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“So, I already took your balls. Sucks, but you can survive without testicles,” I tell Pavone, still rubbing his ball against his lips and chin. “I might let you die with your cock still attached, as long as you fucking apologize to Lucia.”
Pavone’s eyes widen, and his terror solidifies further. “No!”
I wave the knife in front of his eyes. “Yes. You think I wouldn’t?”
Before Pavone can answer, the basement door opens. I hear footsteps, and instantly, I’m up on my feet with my gun pointed at the stairs.
“It’s us,” Saint says, holding his hands out.
Lucia looks up at them as well, still sitting on Pavone’s lap. It would almost be cute if it wasn’t for the blood everywhere—and the fact that it’s Pavone.
Pavone starts to laugh, hysterically, even as tears stream down his cheeks. “Of course Corvi has to be here. Why wouldn’t he?” His voice is rough from screaming, tinged with pain, and he seems even more unbalanced than usual.
I guess I would be unbalanced if my balls had been cut off, too, though. It’s a miracle he hasn’t passed out from the pain.
Victor walks down the stairs, staying well outside the pool of blood. He wrinkles his nose in disgust. “A bit crude.”
I flip him off with the hand holding the knife. “You want me to cut yours off too, Victor?”
“No thank you, I’ll pass,” Victor answers calmly. Then he casts his gaze on Lucia. “Please put the phone away, love. We don’t want a record of what’s about to happen.”
Pavone starts laughing again. “Gonna kill me yourself, Corvi? Or you gonna… fuck… gonna let me bleed out…”
Saint approaches, looking down at where I dropped one of Pavone’s bloody testicles. He wrinkles his nose and nudges it with his foot.
“Bleeding out would be too good for you,” Lucia mutters.
“No one asked you, whore,” Pavone snaps raggedly at her.
She glares at him.
Victor sighs and extends his hand in Lucia’s direction. He’s holding a gun. “I thought about giving you a farewell speech, Pavone, but the truth of the matter is, you don’t matter to me. I’ll get more satisfaction out of watching Lucia shoot you.”
If that’s how he’s going to play it… I shrug, wipe my hands on Pavone’s jacket, then get up to stand next to Saint. I share a small smirk with him, and the heat of the moment means I’m feeling a bit daring, so I kiss him. Saint must be feeling something, too, because he doesn’t break the kiss immediately.
“Fuck, you’re so gross,” Saint mutters when he remembers to pull away.
I’m ready to snap at him—he’s just as bi as I am—but he catches my expression and adds, “Your hands, Angel. You got blood all over my suit.”
I have more than blood on my hands, which I choose not to tell him.
Lucia rises, no longer worried about pinning Pavone to the floor. He doesn’t have the energy to do anything other than flop uselessly around anyway. It’s all he can do to keep his eyes open, which is a shame. I’d have liked to see him suffer longer.
She slowly reaches out, taking the gun from Victor’s hand. She studies it for a moment, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s going to turn it on us. She has every reason to, especially if her vitriolic words the last time she was near us were any indication of her true feelings. She wouldn’t be able to shoot all three of us before one of us could subdue her, though, and she has to know that.
“Just shoot me and get it over with,” Pavone slurs. “I don’t need to see this shit.”
Lucia’s expression hardens. “If you hadn’t treated my sister and mother the way you did, I would have played along. But you didn’t even have that bare minimum of decency.” She raises the gun and points it at Pavone’s chest.
There’s no chance for Pavone to answer before the gunshot rings out in the basement. It’s loud, echoing across the tiled room. I feel Saint startle against me.
When Lucia turns around, she still has a firm grip on the gun. She looks stunning, with the blood seeping up her wedding dress, creating a beautiful red-and-white gradient. The fierce expression on her face doesn’t waver.
“Now tell me why the fuck I shouldn’t just shoot all three of you, too,” she demands.
32
VICTOR
