“You tried to kill my wife.” I grabbed the whiskey bottle and smacked it against the table, shattering the bottom. “She’s my life. My everything.” I raised the jagged weapon of glass in my fist and pressed it against her throat. “And you tried to take her from me.”

“I’m sorry.” She sobbed, blinking through the blood that gushed from her forehead. “Please. Not like this.”

“You sealed your fate when you went after my world.” My fingers tightened in her hair, my breaths surging in spurts.

I saw only death. Every shade of red. Rivers of it smothered my awareness and soaked my chest.

Amid the fugue of carnage and madness, I registered the buzzing vibration in my pocket. My phone.

My breath caught, and my mind cleared, my thoughts spinning toward Tinsley.

The door opened, and with it came the sound of angelic Christmas music.

I blinked, turning my gaze toward the entrance as Tinsley strode in.

Bodyguards spilled in around her, their expressions creased with worry. I spotted Galen, his lips pinching as he quickly scanned the room. I could only imagine the hell she put them through to come here against my orders.

“Tinsley.” My jaw locked. “I’m busy.”

“I see that.”

The full-volume skirt of her red ball gown swept around her feet, flowing out in layers of chiffon, organza, and glitter tulle. With her elaborate updo and glittery diamonds, she looked every bit the royal princess.

She didn’t belong here. Not in this room of violence and death.

But as she floated closer, she didn’t flinch at the broken bottle I held to Amanda’s throat. She didn’t gasp at the blood on my hands. She didn’t slow her approach at the sight of my heartless eyes.

She’d grown up in this world, raised among criminals in designer clothing. She knew the score.

She knew what I’d come here to do.

The heavy tempo of my pulse flooded my veins as she crouched before the woman who tried to kill her.

“Amanda Herschel.” Her eyes glistened, and her pouty red lips parted with compassion. “I forgive you.”

Tremors erupted in Amanda’s shoulders and spread through her body, brutally shaking her as she burst into tears.

Tinsley rose, pushed back her regal shoulders, and met me stare for stare.

This isn’t you. You’re not a murderer.

She broadcasted the words without speaking them. There was no censure in her gaze. No abhorrence.

Only love.

“When you’re finished here…” She raised her chin. “Meet me under the mistletoe.”

With that, she left, taking the guards with her.

The others emerged from their hiding spots in the room, awaiting my orders.

I held Amanda’s hair in a punishing grip with the broken bottle still angled against her throat. Her sobbing was inconsolable as she hugged her chest and trembled.