Page 82 of Mistletoe in the Mafia

“Shut the hell up,” I growl, stepping forward, unable to stay silent any longer.

Surprisingly, he does, visibly too weak to continue to speak. He’s about to lose consciousness—and if he does, then he’ll die.

That’s not happening yet.

I’m about to move to the corner of the room where a bucket of water sits. But Madelyn stops me.

“Enough.”

“What?” I ask her.

She reaches for my arm, her hand brushing against my bare skin. The touch sets me alight and damns me all in the same breath. Every part of me aches for her.

“I said you’ve done enough.”

“You said he deserved much more.”

“He does,” she says tiredly. “But not from you. This isn’t you, Dominic. You don’t have to stoop to his level to prove anything. Your parents wouldn’t want you to. Ilya wouldn’t want you to. And I especially don’t need you to. The best way to punish him is letting go of all our anger. Kill him and be done with it. Once he dies, he’ll be nothing.”

My chest tightens, the weight of her words crashing down on me like a tidal wave. She pulls out a gun and my eyebrows rise.

“Camila gave it to me. I’m so going to keep it, but first you get to borrow it. Kill him, Dominic,” she says firmly, pressing the gun into my palm.

“He hasn’t suffered enough,” I murmur, my voice barely audible.

“He has. You’re just punishing him because you can’t punish yourself,” she says gently. “Kill him now, Dominic, or I’ll do it.”

That more than anything has me snatching the gun from her hands. I’d do anything to keep her away from the darkness that plagues my soul. I turn around to face Scepter. My hand shakes a little as I wrap my finger around the trigger of the gun.

“You’re not a monster like him, Dom,” Madelyn says quietly. “You’re so much better.”

I don’t feel anything as I pull the trigger. The sound of the gunshot is deafening but my aim rings through. Right in the middle of his forehead. I get to see him take his last breath. His body jerks and falls still, and just like that, the monster that plagued both our nightmares is dead.

When I turn around, there are light tears sliding down Madelyn’s face.

“Don’t worry,” she says on a sniff. “These are tears of relief. I’m just glad it’s over. I’m glad he’s gone.”

She’s right. It’s freeing, in a sense. Like a weight finally off my shoulders.

“Thank you, Flowers,” I breathe.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here and into a shower,” she states. “You stink.”

That makes me pause. “Why aren’t you leaving?”

“Do you want me gone?” she asks on a frown.

“I’d beg you on my knees to never leave me if I thought it would change your mind about us.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “While the sight of that certainly wouldn’t hurt, I don’t need you on your knees, Dominic.”

“Then what do you need?”

She sighs. “We need to talk.”

After she convinces me to leave the torture room, I head to the main house and take a much-needed shower. I surprisingly don’t see my cousin or any of my friends. I guess they cleared out to give us some space. After the shower, I find Madelyn in the kitchen, waiting for me, with a cheeseburger on a plate in front of her.

“This is yours. I never thought the day would come when our roles would switch and I’d be the one feeding you,” she says, visibly amused.

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