BOUND BY HATRED | TOM KAULITZ

CHAPTER FOUR | TOM KAULITZ |

TOM KAULITZ

I don't know what I was thinking, jumping in after that watch.

The moment I hit the water-still fucking freezing, barely warmed up at all by the early summer weather—the cold is like a slap to the
face, waking me up.

I'm so desperate that I keep diving down, eyes open, searching for a glint of gold in the black water.

Of course, there's nothing to see, nothing at all. The water under the pier is choppy, full of sand and pollutants. Even at midday the sun would hardly penetrate. At night, it might as well be motor oil.

My black oversized jumper constricts my arms and legs, my shoes weighing me down all the more. If I wasn't a strong swimmer, I might be in serious trouble.

The waves are trying to smash me against the pilings, the pillars sharp with muscles and barnacles.

I have to swim away from the pier before I can stroke back to shore. All of that takes enough time that Bill is pretty much freaking out by the time I drag myself up on the sand—filthy, soaking, and angrier than I've ever been in my life.

That fucking BITCH!

I never knew much about the youngest Käutner. Her father keeps her out of the spotlight, and she's not involved in the family business as far as I know.

At first glance, when we approached her and her brother on the pier, I almost felt guilty. She looked young, a bit older than Nessa. And she's beautiful, which shouldn't have had any impact on my resolve, but it did.

She's got light-brown skin, blonde hair, and narrow blue eyes, slightly tilted up at the outer corners. She stiffened up as soon as we approached, noticing us even before Hunter did.

I felt a twinge of guilt threatening them, seeing how Hunter tried to step in front of her to protect her. That's what I would do for my sisters, in the same position.

But seeing the girl's height and blonde hair, I remembered my glimpse of the person fleeing the library, and I began to suspect that it was her that set.

Then she stepped forward and started yelling at me, with the temperament and vocabulary of a sea-hardened sailor, and I was certain she was the one who broke into our house.

Then, instead of handing over the watch, she flung it over the railing like a fucking psychopath. And I realized that pretty face disguised the soul of a demon. That girl is pure evil, the worst of the whole family.

She deserves whatever she gets.

The question is, what am I going to do about it?

Right now, I want to murder every last one of them.

But I can't afford that kind of bloodbath right before the election.

So, I guess I'll just have to do the next best thing—bankrupt the bastards.

They tried to burn my house down—I'm going to burn down the tower they're building over on Oak Street.

That will be the appetizer. The main meal will be wiping out every restaurant and nightclub under their control as well.

Fantasies of the hellfire I'm going to reign down on their heads is the only thing keeping me warm while I stomp down the street in my soggy black oversized jumper and sopping baggy jeans.