TWENTY

I would stab Conrad straight in the heart.

Deimos’ words played on loop in the back of my mind. Earn Conrad’s trust, give Deimos information on Conrad, stab Conrad.

After everything I had come to learn that Conrad did to me, the whole idea should have appealed to me. I searched inside myself for the elation from the image of holding a knife right above Conrad’s chest, the look of shock on his face followed by realization.

Nothing.

I was not a murderer.

Even when Frazier died by my hands, I still found it hard to believe. Besides, I was out of it when it happened. It may have been my last resort and it was out of self-defense.

What excuse could I come up with if I succeeded in killing Conrad? It would be more of an act of revenge more than it was an act of self-defense.

Was revenge worth killing a person over?

For his revenge, he exiled me. He didn’t hold a knife to my throat for killing his Beta. Then again, he called for a fight to the death match so exiling me for winning a