Page 99 of Bitter Prince
I looked at Dante. “Want to let him hang?”
Dante pointed the knife at his face. “Only after he’s sliced and diced.”
“Fair enough.” I pressed the tip of my knife into his fat cheek. “Let’s begin.” I didn’t have to press hard before blood sprouted and ran down his face like crimson tears. A slow grin pulled on my lips.
“The Cortes cartel will come for you if you end me,” he spat, but he didn’t know us. He didn’t know what we represented. There were no cards to play when you ran into us. “Th-they are Brazilian mafia.”
I snickered.
“And that’s supposed to scare us?” Truthfully, Kian should eliminate his lunatic brother and take over. The world would be a much better place. “I’ll be waiting.”
“You’re fucking insane.”
“Wrong,” I said, my tone cold as ice.
“We’re sadists,” Dante chimed in. “It’s what we were raised to be. But you—” He let the silence linger in the air for several heartbeats. “You trap innocent women and take them to a psychopath. Now we’ll do to you what Perez Cortes does to women.”
Father’s adversaries did a number on my brother. He claimed he didn’t remember, but deep down, I was fairly certain he repressed the memories as a way to cope. So, I’d let him work through it the only way I knew how—by letting him take out his anger with torture.
Like he said, we were sadists.
Some of us more than others, but I didn’t elaborate. My thirst for vengeance had dimmed in the last several weeks. It had everything to do with Reina and nothing to do with the document my mother so desperately needed. But this… I couldn’t let it slide.
To further prove his point, Dante slashed his knife across Dietrich’s stomach, deep and hard. He screamed as blood oozed from the open cut. I grinned, then followed behind with two more slashes.
“Now, Dietrich.” I took a step back as he screamed bloody murder. “We’ve just cut your stomach, and soon your innards will spill from your gut.”
“No, please,” he sputtered. My eyes hadn’t left his pathetic form this entire time; he must have realized he was going to die.
Dante rolled his eyes. “It’ll be a long night.”
The fucker started screaming, kicking, and bucking. He was only speeding up his death. Might be a good thing for him under different circumstances, but Dante’s thirst for vengeance wasn’t sated. Not even close.
So, he marked him up. Every inch of Dietrich’s skin had “Rapist” carved onto it while the fucker screamed so loud the whole of Saint-Tropez would have heard us if the walls weren’t insulated.
On a final scream, his efforts failed and his legs fell until his toes scraped against the concrete of the basement floor. In seconds, the slashes I’d made tore open, and out spilled his bowels all over the floor.
And fuck, it made me feel good that one less fucker who didn’t understand the meaning of “no” was gone.
41
REINA
The constant rocking made it hard to wake up.
It soothed me, and each time I thought my eyelids would open, I was lulled back to sleep. It took a while for the sound of the waves to register through the fog of dreams.
I sat up and found myself in a beautifully decorated stateroom. The events of last night rushed in and my eyes darted around frantically until I foundhim.
Amon was asleep on the chair, his legs outstretched and his arms folded over his bare chest. He was in nothing but sweatpants, and suddenly, I understood the appeal. Give me sweatpants on a man over jeans and a three-piece suit any freaking day.
I brought my hand to my mouth to make sure I wasn’t drooling. It’d be embarrassing to be caught in that state.
My gaze trailed over his torso, those abs that I wanted to lick, taste, and kiss. Good Lord, I didn’t know if my hormones were acting up or I was just… well, horny.
Forcing my eyes to his face, I let out a dreamy sigh. He was so beautiful it hurt to look at him. His dark hair was tousled and the sunlight streaming through the windows gave his bronze skin a deep glow.
I returned my attention to the room. Last night, when he and Dante brought us on the boat, it was too dark to see it or appreciate it. Considering we missed our train back to Paris and our allowances didn’t budget for the extortionate prices for hotel rooms here, Amon’s yacht was a godsend.
