But what did it matter, really?

After what the Resistance had repeatedly done to him, he had no intention of ever touching or being touched by another human being again. He was sick of it.

Then again, he was sick. Period.

And now that his physical therapy was done and he could use his body again, he had an appointment to keep. One that was a long time past due.

This is going to hurt you a lot more than it’s going to hurt me.

It wouldn’t bother him at all. Not even a little.

No, it wouldn’t give him peace, but he was going to clean the gene pool—one dreg at a time. And this way, he knew they’d never victimize another helpless being.

It was part vengeance. Part housekeeping.

But mostly it was justice. If they would do it to him, they would do it to anyone.

Darling picked the mask up that he’d made for himself, and covered his face with it. Shaped from solid gold, it held a blank expression—justice took neither pleasure nor pain from punishment. It just was. Frigid, unfeeling, and swift.

The only part of him the mask didn’t conceal was his scarred mouth and his eyes. Eyes that were now as cold as the rest of him.

I am retribution.

For the first time in well over a year, he headed home to his father’s Winter Palace. The palace where Darling had been born.

The one where his father had died.

It took him several hours to get there. Time enough for his temper to ignite to an even higher level. His link buzzed almost constantly as Maris, Syn, Nyk, Nero, Caillen, Hauk, and the others tried to reach him.

He ignored them all.

They weren’t going to stop him. This wasn’t the time for reason or rationale.

It was time for ruthless action. A time to bathe in blood.

Payback’s a bitch…

And today her name was his.

As soon as he was docked at the palace, Darling made his way inside and walked straight to his uncle’s study.

Unfortunately, the bastard wasn’t there.

Figures. With his luck, his uncle might have known he was coming for him and had gone into hiding.

But just in case, Darling methodically searched the rooms.

He was about to give up when he finally found Arturo in the back courtyard where he was pawing some poor servant he’d trapped there. No older than fifteen, the girl was whimpering and crying, begging him not to dishonor her.

Darling saw red as old memories tore through him, and the beast inside him roared to life at the prospect of being set loose.

He could already smell the blood.

“Let her go.”

His uncle turned, then frowned at the mask on his face. “Darling? Is that you?”

Without responding, Darling pulled the girl off Arturo’s lap. “Run.”

She didn’t hesitate to obey.

Indignant, Arturo came to his feet with a feral snarl.

When he went to hit Darling, Darling dodged and then punched him with seventeen years of repressed fury. He felt his uncle’s cheekbone shatter underneath his fist. The blow twisted Arturo around and sent him straight to the ground.