Page 136 of My Broken Bodyguard 3: Catch & Bianca

“Bianca,” I warned.

“Catch, he’s my wedding gift. Unless you’re in the habit of taking back gifts,” Bianca taunted, a sly smile on her lips.

I met her gaze evenly. “I don’t take back regular gifts. But he’s not regular—he’s the equivalent of week-old garbage. And garbage needs to be disposed of.”

GT interrupted, his voice shaky as he tried to cut into our exchange. “Bianca, the white boy is fucking crazy—like on some Joker-type shit.”

She turned her sharp gaze on him. “What did my husband do?”

GT’s eyes darted between us. “Why the hell would you marry this crazy white boy?”

Her expression hardened, and her voice dripped with venomous pride. “Because he respects me. He treats me like the queen I am. He brought HQ and his little crew to their knees—for me. And we tortured them,” she added with a twisted glint in her eyes.

GT’s face fell. “Wait a damn minute. You two killed them?”

“They took a long walk,” Bianca replied with a dark chuckle.

“That sounds like something fromThe Sopranos,” GT muttered nervously.

I sneered at him. “It is. ButThe Sopranosis just a TV show. In the mafia, we don’t play pretend. We do that shit for real.”

His eyes grew the size of saucers.

“What the fuck, B? You fucking mafia motherfuckas now?” GT asked, his tone dripping with disbelief as he looked her up and down like she’d lost her mind.

“You always acted like you were too good for a hood nigga,” Stevie chimed in, his voice laced with bitterness.

“And now you married into that shit,” Stevie added with a shake of his head. “Ain’t no way out of it now.”

A smirk curled his lips as he sneered, “Didn’t know mafia dudes were gathering up hood rats,” Stevie snickered.

GT burst into laughter, doubling over like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

You could say I’d lost all sense of reality at that moment.

I forcefully struck Stevie in the stomach with the butt of my rifle, causing his back to collide audibly with the chair.

“She’s not a hood rat. Just because she lived in the inner city didn’t make her less than. She’s an intelligent woman. So are her friends.”

A surge of blind rage engulfed me, my vision tunneling until all I saw were the two bastards in front of me. My rifle fell to the ground, forgotten as I gripped a switchblade in each hand. With primal fury, I slashed at Stevie and GT's thighs with savage force, over and over again, relishing in their screams and cries for mercy. How dare they speak about her that way? The assholes who were laughing just seconds ago were now cowering like pathetic little bitches.

“No one disrespects my wife and lives to talk about it,” I snarled through gritted teeth before delivering another vicious blow.

CHAPTER FORTY

MY REVENGE

BIANCA

Isat on the plastic sheet, my legs crossed as I watched my husband turn GT and Stevie’s thighs into swiss cheese.

Catch would eventually come up for air. I glanced over at the kitchen, wondering if there was any food to snack on. My husband always took care of me, especially when it came to dealing with men who hurt me. His chest heaved, as he stepped back from our prisoners, their crimson blood dripping from the blades at his sides onto the plastic sheet like raindrops.

“Catch, is there food in the kitchen?”

His intense gaze cut to me. But he said nothing. The only sound in the room was GT and Stevie’s cries.

I stood to my feet. “You’ve got this, right? You’ll kill them for me. There’s a pattern forming. You weren’t going to ask for my hand in marriage. You planned to drag me down the aisle. I asked you to let me torture and kill GT...”

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