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I inhaled a sharp yelp as a bullet silenced the man's broken pleas, and he crumpled to the ground, blood pooling on the floor.
Bending over, Manuel grasped the man's face, staring into his eyes with an entranced expression. "You know the part I love the most?" he asked, his gaze moving to me. It shouldn't have surprised me, the excitement I saw in them. The pleasure.
But it did. The hair on the back on my neck stood on end. My gut churned and the urge to jump from my chair and run from the room was overpowering.
Suddenly, as if he could sense it, Antonio's hands came down on my shoulders, holding me there. I couldn't move.
"The light," Manuel continued, as if I'd answered him. "I love to see the light leave their eyes. That's my favorite part."
A shiver of revolt climbed up my esophagus and I clenched my teeth to keep from vomiting. Antonio's fingers on my shoulders tightened... protectively?
"Now," Manuel's smile was strained, "see how I can protect you, Tatiana?" He paused, waiting for my reaction. "I always protect my little, helpless pajarita," he continued when I didn't respond.
I wanted to show him how well I could protect myself, but my heart was still jack-hammering in my chest, my stomach still clenching in a revolting manner. I was sick at the sight of him, the smell of cooked veal and broccoli, plus the simmering scent of cinnamon--surely dessert waiting in the kitchen--mixed with the blood still pooling from the man's head. All of it combined wasn't helping me gain the courage I wanted--to be able to stab him in the throat with my butter knife.
So, as Manuel's face darkened at my non-response, Antonio's fingers grew tighter on my shoulders. I managed a smile, then a simple, "Thank you."
At this, Manuel relaxed, his fake smile growing genuine. "I always protect what's mine," he said as he sat back down.
As soon as he was seated, two men dragged onion man's body out of the room. The scent of bleach quickly filled the air as a woman in a cook's uniform came in and began to clean up his blood from the floor.
"Eat," Manuel demanded, nodding curtly to the food already served on a white, china plate before me.
I couldn't. Not after that. "Where's Honey," I demanded instead, my fingers clenching the butter knife so tight that the cold metal was a soothing sensation to the fury inside me.
"You care about the girl, then, do you?" Manuel's hand froze, his own bite of veal halfway to his mouth.
I stared at my plate. It was important that I not show any reaction.
Instead, I managed to cut a piece of the white meat and shove it in my mouth. It tasted rubbery, even though it practically melted on my tongue.
I managed to choke down a few more pieces, along with some bright green broccoli before answering him. "Yes, of course. I'm not emotionless."
Manuel's eyes darkened, his head tilting as he took in my words. He was trying to see if there was any underlying meaning to them--he hated it when people called him emotionless.
I showed my teeth in a forced smile. "I'm here for her, aren't I?"
"I was hoping you would say that."
I blinked in genuine surprise. "You did?"
"Yes," A slow grin snaked up his lips, hope filling his expression. "I thought we could be a little family. The three of us."
Manuel had always wanted kids, though the thought of it revolted me.
"Sure," I lied, forcing the next words through clenched teeth. "That would be wonderful." Over my dead body.
All hope quickly died from his eyes. In an instant, they were cold and dead, so dark, I could see the flicker of the candlelight in them. And that's when I knew I hadn't been convincing enough. I rushed my next words.
"I mean, you had said you always wanted a boy, not a girl, so..." My words died in my throat as he deliberately placed the knife and fork on his plate. Fear spiked my chest; I couldn't breathe.
He sighed, shaking his head. "I'm never enough for you, am I, Tatiana?" He stood, casually pulling a needle from his pocket, and the sight of it had my back straightening.
"Of course you are." My teeth began to chatter--I was shaking.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. I'd come here, strong. Ready to fight to the death.
To kill him.
