Page 42 of Silent Schemes
Matteo draws a knife—curved, ugly, designed for gutting more than stabbing.
He presses it to my cheek, opening a thin line of blood.
Behind him, Sienna rises.
Her eyes are on the gun at my feet, but her hands are empty.
Matteo digs the blade in deeper. “You think you can just take from me?”
I let my body go slack, dead weight, and knee his shin.
It’s enough to make him stumble.
He turns, ready to finish me, but Sienna is already in motion.
She moves like a viper.
Her hands come up, and there’s the glint of metal, my straight razor, the one she stole from my bathroom.
She flicks it open and slashes at Matteo’s forearm.
He howls, dropping the knife, and swings at her.
She ducks, sweeps his leg, and he goes down hard.
Damn, she’s fast.
She grabs her gun in a split second.
The wounded henchman tries to get a bead on us, but Will appears out of nowhere, empties a full clip into the guy’s chest.
He doesn’t even scream, just gurgles and dies.
Matteo claws for his gun, but Sienna is on him, the gun pressed to his forehead.
She could end it right there.
I can see the calculation in her face: Do it, or don’t.
But instead, she leans in and whispers something in his ear.
He freezes.
His eyes go wide.
Then she smiles and pulls the trigger.
Sienna stands, breathing heavy, blood spattered on her neck and arms.
She meets my gaze, deadly calm.
“You used your last bullet on him,” I say.
She wipes a drop from her cheek. “He was louder than you. Don’t let it go to your head.”
We survey the carnage.
At least ten bodies, glass everywhere, the club a total loss for the night.
