Page 83 of Broken Princess

“It matters when you’re out of control and leaving bodies at a rate we can’t cover up.” He grabs Max by the hair and wrenches his head up, yanking him around to make sure Max can see me. “You’re such a fucking disappointment. With all the years of practice, when it came down to it, you couldn’t even kill her properly.”

As our eyes meet, my body freezes in terror. The look in his eyes when he realises he failed—that I’m still alive—is not what I was expecting. He’s not angry, he’s not disappointed. He’s fucking happy. His posture relaxes as relief visibly rolls through him, triggering a shiver that wracks my body from head to toe.

It’s then I know if he ever gets his hands on me again, I will be lost to him forever. He doesn’t want to destroy me; he wants to keep me.

The fear is overwhelming, and my eyes glisten as I realise the two fates before me. Death at Salvatore’s hands, or life at Max’s.

I will choose Salvatore. No matter what he does to me, it would be a lifetime quicker than anything Max would do.

He’s been watching his son’s reaction to me, and he sneers before slapping the odd expression of awe off Max’s face. “Her death was the price you were supposed to pay for your incompetence. No whore is worth more than our legacy.”

Max starts struggling against the two men holding him down, roaring incoherently like a man possessed.

“Silence,” Salvatore bellows as his men grapple Max back to his knees, face pushed into the floor, one with a knee between his shoulder blades.

“If it wasn’t for you, none of this would have happened. If you had an ounce of self-control, Mateo would never have made a move against us. You jeopardised our entire fucking operation because you couldn’t keep your hands off of one woman. I could have spared her and simply killed Mateo—but look at you. You’re pathetic. If you need her to control yourself, I question if you deserve the honour of being a De Luca,” Salvatore rants, every word dripping with venom. The disdain for his son’s actions is unmistakable.

Salvatore stands up, shaking off his outburst, righting his tie and brushing his lapels like he’s trying to wipe off his disappointment at his son. He paces towards a wooden box on the mantelpiece beside me and flips the lid. Max struggles and wrenches his head to the side to watch his father’s performance, eyes flaring wide when he sees the gleaming edge of the knife blade while Salvatore turns the dagger over, inspecting it with a cruel smirk.

“Tell me, son, how will it feel knowing that my knife will succeed where yours failed?”

Salvatore chuckles and brings the tip of the blade to my neck, applying enough pressure for it to nick the surface and allow a trickle of blood to run down my collarbone, over the swell of my breast only to be absorbed into the satin binding of the corset. I try to stifle my heavy breathing, limiting the heaving of my chest to avoid the knife going any further. For a moment, I contemplate jerking forward, taking control of my own end, but as I do, I think of the men who risked so much to save me, and all I want is to stay alive long enough to get Nico back to them.

My attention is pulled out of my thoughts by the persistent low growl emanating from Max. I see the moment Max De Luca disappears and the monster I know so well takes control. Salvatore has underestimated his son and will pay the price. He points the knife towards his son in warning and pulls me further in front of him, like a human shield.

Max is free before his guards even realise they’re in trouble. Throwing them off him before a blade I’m intimately familiar with, usually concealed within his belt buckle, makes short work of their carotid arteries, leaving Max free to charge forward at his father.

It’s like Max was playing a part, waiting for his father to show his hand before striking.

“I’m done prostrating myself at your feet, old man. Your legacy is meaningless to me. But mine? Mine will be a beautiful carnage. All who oppose me will be destroyed, starting with you.”

In that instant, I realise any hope of a quick death at Salvatore's hands is gone, as I feel the blade drop away from my neck.

I’m pushed to the floor, my skull smacking the floorboards hard, as my guards jump to defend Salvatore. My vision blurs and all I can make out is a tangled flurry of limbs rolling in front of me, interspersed with grunts and the occasional flash of blades and splashes of crimson.

As I scramble to avoid the jumble of bodies, I try to stand, struggling against the pain lancing through my ankle.

The thuds and crashes die down and I try to make my eyes focus, but as soon as I hear his voice, I know my fate. A hand grips my hair and I’m forced to meet his gaze. As he drags me up, the terror eclipses any pain I feel.

“I’ve missed you, principessa. No one compares to you. You’re my Cinderella. No one wears the glass slipper like you do.”

The bile rises in my throat. No matter how much I will my subconscious into action, I don’t slip away. I stay here in the moment with him, the bloodshed and carnage devastating. There are five bodies in the centre of the room, all dispatched with alarming efficiency. The sheer volume of blood as they each exsanguinate is unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed.

Admittedly, it was messy when I killed Carlo, but this is different. I sit and stare as the pool of blood creeps with menace across the floorboards, staining the wood as it travels. The shiny surface breaks in places where the old floorboards have gaps, and I can hear the macabre pattering as the blood drips through the cracks. All I smell is death. So overpowering, I can feel it coating my tongue with a grim metallic aftertaste.

As much as I try, I cannot subdue my reaction when my eyes come to rest on Salvatore’s body. I wretch and heave, vomiting at the sight of his tongue, severed and discarded on the floor by his body.

“I hope he burns in hell, tortured for all eternity, screaming out his agony.” Max hisses, forcing out a maniacal laugh. “You’re not usually so squeamish, princess.”

He drags me across the floor, away from the slaughter, taking a seat in one of the high-backed armchairs by the fireplace. Yanking me down, I squeal as I’m forced to kneel at his feet. He covers my mouth with one hand as he uses the other to retrieve his phone to make a call.

“Get to the compound. The old man is dead, and I just got promoted. You report to me now.” That’s all he says before he hangs up and places another call. “I need at least twelve men inside for a sweep and clean-up. Leave four on the perimeter.”

He stares straight ahead, lost in his own thoughts. The smile that spreads across his features is grotesque and ever-widening. I can see every thought that dances through his mind as he processes exactly what he’s just done. Not only is he free of any limitations his father placed on him, he is now the most powerful man across both families. His influence is absolute.

I’m held captive by the right hand of the devil, and there will be no escaping him.

This cannot be my fate.

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