“Yes. We are closing the doors now. Everyone who was invited to the event in your family has been escorted outside,” Silas says, pulling the door behind him until it clicks shut. “Easton has several kill bags tossed into the bushes, and we’re all armed to the teeth. It’s time to play.”
Nodding, I straighten, looking around the room for someone to pick a fight with. My cousin, Maura, is laughing with her husband, and I begin walking in her direction. Now that my mind is unclouded, I can remember that her son, Rico, is the man who loved to taunt me day after day after I was raped.
I think taking his mama from him is exactly what the mental health therapist would want me to do. That is, if I saw one and she was as psychotic as I am.
Rico is off to the side next to her, talking with Hollis. She’s pretending to be interested in what he has to say, and allows him to put his hand on her arm. I can see now the fire banked in her gaze as she keeps her lids half closed as she listens to him, and I decide that I much prefer having her on our side tonight.
“Rosalia. I see you’re pretending to be your father’s perfect daughter today,” Maura says, turning toward me. “Were youreally going to just walk by and not say hello to me? The disrespect!”
I have a purse hanging from my wrist, but the only things inside of it are lipgloss and a Lady Smith. I usually would try to play nice with her. I simply don’t have the patience, my stomach hurts, and I have murder on my mind.
This mansion is away from surrounding houses, and the owner has a gun range outside. People who live near here are used to the sound of gunfire, which means I don’t need to worry about a silencer. The walls are also fairly thick and the performers have very loud music.
My little murdering heart is free to do what I’ve wanted to do for a long time.
“Hello, Aunt Maura,” I purr. “Did you donate to the charity tonight?”
“I bid on a few things, yes,” she says, sounding bored. When someone bids, it’s all electronic and they have to enter their credit card information. If she wins, she will be charged, even if she’s dead.
A thrill of excitement shivers up my spine, and I wonder if it’ll make me a bad person to ask Pablo to empty all of their bank accounts to donate to charities around the city. I know tonight’s event will be a success, I think we should spread the love.
Or maybe I can fix Nico’s problem of funding for the victims of sexual abuse at the hands of his father. The possibilities are endless.
Before I can get too excited, I open my clutch.
“That’s wonderful,” I say, bored. “It’s so nice to know you’re not a completely heartless bitch.”
“Rosalia—!”
Pulling my gun, I give her my best fake apologetic smile before I shoot her in the head. Turning, I drop my purse and kill her husband as well.
“Mama!” Rico screams. “Rosa, you fucking whore!”
“Hush, I’m not ready to deal with you yet,” I reply calmly, aiming for his leg and shooting him.
Cassidy walks up behind him and pulls his arms behind his back, and quietly zip ties them before she kicks his legs out from underneath him. Yells and pandemonium erupt around us, though people are murdered as they try to figure out what the problem is.
“This is unacceptable,” Rico’s uncle growls, twisting to see what’s happening around him before slapping me so hard I can taste blood. “You’ll pay for this!”
Those few moments cost him everything and I backhand my uncle in response to his slap. The heels at least give me a few inches of height, and I use them to my advantage as I kick and fight until I can shoot him.
My stomach continues to hurt, and I toss my empty weapon in exchange for my knife. It feels so much better as I slash and stab my way through the room, because my body is on fire and I want others to hurt the way I do.
“Rosa!”
Breathing heavily, I look around to see we’ve cleared the room, and my husband is yelling my name. Bodies litter the ground, my blood lust is still riding me hard, and there are still people to kill. A line of my family members kneel on their ground, breathing hard and trying not to get my attention.
Glancing down at myself, I see that I have indeed ruined my dress. Blood covers my arms and bodice, yet I’m in good company as there are many other people in the room in the same boat.
Striding toward me, Nico begins to pull out baby wipes to clean my hands and lower arms.
“Where did you get those?” I ask dully. Yeah, I’m definitely disassociating hard.
“Easton has some in one of his bags. You doing okay? Oh fuck.Rosa.”
“Ugh, stop saying my name like it’s a curse word,” I groan.
“You’re in heat,” he grits out.
