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I remain seated, tapping the blade of the knife on the armrest.Tap. Tap. Tap. I’m making sure I commit every little detail of the scene before me to memory. I don’t want to forget a single second of it.
He doesn’t look at me. He keeps his head hanging down, snot dripping from his nose.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Eventually, he looks up. “You gonna annoy me to death with that tapping, birdie?”
“I hope not,” I say, leaning my head to the side as I watch him. “I’m just thinking, there’s something wrong with this picture, but I just can’t put my finger on it.”
“You’re not on your knees sucking my dick, that’s what’s wrong with this picture.”
Nicoli growls beside me, about to launch forward when I shoot to my feet, stopping him. Rage is rippling from every inch of his body; his mouth pulls in a snarl as he glares at Nunzio, ready to tear his heart out. I can’t imagine the kind of hell his emotions are wreaking inside him as he tries to control his anger. It has to be the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, and he’s doing it for me.
“It’s okay, Nicoli,” I say, giving him a reassuring look. I know this is hard for him not to be able to kill Nunzio himself. Nicoli is a man of pride, of violence, a man who bathes in authority just like his twin. It’s in his blood to demand penitence from those who have wronged him, and even though I’m the victim of Nunzio’s sickness, Nicoli was wronged, too. This world is about power, and everything is bent here in a way that constraint is seen as weakness. But I know better. To me, my husband’s control is the epitome of power, love, and our unbreakable bond.
My heels click across the concrete floor, the sound ricocheting through the empty, abandoned building. Nunzio smells like sweat and humiliation, the stench of shame reeking from his pores. “I think I know what’s wrong with this picture.” I untie the rope around his leg, letting it fall to the floor, fresh blood leaking from the wound. And without taking my eyes off his, I place the blade between my teeth and start to unbutton his pants.
“You gonna play with my dick before you send me to hell, birdie?”
I yank his pants down, remove the knife from my mouth, and step back.
“You’re a feisty one,” I start, allowing the memory to seep through. “And I need your cooperation, which means I need to weaken your confidence, hence why you’re naked.”
It takes him a moment to realize I just quoted him, word for fucking word. A grin starts creeping up on his ugly face, and he lets out a laugh before looking at Nicoli. “You see, Del Rossa? I told you I gave her a fuckton of memories. She remembers it like it was yesterday.”
Nicoli’s jaw clenches. His nostrils flare. And the vein in his neck bulges with rage.
“Maybe if you fuck her better, she’ll forget about how good I made her feel.”
I slice the knife across his chest in one swift, precise motion, blood instantly spilling tears of red down his stomach. He doesn’t scream, which is disappointing, but his face contorts in pain as he hisses, and my soul eats it up like it’s mana from Heaven.
With another single violent swish, the knife draws its path across his exposed skin—this time slicing into muscle lower on his stomach. I angle the blade so that I don’t dig too deep, knowing if I do, he might bleed out before I’m done.
There are blood splatters on my hand—only a few specks, but Lord help me, the sight soothes something in me, like it’s slowly healing an open sore that’s been infected for months. Revenge courses through my veins like liquid fire, and I can’t suppress the sadistic smile that creeps across my lips.
My gaze rakes across the fresh cuts on his stomach and chest, blood oozing from them, dripping on his ugly, limp dick as he hangs naked. Ugly. Revolting.
“Is that the worst you can do, birdie?” He challenges me, but his breaths are labored, sweat beading across his skin. Every inch of him is marred with suffering, and it’s the most beautiful sight.
I let the flat side of the blade dance across his battered skin two more times, watching him flinch at its touch. “You thought breaking me would make me weak. You were wrong.”
“You sure look like a broken doll to me,” he hisses, his eyes narrowing as he tries to maintain control over the pain. “It’s only the bold and the broken who crave blood. You, birdie, are not bold.”
“I’m not the one about to die…am I?”
“That says nothing,” he hisses. “You’re gonna kill me, but I’ll still haunt your dreams. My face will still be what you see when your husband fucks you, and you’re going to think of him, wishing it was my bloodstained cock fucking your ass.”
Nicoli roars behind me—guttural and brutal, a violent tenor of rage rippling from his throat. He launches forward, a knife in hand, and jabs the blade into Nunzio’s thigh, hacking it up…and up…Nunzio’s screams ringing through the warehouse, mingling with the thrumming of my own heartbeat in my ears. Nicoli tears the knife from his thigh only to stab it back into the already gaping flesh, blood gushing from the wound.
It’s everywhere. On Nicoli’s hands, the floor, my dress. And as I witness the anger on my husband’s face, I realize it’s unfair of me to expect him not to get his pound of flesh simply because I want it all for myself. I’ve been obsessed with getting my revenge. I lost sight of Nicoli’s hunger for it, too. So I step back, watching as Nicoli unleashes his worst.
Nunzio’s screams reach a fever pitch, and I glance at Maximo, recognizing the ruthless desire for blood on his face. Our eyes lock, and I nod, giving him the permission he needs from me. He charges toward Nicoli, who is still savagely shredding Nunzio’s flesh, and my brother roars as his blade penetrates Nunzio’s other thigh, slicing it open.
Alexius, Caelian, and Isaia all circle around our enemy, every one of them cutting and stabbing him, his monster screams filling the open space around us. Like avenging angels, the Dark Sovereign takes back the control this man has stolen from all of us. This isn’t just my battle, my war. It’s theirs, too. It’s ours. We’ve all been fighting it. And now we’re all claiming victory over it.
I have no idea how Nunzio is surviving this gruesome onslaught, but I’m thankful he does. His agonized screams penetrate my soul, and that open sore inside me continues to heal. It’s a beautiful relief. An exquisite peace that fills me to the brim. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
Blood pools around Nunzio’s feet, its sickly sweet aroma seeping into the air.
