Fuck! Is he really going to do it?!
The blade hovered over Vito’s wrist, spinning the jagged teeth faster and faster.
Oh my God. Oh my God.
Vito’s screams were incoherent, a mixture of pleas and terror. I think in one moment he pled in Italian over and over.
But Gianni’s face remained impassive, as though he were performing a simple task.
Something mundane.
Something unworthy of emotion.
Jesus Christ. He’s done this many times before. . .
Gianni spoke in such a calm way thatIalmost pissed myself. It was like he was giving someone directions to an ice cream shop. “You’ve marred my wife’s skin with your filth, and for that, you must pay.”
Uh. . .maybe. . .he’s learned his lesson.
I was too terrified to even say that.
I glanced at my father.
Maximo had closed his eyes.
I looked back at Gianni and Vito.
The blade slowly descended.
Oh God!
The first contact sent a spray of blood across the pristine marble, bright and red and shocking against the pale stone.
Ah!
Vito’s scream echoed through the room, a sound of pure, animalistic agony that reverberated against the walls.
Even the chandeliers trembled.
No wonder all the female guests left.
I could see every detail, every gruesome inch as the blade bit into Vito’s skin, tearing through flesh and muscle with a sickening crunch when it met the bone.
Blood gushed from the wound, pooling on the floor beneath his hand.
That crimson liquid spread in a widening circle.
And the whole time, Gianni’s expression was serene like he was lounging on the beach having a day of rest.
He’s insane. Completely fucking insane.
“My queen,” Gianni murmured as he kept sawing off Vito’s hand, “My queen is only to be cherished. No man will ever touch her, not with harm or with pleasure.”
Vito screamed and looked close to passing out.
The blade ground deeper, hitting more bone with a jarring, grating sound that made my stomach churn.
Dear God!
