Klarissa’s Atonement (Retribution #3)

Prologue

“Klarissa, you have to wake up.”

Klarissa moaned. Was that her mother?

“Klarissa! Wake up! Wake up baby, and run!”

Klarissa’s head throbbed like a drumbeat of pain, each pulse behind her eyes sharp enough to make her nauseated.

The scent of antiseptic clogged her nose, mixing with the sterile chill of recycled air.

When she tried to lift her hand to shield her face from the harsh fluorescent light above, leather straps cut into her wrists.

Another set at her ankles. Panic roared through her chest. She twisted against the restraints, ribs screaming in protest, and the heart monitor at her side spiked frantically in response.

“Mom?” Her voice cracked, thin and desperate.

The hydraulic hiss of a door opening made her freeze. A tall man strode in, his presence filling the room like smoke. His hair was a dignified salt-and-pepper, his suit dark and tailored, the cut screaming wealth. But it was his eyes—hard, cold, and calculating—that froze her where she lay.

He stared at her for a long, uncomfortable moment, his gaze unblinking, making her skin crawl. Klarissa’s voice wavered. “Who ... who are you?”

The man’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Do you not recognize your own father?” His accent was thick Italian, his tone a blend of arrogance and disdain.

Klarissa’s stomach plummeted. Father. The word rang hollow. The man she had only ever known through her mother’s warnings, a looming shadow that haunted bedtime stories and whispered fears—Vincent Caruso.

She rasped, “Where is she? Where’s my mom?”

Caruso’s sneer carved lines into his face. “Your mother is alive ... for now. Whether she stays that way depends entirely on you.”

Her memory cracked open like a broken dam—her mother’s laughter while driving her to dinner to celebrate her recent graduation, the radio blaring, headlights blinding, then the spin of metal, the taste of blood, and nothingness. Until now.

When Klarissa’s defiance snapped, she shouted, “Tell me where she is! What have you done to her?”

Caruso’s hand lashed out, the sting of the slap exploding across her cheek. She gasped in shock, her head snapping to the side, pain and nausea slamming through her in equal quantities. He leaned closely, the smell of expensive cologne suffocating.

“You will not raise your voice to me,” he growled.

Klarissa glared back, tears welling but her jaw tight. It took everything she had to not bite back. She was injured, she had no idea where her mom was, she would have to play this asshole’s game.

His lips peeled back in a cold smile. “Respect me, or you and your mother both die. You understand me? As far as you are concerned, I am God.”

Her breath hitched, and a sob broke loose despite her effort to choke it down. He had her mother. “Please ... just don’t hurt her.”

Her agreement was little more than a whispered sob.

She lay still, trembling, until she thought she heard something faint—her mother’s voice, calling her name, urging her to wake.

The sound pierced through her panic, reminding her that she wasn’t completely alone.

That was what gave her the strength to focus her gaze back on the man looming over her.

Caruso leaned closer, his expression softening into something more dangerous than rage. Calculation.

“You’re a genius, Klarissa. That mind, that IQ—that comes from me. And I will not let it go to waste.”

She blinked in confusion, her lips parting. “What are you talking about?”

“You know about your mother’s illness,” he explained, almost conversationally.

“I know you have been searching for the cure. But this disease that has been rotting her from the inside, exacerbated by the animal she carries within her. She is a shifter who cannot shift, and that latent beast is slowly killing her.” He crouched lower, voice silk wrapped around steel.

“If you can separate the animal from the woman, strip it from her DNA, then the human part of her might live.”

Her chest tightened, tears springing to her eyes. “You want me to experiment on her?”

“I want you to study, to learn, to create. You will research everything you need to in order to heal her, but every piece of that research will also be shared with me. Do you understand? This is bigger than one woman’s survival. It is about control, about power.”

Klarissa’s mind reeled. Her mother’s life hung in the balance, and the key to saving her lay in tearing apart the very thing that made them who they were. She would endure, not for him—but for her mother.

****

Six Years Ago

The tiny apartment Caruso had secured for them reeked of bleach and despair. The beeping of monitors filled the dark like a countdown. Klarissa sat hunched at the desk, notes scattered, her eyes raw from sleepless nights. Her mother lay in the bed only feet away, skin pale, breath rattling.

“Klarissa...” Her mother’s whisper broke the silence. “Don’t let him—take you too.”

Klarissa squeezed her hand, fighting tears. “I won’t, Mama. I swear I’ll fix this. Just hold on for me.”

The door opened. Caruso entered, his suit immaculate, his disdain sharper than any blade. “Still scribbling? Still failing? For all your genius, your mother gasps like a dying dog.”

“Don’t you dare talk about her like that!” Klarissa snapped, rising, fury shaking her voice.

Caruso prowled closer, eyes cold. “You forget who you answer to. Results, Klarissa. I don’t care about excuses. You’re mine, and so is your work.”

Her mother stirred, her voice a rasp. “She’s not yours. She’ll never be yours.”

Caruso’s lip curled. He drew a pistol with deliberate calm and leveled it at the bed.

Klarissa’s scream tore through the room. “No! Please, don’t! I’m close, I can save her!” She rushed to shield her mother, but he shoved her aside like a ragdoll.

“Enough weakness.”

The shot thundered, deafening. Red blossomed across the sheets. The monitor shrieked one long note and then went silent. Klarissa fell across her mother, horror clawing her chest as her mother’s eyes glassed over.

“No! Mama, no! Please come back!” She shook the lifeless body, sobbing until her throat was raw.

Caruso seized her by the hair, yanking her head back until she whimpered.

His voice was venom against her ear. “You will finish what you started. Perfect your virus. Deliver me a weapon. Or I will line up innocents in front of you and spill their blood one by one. You will know every death belongs to you.”

Klarissa collapsed, broken beyond measure. She had meant to heal. Instead, she had birthed death.

And now Caruso had removed the one anchor she had left. Her mother was gone, the only tether keeping her obedient severed. In the ashes of her grief, resolve ignited. She would run. She would escape. And when she did, she would find a way to stop—no, kill—her father.

****

Five Years Ago

“Kamon, she’s gone.”

Their father’s voice cracked with grief, heavy with age and heartbreak. “Your sister Boonsri is dead.”

The words hit harder than any blow. Kamon’s knees gave out, and he landed on a bench with a force that rattled through his bones. Across the cafeteria, Rune felt it instantly, his twin bond thrumming with Kamon’s devastation. Rune was already at his side, eyes wide and stricken.

“What happened?” Kamon’s voice shook. “How?”

“She was taken from school late last night,” their father said, choking on the words.

“Before we could even act, one of her classmates found her body. She was thrown into a ditch like garbage. Some kind of chemical that was injected into her, they think. My baby ... killed and discarded like rubbish.” His voice broke entirely.

Kamon bent forward, his fists clenching until his nails cut into his palms. Rune dropped to his knees in front of him, their foreheads pressed together as if sharing strength. The ache in Rune’s gaze mirrored his own.

“No,” Rune whispered fiercely. “Not Boonsri. She was just a kid. Who would dare—”

“Someone who will wish they had never been born,” Kamon growled, his tiger surfacing in the rasp of his tone.

Their father’s voice hardened, fury burning through the grief. “You boys will find who did this. Bring them to me. We will bleed them.”

“Father,” Kamon said hoarsely, lifting his gaze. “I vow to you, with every drop of blood in my body, Rune and I will find them.”

Rune clasped his brother’s hand tightly, eyes burning. “And when we do, they will beg for mercy and find none.”

Their father’s silence was thick with anguish, but pride flickered through the bond. “My sons. Make them pay.”

The twins rose together, shoulders squared, vengeance already shaping their path. They were trackers—Elite Shifter Enforcers, who were tasked with hunting monsters. And whoever had stolen Boonsri’s light was already marked. They would find them. They would tear them apart.

Justice and vengeance, twin threads binding them as tightly as blood.