Page 119 of Hate Mates

Dario is calmer. Colder. His gaze flickers over me before turning back to Vincenzo, who is breathing hard, blood running down the side of his face. “Not so invincible now, are you?”

Vincenzo spits blood onto the floor, lifting his head with a smirk that’s all sharp edges. “I’ve had worse.”

Angelo doesn’t react. Instead, he cocks the gun and presses the barrel against Vincenzo’s forehead; two guns ready to kill my husband.

I don’t think. I scream.

“Wait! Stop?—”

Silence.

Vincenzo’s eyes cut to me, wild, furious. “Ottavia, don’t?—”

“Don’t kill him, please,” I beg, tears streaming down my face. “I’ll do anything. Just don’t kill my husband.”

Angelo raises a brow. “And what could you possibly offer us, Mrs. Del Rossa?”

“What do you want?”

He licks his lips, and it’s almost demonic, the way his thoughts are painted over his evil face. “I can think of something.”

“Don’t you fucking?—”

Dario slams the back of his gun in Vincenzo’s face, sending him to the ground, blood splattering on the pristine white walls.

“Please!” I cry. “I’ll do anything, just stop hurting him.”

Vincenzo snarls, spitting blood. “Ottavia, shut the fuck up.”

I ignore him. They’re going to kill him if I don’t do something.

Angelo comes toward me, and I do everything I can not to run, to keep my feet firmly planted. If I don’t, I lose my husband.

He yanks me forward, dragging me away as Vincenzo roars my name, the sound splitting my soul into pieces. My chest tightens, panic clawing at my ribs, but I don’t look back.

I made this choice.

Angelo licks his slimy tongue up the side of my face, bile rising up my throat. “Maybe fucking his wife in front of him will be punishment enough for taking advantage of our little sister.”

“No!” I snap. “Not in front of him.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Please. I won’t fight you. I’ll do whatever you want, just…” I swallow my sobs, every muscle trembling. “Just…not in front of him.”

“Don’t you fucking touch her,” Vincenzo snarls, dragging himself up, swaying like a man who refuses to fall. His body is broken, but his rage burns stronger.

Dario doesn’t hesitate—grabs him by the hair and drives a fist into his stomach, knocking the air from his lungs. Another blow to the ribs. A knee to the face.

With a sickening crack of bone, Vincenzo crumbles. Silent. Unmoving.

Everything inside me breaks. Every muscle. Every bone. Every beat of my heart hurts as I stare at Vincenzo, hoping to God he’s still breathing. But I can’t see. He’s lying so still.

Oh, God.

Angelo’s grip is bruising as he drags me away, his breath hot against my ear. “That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, amusement laced with something darker. “You’ll find I’m much more generous than your husband ever was.”

My stomach clenches in horror. I know what they want. It’s written in their leers, in the way Angelo runs his tongue over his teeth, like he’s already tasting me.

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