Chapter 389

• “Joaquin Latham, you’re still the same stubborn, arrogant bastard. You’re used to being selfish—when you have something, you don’t cherish it; when you lose it, you drown in regret. To put it bluntly, a dog can’t stop eating crap. Do you really love Zayla Steele? No. You’re just upset that the woman who died couldn’t keep satisfying your sick desires.”
• The cigarette pinched between his fingers had burned down to the filter. The heat made his fingertips quake, but Lucian didn’t let go. That kind of pain—he’d pressed it into Zayla’s skin five or six times, grinding ash into torn flesh until it blackened.
• Lucian never cared about an old plaything. He only cared about how to make Joaquin suffer. Killing isn’t the point—destroying the heart is. And Zayla’s death didn’t let him down.