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Cristina pushes to her feet. “I’m not doing this.”
“You are,” my uncle and I say in unison.
She shakes her head. “I’m not. No, no. I’m not going to participate in a ritual murder.” She makes the sign of the cross over her chest, and I wince, having just remembered that Cristina is of strong faith.
“If God decides on all things, then he will also guide your hand. Do you not agree?” I ask.
“Don’t speak of what you don’t know.”
“I’m a God-fearing man. It will be as it should be. You will complete the ritual. The Head rests.”
“The Body follows,” Gio says.
“Cristina,” I say in a tone I’m certain she’ll obey. “Pick a vial.” Preferably before my uncle picks up his gun and tries to put a bullet in my heart.
Terrified, Cristina recites prayers as she reaches for a vial with trembling hands. She grabs the middle one and offers it to my uncle.
“Are you sure?” he asks her.
She wipes her tears. “I don’t want this. I never asked for this. It’s you who pulled in my dad when you shouldn’t have, and now Severio’s here making us all suffer.”
My uncle stares at her.
“Take it from my hand!” she shouts hysterically.
Poor thing. If this bothers her, she wouldn’t have survived marriage to my uncle. If she gets upset over ending him, or me, she would have lasted only a year or two before trying to leave and finding out she can’t. He would have betrayed me later on. Maybe even used her to get to me somehow. It was only a matter of time. While I tried to forget this island exists, he grew stronger, and here we are.
Flirting with death excites me.
Under the table, I part my legs and adjust my hardness.
My uncle snatches the vial, pops open the cap, and throws the liquid into his mouth. Across the table, our eyes lock, and my heart starts beating louder as I watch him continue to breathe. He survived.
“Congratulations,” I say. “You just may inherit the Order after all.”
“The Order is mine by right. You stole it from me.”
“You could’ve invoked this ritual back then, but you were a coward. You're still a coward, going behind my back. You disgust me.”
My uncle sneers. “And you will die. By the hand of the virgin you defiled.”
A virgin?
I squeeze my dick harder, then extend my hand, palm up. “Pick the vial of water, would you, little one? I have so much to live for.”
“You really are insane,” she says.
“And relatively impatient. Hurry up.”
“Do either of you know which vial holds the poison?” she asks, looking from me to him.
“No,” my uncle and I answer together.
Cristina swallows. “This is making me want to throw up.”
“You’ll pick the water,” I say.
“How do you know?” she asks.
