AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I slammed into him and knocked him onto his back before he’d even registered he had a fight on his hands. He grunted and swung a fist, which froze in midair as I pressed the blade of the knife to his exposed throat.
“That’s right,” I said in a tight, dark voice, my knee digging into his gut. “Stay right there, or this goes straight through your jugular.”
I held out my free hand toward the Deadly Rose underlings. “Another blade, please? I think Maverick here needs a more constant reminder of who has the real power.”
One of the men darted forward and pressed a switchblade into my waiting fingers. I flicked it open and stared down at my victim.
I wasn’t going to kill him, but I did need to make a statement. Well, I had always appreciated a nice visual.
Ignoring the queasiness winding through my gut, I brought the second knife to Maverick’s forehead. At the first prick of the blade, he swore and thrashed in an attempt to buck me off him.
I pressed my weight down and dug the first blade into his throat deep enough that blood welled up along its edge. With a choked sputter, Maverick went still again.
“Better,” I said. “You questioned the Cordovas’ authority, so now I’m leaving our mark on you.”
With several flicks of the switchblade, I carved an image into his forehead—the three-petaled rose with a spike of a stem that served as the symbol of both the Cordovas and the Deadly Rose, to those who knew enough to be aware of our empire’s real name.
Blood seeped from the cuts over Maverick’s forehead. He spat curse after curse at me that I ignored, my knife at his throat keeping him otherwise still.
He’d heal from that soon enough—but my etching would leave a lovely little scar for an awfully long time.
As I finished the last line of the pointed stem, a momentary hesitation gripped me. This was reasonable punishment for the insult to my family, but what about the personal humiliation he’d tried to subject me to?
I couldn’t leave any doubt that Luciana Cordova, even on her own, was no one to be messed with.
An idea so perfect it made me a little sick swam up through my mind. Mom had taught me well in all sorts of ways I couldn’t feel the least bit happy about.
But until I could get away from her, I had to play by the rules of this world.
I snapped my fingers toward my watching associates. “Two of you—pin down his arms.”
“What?” Maverick sputtered. “You bitch! Get your hands off—”
I dug the knife into his neck again, and he cut himself off with a tremor that ran the length of his body. Maverick was a hotshot, all right, but he wanted to live.
Two of the Deadly Rose lackeys yanked at his arms and rammed their feet down to hold them in place. Keeping one hand at Maverick’s throat, I adjusted my position to kneel beside him and yank up his sweat-stained tee.
“I feel like it’s my duty to make sureeverywoman who considers getting up close and personal with you is aware of how you treat a lady,” I said tartly, and tipped the switchblade into the flesh just below his belly button.
When Maverick squealed and thrashed, my knife drew another shallow line across his throat—and my lackeys stomped on his fingers hard enough to crack a few bones. As his protests dwindled into raging whimpers, I dragged my second blade through his skin to write out my brief but incisive message.
I AM A DIPSHIT.
When I’d finished the T, I shoved myself off the guy and took a couple of steps back, restraining a flinch at the sight of my gory artwork. I couldn’t let any of Mom’s people, especially Octavio, catch a hint that I had any regrets about how I’d handled the situation.
“Grab the money, and let’s go.” My words were hollow—I hardly recognized my voice as my own. “I don’t want to have to look at this pig and the rest of his swine for another minute.”
“You got it,boss.” Octavio slid me a snake-like glance and strode forward to stuff the money Maverick had removed back into the bag. From the sharpness of his voice and his movements, he was pissed off at how the situation had turned out. Because I hadn’t killed Maverick like he’d suggested?
But when I turned toward the rest of my crew, a few dipped their heads to me, unmistakably impressed. One guy even gave me a full salute.
I’d lived up to my mother’s name. Hurray for me.
As Octavio hefted the bag, I marched back to the car without looking back. My men closed in around me to bar any thought of retribution from the rest of the Hellborn goons, although they hadn’t risked making a move since I’d tackled Maverick.
My driver was still waiting at the wheel—I couldn’t afford to so much as tremble as I slid into the back seat, even though I was shaking like Jell-O on the inside. It was all I could do to hold in the urge to vomit.
I’d done what I had to do. At least the blood on my hands wasn’t an entire life I’d ended. My conscience was that clear.
