Chapter 147

But it was her. She’s the one who sent my father to the grave.

Taking a life is never easy, even when death is deserved. Throughout the years, I’ve learned that in order to get the job done, I have to detach any and all emotions from what I’m doing. Force myself to move automatically. Instinctually. With her, it can be no different.

From a hidden sheath on the underside of the coffee table, I pull the six-inch blade. Holding it firmly in my fist, I slowly stalk past the bedroom to the bath. Thick swirls of steam waft from the shower and surround me in the delicate scent of her soap.

I can easily see her through the glass door. She’s facing away from me, scrubbing her arms with the pink poof she purchased at the drugstore the other night. Water drips from her fiery curls and streams over her silken skin. Skin I caressed and licked. Worshiped.

For the first time since my first kill, I hesitate. Then she turns and her bright-blue eyes light up and she smiles. She smiles because she can’t