“I wasn’t talking about Amp.” I risked a peek. Oscar had the thin man shoved against the wall, his large hand constricting his oesophagus. “I’m not waiting for Maximus. We expect a thorough update before our meeting with Vice in two weeks. Ensure you don’t fuck up again.”

Oscar released him, his victim lurching from the ground to make his escape. Then Oscar turned for the exit—the one right beside me.

Inhaling a deep breath, I blocked the door.

His step faltered, sparing half a glance. “Move. I’ve no interest in your services.”

I snickered. “Do you ever, Uncle?”

Oscar looked at me then, truly looked at me. His gaze climbed my body—not in a lustful way, more cataloguing every inch to make sense of my presence. He flinched, catching the tattoo on my chest, his eyes finally clashing with my amber orbs, the exact shade of my father’s.

The air charged between us before he took a hesitant step forward, his features lined with affection. “Micah? Kin—”

“Don’t say my name. Don’t speak our name.” I stepped back.

His expression stilted at my retreat, clocking my aggressive stance.

I didn’t realise that deep fucking down, I was hoping I was wrong. That when we came in contact, he would assuage my doubts with some fantastical story about why he was alive, why he hadn’t searched for us.

Nevertheless, I was not built for misplaced sentimentality. My Variant had never steered me wrong—not once in my life. Now flaring in my chest as bright as a strobe light, the atmosphere thickened in wild hostility. With weighed judgement, my heavy heart strained in regret.

Oscar cackled, his concerned mask shattering. “You always were the smartest of your sisters. Where are they?”

My face remained impassive. “You should know, since you killed them.”

He clucked. “Now, young Micah. I’m not solely responsible.”

“Then tell me who is and I’ll deal with them, too.”

“Too?” His stance grew predatory. “So you’re going to deal with me, are you?” He made a show, perusing my lack of attire. “In what way, may I ask? Well, you being a whore and all.”

I am really getting sick of that fucking word.

Oscar was a phenomenal fighter. He was one of our trainers from an early age. However, I wasn’t a little girl anymore. Nil fear or apprehension registered, just the desperate need to see the lifeforce drain from his one remaining eye.

I rocked on the balls of my feet, muscles tightening from prolonged tension. I didn’t have a weapon, not even a measly knife to stick into his flesh, but I’d take my chances.

We began to circle each other, the single round table the lone barrier between us. I scoped his movements as he assessed mine in return, actions purposeful and transient.

“Tell me, Uncle. Do you still have that golden crown tattooed over your chest? Do you mourn the loss of your family?”

“I have a new family.”

I clucked. “Cold-hearted as ever.”

Oscar halted across from me. “It’s what I taught you, no?”

“Indeed.”

I launched over the table, careening off the edge and smacking his hard, bulky form off-balance. When he rebounded off the wall, my foot was waiting, a swift kick pounding into his rib cage.

Oscar released a breathless laugh and I retreated. In the onslaught, his shirt had ripped down the middle, my question answered without a word from him.

In the centre of his chest lay a white scar and overtop was the stark black outline of a ram’s skull, horns and all, replacing his allegiance to the Sovereign.

I blinked, attention zoned in on the image. “I may have sold my soul for vengeance, and I guess that does make me a whore in some respects. But I have never met a cheaper whore than you, Uncle.”

Oscar blanched, my statement affecting him more than I’d expected. I spoke with honesty.

I reinforced my fighting stance, instincts heightened, assessing his upcoming assault. “Who do you work for?”

He mirrored my position. “You will get nothing out of me, not even if you torture me within an inch of my life. I will answer none of your questions,” he smirked, cocking his head in a predatory fashion. “Cute that you think you'd be able to, though.”

“What about this upcoming meeting with Vice? Will someone talk there?”

Recognition sparked in his gaze, the realisation that I’d overheard his previous statement. Oscar’s features transitioned, unhinged and bestial, finishing with a hiss. “She may not know you survived, but she will destroy you in the end.”

“Let her try,” I replied. He realised his fuck up too late, his emotions overriding his reason, unintentionally handing over valuable intel.

I sneered at his expense and he attacked.

Oscar landed shots over my open flesh, the impact ricocheting into my bones. I delivered the same in kind, his surprised grunts providing the sustenance I craved. We presented a coordinated dance, my Uncle and I, postures never wavering. I’d go on forever if I had to.

Oscar panted. “Now that I think on it, this is a special month, right?” His statement rocked me, my guard crashing for the split second it took my brain to process his words. It was enough. He slammed my skull against the tabletop, the impact vibrating with a monstrous crack. My legs buckled as I slumped to the ground, head buzzing and mind in disarray as I tried to recollect my composure.

Although my vision was blurred, I could make out his silhouette as he circled my collapsed form, his outward hatred flowing like an inescapable shadow.

“A shame Chase didn’t quite reach her seventeenth birthday,” Oscar snickered unkindly. “A day for celebration, turned into a day of disaster. You lost your father, your sisters.”

Each one of his taunting words tore at my insides, and my body trembled from their harsh delivery.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I managed to roar, the brutal cadence painfully ripping into my fractured mind.

“You still haven’t conquered your emotions, young Micah, haven’t conquered your Variant. Your father would be disappointed. You’ll say hello to him for me, won’t you?”

My jaw flexed and adrenaline spiked my bloodstream. “I’ll let you do the honours. I’ll send you to him myself.” I lunged with all my last remaining strength, toppling his bulk to the ground. My knees dug heavily into his chest as my hands raised to bracket his head, repeatedly smashing his skull into the stone floor.

He fought with intensity, fists pummelling into my sides, nails parting my flesh—and still I did not relent.

A desperate shriek ripped from my lungs, one primal need clawing from my brain.

Destroy. Destroy. Destroy.

“Who is she? Who do you work for?” I repeated, undeniably lost.

I didn’t know what I was doing, didn’t know it was a possibility as I poured my Variant into him. All my hate. All my despair. All my hopelessness.

I gave it all over to saturate his very core, his entire fucking being.