This isn't how our story ends. No. This murder we've just committed? This is how our story truly begins . . . I told myself I was going to save her. I didn't realize what a lie that was. This neurosis has sunk in too deep. All it took was one glimpse of another man inside her for the beast that murdered Barnard to finish consuming me. I've turned her into killer. Just like me. With every corroded, toxicity-infested sin laid bare between us, all that's left is revenge. And the chasm of diabolical need that tethers us. A need to consume each other. A need to make our enemies pay. They stole seven years from us. Every ounce of sanity we had left. Now, we're going to steal everything from them. Most of all, we won't stop until every single one of them is dead. I told myself I was going to save Lexi . . . in reality, I've finished ruining her. And she would have it no other way.