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Norman is doomed.
Antonio backhands him, and Norman doubles over in agony.
I creep closer while Antonio digs two black gloves from his pocket and slips them on. A brawny man drags a blanket off something in the corner to reveal an animal carrier and brings it to Antonio.
“Do you know what eats rats, Norman?” Antonio opens the carrier with a click.
“Uh …” Norman kicks his heels against the concrete, pitifully attempting to break free.
Antonio removes an animal from the carrier.
I wedge my head between two barrels to get a clearer view.
It’s a snake, for fuck’s sake.
Norman realizes this at the same time. He thrashes his body from side to side, desperate to break free. The chair teeters and braces on three legs. The snake is calm, allowing Antonio to hold it as if it’s a pet he’s raised since it was a pup … or whatever you call baby snakes.
Reminder: Google that later.
“Now, Norman”—Antonio circles him like the predator he is—“meet our Lombardi mascot, Ace. He teaches ourratslessons.”
Norman attempts to lift his arms, but the tape restraining him is too tight.
Antonio hums and smirks. “Ace is a saw-scaled viper, the most venomous snake in the world.”
“I’ll do anything,” Norman cries out. “I’m begging you! Please don’t let him bite me.”
“Bite you?” Antonio tsks. “I’d never make Ace stick his fangs into the likes of you.” He pets Ace. “Ace had his venom removed, so I’m injecting it into you. He’ll kill a rat without even having to touch it.”
One of his men opens a cooler and extracts a syringe, and Antonio takes it from him.
Norman sobs when a man behind him grips the back of his head and exposes his throat. Antonio plunges the syringe of venom into Norman’s neck, and he screams.
Oh my fucking God.
I clutch a hand over my mouth to muffle my gasps.
Seconds later, Norman falls silent, his face covered in sweat as if processing what happened. Or searching his brain for any known facts about what happens to the body when injected with snake venom.
Reminder number two: also Google that.
“What should we do with him, boss?”
“Wait here until he dies.” Antonio removes one glove and shoves it into his pocket before checking his watch. “It should only take about twenty minutes.”
That’s my cue to slither on out of here.
Forget about peeing.
I’m not about to become snake food.
I slowly back up, turn … and then my foot smacks straight into a bucket, knocking it over. The sound echoes through the warehouse like an alarm. Antonio’s focus shifts to me, and he charges in my direction.
I’m about to die, all for a pee break.
I circle the barrels to escape but am too slow. Antonio captures my wrist and swings me around to face him so forcefully that I knock over a barrel.
Raising my gaze, I find him staring down at me, his face stolid.
