Page 9 of Dark Prince

DOMENICO

If there was any doubt lodged in my mind about what I had planned on rectifying tonight, it was squashed the moment I entered Kennedy’s apartment to find her pathetic, skank ass passed out on the couch. After a minute longer than she deserves of my disgusted stare, my eyes skate over the area, seeing enough heroin laid out on the glass coffee table to supply a packed nightclub in Manhattan.

“How long you plan on standing there?” Krishna asks, his glacier eyes watching me from behind the couch where his gloved hands press into the fabric, his expression bored.

“As long as I fucking want. You got somewhere to be, then by all means, fuck off.”

This bitch didn’t help some crazed fucknut almost kill his sister. She didn’t put his soon-to-be niece’s life in danger more than once. If he doesn’t want to be here, he can leave. I can deal with this shit and anything else on my own. I don’t need him. I don’t need anyone.

The sour taste on my tongue makes me grit my teeth.

“You want me to off the bitch? Just say so and it’s done. I’ll shoot enough H into her that she won’t come back. I’ll do the job right for you this time.”

My eyes snap to his, the urge to strangle him with my bare hands and choke him with my dick at the same time stronger than the need to slice this whore from limb to limb. His presence always has the ability to heat my core and piss me off in the same breath. “She doesn’t get the easy way out this time. I don’t care if I have to wait all goddamn night for her to wake up. When I finish her, she’s going to be present, in the here and now, she’s going to feel every second of the pain.”

“That’s every one of you Caputos’ problem. You all get so goddamn emotional that it clouds your judgment. Just kill the bitch and be done with it. It’s that simple, Dom.”

“Come talk to me when it’s your family, motherfucker. Otherwise, suck my dick, because frankly, that’s the only time I like your mouth open.”

His blue, damn near see-through eyes drop to the front of my pants, and as if he pressed an on button, my cock swells behind my jeans. This isn’t the first time that’s happened tonight, I think to myself as I watch Krishna’s mouth as his tongue slowly darts out, coating his lips in saliva, and remember the exact moment he leaned forward from behind me and whispered in my ear.

You, on the other hand, don’t need luck tonight. It’s a guarantee you’ll be begging me to fuck you before the night ends. Tell me I’m wrong, Domenico.

My dick grows harder and my breath turns labored. One side of K’s mouth curves up into a smirk that only fuels the heat that’s burning hotter with every second that passes.

“All you have to do is beg,” he says.

“Fuck you,” I spit back.

“I’m going to. Or you’ll fuck me and then I’ll fuck you. Either way, we’re both getting fucked tonight. You know it. I know it. Question is—”

The moan from the couch stops Krishna mid-sentence, pulling both our eyes down to the nasty mess sprawled half on the couch cushions and half almost falling to the floor. The sight of her alone deflates my aching cock.

Forcing everything that just transpired between us to the back seat, I spring forward, jumping over the end of the couch, and then bring my two-hundred-and-two pounds of body weight down on top of her. “Grab her hands. I don’t need this bitch clawing at me.”

Krishna does as I’ve instructed. He rounds to the opposite side of the couch I was previously standing in front of and snatches both of her wrists in his leather-covered hand. Kennedy whines from his use of force. K and I are alike in that way. Even when we aren’t trying to be rough, we still end up that way. Neither of us knows how to be gentle; not that this whore deserves anything less than brutal.

“Wh-what,” she starts to sputter as her shoulders begin to squirm, even though her eyes remain closed.

“Tape her mouth shut,” I bark as I let the knife hidden within the sleeve of my leather jacket fall to my palm. Ren and Sienna aren’t the only ones with nifty clothing options. We each have the same one, except Si’s fits her snugger in a feminine type of way. Lorenzo is the one into knives. I got his as a Christmas gift last year, but then thought, what the hell, I’ll get us all one.

Securing Kennedy’s right wrist with her other one in Krishna’s left, he reaches behind his back, grabbing the roll of duct tape I snatched from Giovanni’s SUV. Tossing it to me, he says, “You got more hands than I do,” and goes back to holding both of her limbs with each hand.

Clucking my tongue in irritation, I pick up the roll from where it landed on her stomach after it dropped from nailing me in the chest. Holding the roll and knife in one hand, I rip off a strip and press it over her lips and cheeks. I made sure to wear gloves so I don’t leave any fingerprints on anything, including the sticky residue of the tape. I just hope Krishna was smart and didn’t get his or anyone else’s on the non-adhesive side.

With the bottom of Kennedy’s skimpy tank top, I run the material over the tape roughly, wiping it off the best I can to make sure no evidence can be traced back to us.

Her face scrunches as she tries to move under me, but due to my weight, she’s unsuccessful in her attempt at getting away. Finally, her eyelids start to blink open. Letting the roll of tape drop, I grip the handle of the knife firmly and place the razor-sharp edge to her throat. There’s a quick intake of air, letting me know I’ve gained her attention as I watch her pupils focus on me first, and then her head reclines farther, seeing Krishna towering over her.

With her eyebrows lifted, it’s easy to see the faint scar that resides between her hairs almost hidden to the naked eye unless you know it’s there. Sienna told me years ago about the locket incident the two of them had, but I’d forgotten until now. The remnants of that scar make my chest swell with pride. My sister deserves an Oscar for letting Kennedy get away with everything she called her over the course of their four years in high school. Had it been me, this bitch wouldn’t have made it a week.

Retracting the knife away from where her larynx remains intact, I move it to the left brow, pressing the metal against her raised, uneven skin. “My sister should have left more than a little nick behind as a reminder. It’s apparent the message wasn’t clear enough.” Her eyes grow wide, fear taking root as her awareness of the predicament she’s in starts to register the more the haze clears out. Blood oozes around the blade when I add just a little more pressure. “Fuck with a Caputo, shame on you. Fuck with us again, shame on us.”

In a swift move, I draw the knife back, creating a deep cut. Her body tenses and she tries to scream, the tape keeping her just quiet enough, but her hums fuel my need to continue, so I make another cut along her cheek on the opposite side. This bitch is too vain for her own good.

Tears leak from both corners of her eyes as her head moves from side to side. “Go ahead, fight it all you want. My face is the last one you’re going to see.” I swipe the blade under her chin. “And Brooklyn,” I say, a smile curving up on one side of my lips, “the last face she’ll see every night before she goes to sleep is my sister’s. Sienna will be the mother your daughter deserves while you rot in Hell.”

Squeezing the handle of the knife, I bear down with all my strength and rake it hard across the front of her throat, from ear to ear, slicing through inches of skin and muscle to ensure the bitch can’t come back from this, and then I bare my teeth at her as I stare, unblinking, watching the blood run from the cut.

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