He chuckles, his head falling back. “And what will you do when more of my men come? You gonna kill them all? By yourself?” His face twists with mockery, dismissing my power. My strength.
“I’ve killed many so far, and I’ll do it for as long as I need to find her. If you won’t tell me where she is, I’ll make sure you die so slowly, you’ll beg for me to make it faster.” My lips jerk with a snicker. “You forget you made me.” I right myself, heading to retrieve one of the knives on the floor a few feet away. “Give yourself some credit.”
When I pivot around, he eyes the blade in my hand, darting his wild stare back to me with a nervous grin. I can practically see his lips shaking. “What are you gonna do with that thing?”
“Well…” I flip the knife in my hand. “First, I’m gonna carve our names on your skin so that even as your flesh joins the dirt you belong in, you’ll never forget us.”
The quick jerk of his breath is small, but enough for me to catch it. A triumphant smile appears on my face, finally feeling like I’ve got the upper hand. After so long of being the captive, I’m now the one who holds the key. Literally.
“I’m done playing games. Who has her?” I clutch the black handle of the small knife, its blade glistening in the drops of light flickering against its sharp edges.
I prod slowly, back to the man who holds all the answers. Who’s taken everything and everyone from me.
I want to hurt him so damn bad, I’m literally vibrating with the need. I want him to suffer. I want him to bleed until he’s dead.
“You gotta let me go for me to tell you that,” he jeers with a flick of his thick, dark brows.
“You still think you’re in charge, don’t you?” Standing before him, I let the blade crawl down his chest until it reaches his stomach, and slowly, meticulously, without taking my eyes off his, I let the very tip of it puncture his skin.
He groans, his teeth gritted as he stares hard into me. “Fuck you.”
“How does it feel?” I continue to cut into him with a glare. “Not to be the one who hurts, but the one to hurt instead?”
“You can’t do shit to me, kid.” His nostrils expand. “I’m Agnelo fucking Bianchi. You hear me?”
“Yeah.” I shrug my shoulders. “I hear you.”
Before he can even pull in a breath, I stab his palm so hard, the blade makes it to the other side.
“Ahhh! You son of a biiiitch!” he screams, but I ignore it, pulling up his shirt in the front. Painstakingly, I cut her name across his chest in big letters.
“I’m g-gonna kill you,” he screams, trying to stop me with his working hand, no longer able to keep the brave front he’s been trying to hold on to.
“You really shouldn’t disturb an artist when he’s working.” I raise the knife in the air and stab that hand, once, twice, maybe more. I’ve lost count from the seething blaze burning inside me.
He grunts. He screams. He cries. I’ve waited years to hear that son of a bitch cry. If only Aida was here. We could do this together.
“Now that you’re better behaved,” I taunt. “I can continue.”
Right under her name, I cut out mine.
There’s so much blood dripping down, I don’t realize it until I’m done.
“Had enough yet?” My laughter bites with a cold rush of emotions.
He coughs as he tries to calm his breathing, his chest swelling up with force.
“No? Fine. Have it your way.” I march back to the stash of weapons I found in the van, lowering to the floor to pick up one of the nines. “I’m gonna hurt you every fucking way I can, but I won’t let you die. Because I need you alive. For now. But how you die”—I lift the weapon aiming it at his hand, the one chained—“well, that’s on you.”
Pop.
He screams loudly as the bullet enters another part of his hand, and it’s like music. I shut my eyes, breathing softly, enjoying his suffering. Does that make me a monster? Maybe. But I’m okay with that.
“Where’re Aida and Robby?” I ask calmly, yet my pulse is increasing every second. I need to find them. Fast. This is taking too long.
Gradually, his face lifts up to mine, his body shuddering as his eyes still spill with venom.
“Still won’t tell me? Okay.” Without a blink, I pop a bullet into the top of his foot and the deafening shouting of a coward is what I hear next. “I’ll keep doing this until you break. And youwillbreak, Agnelo. I promise.”