3. Victoria

My breath comesin short gasps, my skin slick with sweat and sin. Around me, the world is a haze of post-orgasmic bliss, but my mind races sharp and clear. Bodies entwine, limbs heavy and possessing. I feel them, each one, their strength, their resolve. We're a tangle of flesh in this dark room where secrets come to die.

"It's time to end him."

Cian's hand brushes my cheek, rough and warm. Eyes, like the stormy sea, meet mine. "Right now?"

I nod, feeling the echo of power in my veins. "Yes. Right now. I won't last another minute knowing he's still out there." I'm anxious. I am filled with dread that is clawing at my insides, trying to rip them to shreds.

Luke's gaze finds mine. "It's risky. We have no real plan."

"Quinn won't see this coming," I say.

Cian nods, a slight movement that stirs the air. "We need to be precise."

"Precision is my middle name," Luke murmurs.

I sit up. "I'll be the bait." It comes out solid, unwavering. I don't flinch at the thought of facing the man who turned my childhood into a nightmare. I want him to pay. I need it.

"Victoria..." Cian begins, but I cut him off with a look.

"No one else can get close enough without raising suspicion. It has to be me." I watch them, gauging their reactions. They know I'm right. My past with Quinn is a twisted path that leads straight to him.

"Okay," Cian finally agrees, his voice low. "But we cover every angle. No risks."

"Of course." Luke's response is immediate.

"Then it's settled," I declare. There's power in making this choice, in using the darkness Quinn left inside me as a weapon against him. I will be the siren that lures him to his end. "Let's end this," I state. My voice doesn't shake. It's a promise of retribution, and as I look at the men who share my bed, my life, I know I have to come clean. I know this is the only way forward. For all of us.

"Asher Quinn is my godfather, my father's best friend. When I was nine years old, he first laid his hands on me?—"

"Tory, you don't need to do this. We get it."

"No, it has to be said. Shut up and let me speak." The room falls dead silent, the kind of quiet that screams louder than any cry or shout. They're all watching me, making sure I don't crumble under the weight of my own words. But I don't. I can't. There's a fire inside, one that's been burning for years, and now, it's roaring.

"When I was twelve," I continue, voice steady as a fucking rock, "he did more than just touch. He stole everything from me. My innocence, my safety, my goddamn sanity."

A growl rumbles deep in Cian's chest, his fists clenched tight enough to turn his knuckles white. Luke's face is stone and unreadable, but his eyes are a raging storm over dark seas. Gianluca looks like he is about to shred the very fabric of the world with his bare hands.

"And now, I'm going to take it all back."

"Blackbriar campus, midday," Luke says, breaking the silence. I'm grateful for the support without the need for promises or sympathies. "There is high foot traffic. We blend in, but we control the environment."

"Good." I nod.

"We won't be far away," Cian reassures me. His hand brushes against mine, a silent promise of protection.

"Let's lock this down. No loose ends," I state. "I want it done as fast as possible. Where do we trap him?"

"His own lecture hall," Gianluca says.

"Okay," I murmur, the thought of being trapped in there with him, sends skitters of unease over my skin. "We do this old-school. No tech. Just me and my blade, ready to end him."

Luke raises an eyebrow, assessing me like one would assess a fortress before a siege. "Old school has its risks, Victoria. No eyes in there but yours."

I meet his gaze, stubborn as hell. "That's how I want it. Raw and fucking brutal. It's personal."

Cian nods, but his eyes are dark with unsaid worry. "We'll be waiting right outside. Any signal, anything at all, and we storm the place."

I sit up straighter, feeling the weight of their stares, the gravity of the plan that's setting into motion. "No one lays a finger on him but me," I say, my voice slicing through the tension like a knife.

Gianluca grunts, his eyes never leaving my face. "You're sure you can handle him alone?"

A laugh escapes me, harsh and without humour. "I'm not that scared little girl anymore. He won't even see me coming until it's too late."

"We'll have your back if you need us," Luke affirms, but I see the shared glance between them.

They're going to interfere, which means I have to be quick—quicker than them, quicker than Asher. I can almost taste the sweet, dark promise of revenge on my tongue. "I guess there's nothing left to do except move out."

I stand, feeling the determination settle into my bones. My fingers itch for the moment when they'll wrap around the hilt of my blade. The room is charged with a silent vow, an unspoken pact sealed in shadows and whispers.

"We leave in half an hour," Cian announces, voice crisp with authority. "Get ready."

The men scatter, moving with a purpose that's second nature in our dangerous world. Luke lingers for a fraction of a second longer, his gaze holding mine with an intensity that could burn holes through steel. There's something unsaid there, a question or a warning, but he doesn't voice it. Instead, he gives a brisk nod and follows the others out of the room.

I'm left alone with the ghosts of memories I'd rather forget, but today, they serve their purpose. They fuel the fire, stoke the flames of vengeance until I'm burning from the inside out.

Turning to my wardrobe, I open the doors slowly. I dress methodically – black jeans, biker boots and a dark top to hide the blood stains. I twist my hair up and secure it tightly; nothing can be left to chance.

The blade feels right in my hand when I pick it up. It's an extension of myself. It's cold and merciless. I'd rather have Bonnie, but there is no place for her there. This has to be swift and meticulous. Bonnie's strengths are mayhem and brutality. Shoving the knife into the holster at my back, this has served me well once already today. It will again.

The clock ticks down, minutes slipping away like grains of sand in an hourglass.

Each tick is a heartbeat closer to reckoning.

I check the blade one more time, running a finger along the edge. It's sharp enough to slice through the lies and pain Asher Quinn has woven around my life. It's almost poetic, isn't it? That I'll be using one of his own gifts to end him. A gift he gave me on my fourteenth birthday, with that sleazy smile of his. He never imagined it would one day be turned against him. Or did he know that? Did he give it to me for some fucked-up game? The cold steel, such a visceral reminder of everything he did to me, is in its own way therapeutic. Every time I use it, I think of driving it into his cold dead heart, and now, I will get that opportunity. He should've stayed away. He should've kept his boxes to himself.

When the time comes, I step out of the room and walk slowly down the stairs to the entrance hall, where they're waiting for me. Their faces are grim masks. We don't need words; we move silently down the driveway and out onto the grey campus grounds. There is no sunlight today, just another dreary winter day, but under my jacket, I'm sweating. This is it. The moment of truth.

The world around us feels distant, like we're in a bubble of intent that cannot be popped by outsiders. Students pass us by, oblivious to the shitshow that's about to break. It's almost laughable how normal everything seems, how life just keeps ticking on when mine's about to explode into chaos.

We reach the lecture hall to find it empty at this hour, except for the echoes of past lessons and whispers of knowledge. I don't wait for last-minute instructions because, to me, it's simple. Lure him close enough so I can drive my knife into his heart. I slip inside alone and perch on one of the back seats, blade tucked safely under my jacket. My heart is rapid fire against my ribs as my nerves get the better of me. This seems too quick. Too easy. Too everything that I never imagined it would be. The consequences of this are going to be, in a word, harsh. But I know in my guts that I will have to tell my dad everything. From beginning to sordid end, he will hear about the years of abuse this slimy fucker tormented me with under the guise of the jovial professor.

The minutes drag on like hours, making me feel sick with anticipation. I just want it over with now.

I look up when I hear the door to the lecture hall open and I fight the urge to throw up as Asher walks in, oblivious to his reaper sitting mere feet away from him.