Page 84 of Luciano

I wasn’t the sin. I was the consequence of it.

I was what they made me.

But I wanted to know why she wanted to watch them.

I stepped closer, watching how her pupils dilated. "Why?"

"I told you I want to learn to be your equal." Her thumb brushed a dark stain on the blade. "In every way."

“Okay,” I nodded.

She followed me to the corner where the monitors were mounted. I opened the laptop that controlled the feeds, pulled up the Tomaso footage, made sure the sound was off so she wouldn't hear our talk, Iskipped to the part I knew she wanted to see. Then I hit play. She didn’t look away.

Her eyes fixed on the screen and stayed that way, unblinking, as the footage played. The HD images showed every detail.

She leaned in.

I watched her watching me. She looked to be in awe.

"Here," I said, pausing the footage. My finger tapped the screen where my grip shifted on the hacksaw. "The first cut is easy. The second, you meet resistance."

Her pupils dilated further.

I rewound, zoomed in on the moment bone gave way. "You don’t force it. You let the blade work. Angle up—" I mimed the motion between us, close enough that my knuckles nearly brushed her collarbone. "—or your arms will shake before you finish."

She said, "replay it."

So I played it again.

She studied it like a scholar.

She turned to me suddenly. "What does it feel like... getting vengeance for your mother?"

I paused, finding my words carefully. "There's a moment right after it—when it's done—where it's quiet in my head. No screaming. No replay of what happened. I can't hear crying anymore and there's just... stillness. It’s exhilarating."

I glanced down at her, at the way her chest rose and fell too fast. "But it doesn't last. That's the thing no one tells you. Vengeance is a ritual, not a cure. You can cut off every head. Burn down every house. You can watch the light leave their eyes and still..."

I swallowed hard. "It doesn't get rid of the residual."

Her lips curved downward. "You can hear your mother's screams?"

I nodded.

"I used to wake up hearing gunshots," she said softly. "For years. My body would brace for impact like the bullet was going to hit me instead of her."

The sadness in her eyes ignited something feral in me. It made me want to destroy everyone that had ever hurt her. My father most of all.

Suddenly, she moved.

Fast.

She rose to her tiptoes. Her mouth crashed into mine, angry and hot, teeth clashing before our lips could settle against each other.

Her bite split my lip. I tasted iron and toothpaste.

Her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling hard. We moaned in each other’s mouths.

I responded without thinking, Just on instinct and need.

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