I’d read that in real life—as opposed to the movies—it sounded like a pop, but this was no pop. It was an explosion, an ear piercing, deafening explosion. Louder than anything I’d ever heard before. More horrible than anything I’d seen.

I’d never forget that day. I’d never forget what they did to him. And it was the one thing that kept me together now. The thing that had me gathering the pieces of myself. Because if I gave in now, then Mateo’s death was for nothing. Victor thought he’d won. That Mateo and I were finished. But he was wrong. I had vowed vengeance for what he’d done. I had promised it silently to Mateo, to myself. And I needed to pull myself together, to collect my strength, because I knew now that I had a chance. I knew it.

I had fully expected Death to rape me. I thought…I thought what else could he want? I had taunted him—hell, maybe I wanted him to kill me, to end it all, to make the decision and take the responsibility of vengeance away from me. But that was weak. I knew that now. Hell, I’d known it then. And he, this man I called Death, he surprised me. He unwittingly gave me hope.

I was different to him. He wanted me. I could see it in his face, his eyes. He’d made a mistake, taking off that mask. He should never have done that. He didn’t know me. He didn’t know I would stop at nothing to avenge my brother.

Although he was right about one thing. There was one area where we were alike. We both hated. We’d both been hurt—no, we’d been battered. But neither he nor I had broken, and I wouldn’t break now. He wanted to break me. It was his job. I had a suspicion, though, that that wasn’t wholly true. His own conflicting emotions weakened him. But it would be good to remember that those exact things made him dangerous. They made him volatile and unpredictable. I needed to control him. I didn’t need to search for a how. I knew how. I just had to come to terms with the fact that the idea of it didn’t repel me like it should. The thought of his hands on me, his mouth on me, his cock inside me, it didn’t turn my stomach. The opposite, actually. And that was what made me sick. That made me question who I was. How I could feel these things, feel this way. How I could not abhor this man.