LUKE’S POV

Two weeks had passed.

Two fucking weeks.

They say time dulls the pain.

But mine had sharpened.

I had so much anger in me and I didn’t know what to do with it. Rage was no longer a wildfire, it was a blade, cold and surgical. And I was the hand that wielded it.

The man screamed again, hoarse and broken, blood painting his teeth.

I didn’t flinch. Pulling back the knife that was logged into his shoulder.

“You’re going to tell me,” I said, voice low and ...