“Shhhh, we’ll be leaving as soon as we finish here,” Sebastian assures her in an offhanded way. She flinches before a broken sob tears its way out of her. “Just keep ahold of her while I help our guests out.”
I turn my attention to Jack. He’s the reason I’m here after all. “Hello, Jack,” I murmur, coming to a stop in front of him. “It’s been too long. How’s the family?”
His eyes are bloodshot, making their already icy color stand out in sharp contrast as he glares at me with pure, seething hatred. Good. Let him hate me. Let him reflect on the pain he’s endured so far. I crouch slowly, my gaze locked with his. “There’s something I want you to remember for the rest of your increasingly short life: everything that’s happened to you so far is your doing. You chose to turn this into a war. You hijacked my shipments and attacked my business. You partnered up with Amalia. You kidnapped Caterina and my daughter. You set all of this into motion. There is no one to blame but yourself for what is about to happen.”
I break eye contact only long enough to look over my shoulder at the weeping girl who will soon become a Costello. “You lost your only son as a result, and you were desperate enough to hand your daughter over to a man who double–crossed you. Look at all you’ve lost. All you threw away.”
His face is beet red, and the hatred radiating from his eyes intensities as I stand. “Get him in a chair. I want him sitting up for this.”
“Dad… no…” The girl tries in vain to fight against her captors, straining and tugging against their grasps.
“Take her out to the car,” Sebastian orders his brother. “I’ll be out when it’s over. No one touches the girl, or I’ll cut off their hands.” The girl’s cries echo through the warehouse as the men dag her out, fading until they go silent when a car door slams outside.
Roger pulls up a wooden chair for Sebastian’s remaining men to haul Jack off the floor and drop him onto it. I circle him slowly, savoring the rapid rise and fall of his shoulders. “How do you feel ght now, Jack?” I ponder aloud. “Maybe you feel the way Caterina did when you held her captive. Then again, no. You don’t have a life growing inside you that you’re hoping to protect.”
I blurt out a laugh on coming to a stop in front of him. “You couldn’t even protect the kids you already had. But then it was always about you, right?”
His head snaps to the side when I backhand him. “Every day, I’ve imagined what I would do to you once I had you in this position. I’ve had a lot of time to come up with elaborate scenarios involving jumper cables and waterboarding and… well, it got graphic. In the absence of those props, we’ll have to settle for a good, old–fashioned beating.”
I backhand him again, then tighten my hand into a fist, crashing against his cheekbone. His eyes. His nose. Blood pours, from it by the time I’m finished, coating his mouth and chin before dripping onto a shirt that used to be white.
“He’s suffocating,” Roger observes in a flat voice. He might as well be commenting on the weather. “He’ll need to lose the gag unless you want to end this soon.”
No fucking way. I’m just getting started.I yank the gag free, and he gasps, sucking in as much air as he can. “You… made your point… fucker.”
“Not even close.” I bend to free the knife sheathed at my ankle, then hold it up for him to see. “We’re just getting started.”
His chin quivers while he stares at the blade. Let him pretend he’s not out of his mind with terror. “How does it feel, knowing your life is almost over?” I wonder aloud. “The way Donovan knew once that first bullet pierced his chest that it had to be the end. He died on his back, flopping around and gasping for air withobody around to comfort him in those final moments. Caterina told me all about it. I wish I could’ve seen it for myself.”
“You made your point.” He spits out blood before lifting his split in a grotesque snarl. “Kill me. Get it over with.”
“Oh I plan to.” I grin.
He doesn’t scream, not at first, when the blade slices through hisants and sinks inside something soft between his legs. It takes a moment for his brain to catch up to the sensation, but once it does, a shriek unlike anything I’ve ever heard fills the
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warehouse, the echoes overlapping until I’m surrounded by the sweet symphony of Jack Moroni’s agony. The dark–red spot that quickly spreads across his crotch and down his thighs heightens my pleasure until I can’t help but sink the knife in again. When I back away, his blood drips from the chair and begins to pool beneath it.
His voice is nothing more than a weak croak once his screams die off. “Just… end it…” he sobs, his head hanging, the sweat that drips from his hair mixing with his blood.
I take a handful of that hair in my hand and yank his head back until we’re eye to eye. “Oh no,” I whisper, beaming down at his anguished face before dragging the bloody blade along his cheek. You’re going to suffer until you bleed out. This is nowhere near over.”
For Caterina. For Tatiana. For my baby.
“I’m going to teach you the meaning of pain and regret before you die,” I promise, savoring his agonized sob before making my next slice.
I won’t stop until he’s unrecognizable, until he’s dead at my feet.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
