Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77824 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77824 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Dario was actually right behind Servando. Sometimes, my friend manages to amaze me with his skills.
Holding out my hand, I only wait a couple of seconds before Emilio places a knife in my palm.
Enrique’s eyes go wide as saucers, “We had a deal!”
The corner of my mouth lifts in a smirk. “Yes. I agreed to make sure you get to India in one piece. I didn’t say whether you’d be dead or alive.”
“No! I told you where Servando is.”
“I appreciate the information,” I mutter before I order, “Strip him down to his underwear.”
“No!” He shouts, struggling against Carlo and Emilio as they rip his clothes off his body.
When they have him kneeling again, I say, “Not only did you gut my brother open like a bag of meat, but you once a-fucking-gain pissed me off by going after my woman’s father.”
Enrique shakes his head wildly, fear trembling in his eyes.
I move fast and slam the fucker down onto his back while pressing my knee hard into his groin.
“She had to watch as you killed him,” I hiss as I hold the knife ready over his stomach. “And I had to watch as she fucking broke.”
I slam the knife into his gut, ripping an agonizing wail from him.
“I want you to see what I saw when I found my brother,” I growl as I hack the knife through his skin, all the way to his pubic hair. His screams fill the air until they become incoherent whimpers, his body shuddering from the pain.
Just like I did with Castellanos, I shove my hand into his open gut, and gripping whatever I feel first, I rip it out of him, making sure he’s able to see his own intestines and organs as he goes into shock before dying.
Rising to my feet, I drop the already lukewarm intestines and shake the blood off my hand.
“Put everything back, close him up, and ship him to India,” I order before I turn around.
My eyes land on Skylar, who has a strange look on her pale face. It’s a mixture of disgust, horror, and relief.
Walking closer to her, I hold my clean hand out to her.
She stares at it for a moment, then surprises the fuck out of me by coming to take hold of my bloody hand. Lifting her head, her eyes are still dull when they meet mine.
Weaving our fingers together, I pull her out of the room and head down to the restroom so I can wash the blood off our hands.
I don’t think Skylar fully understands what she just did.
By taking my bloody hand, she stepped into my world and left her own behind.
Chapter 32
Skylar
After Bianca gave me a complete checkup, assured Renzo I was physically okay, and reminded us of my biopsy next week, he brought us home.
Somehow, I managed to take a shower and put on a clean dress before heading down to the kitchen.
I remove all the vegetables from the fridge and pantry and set them down on the island. I pull all the plastic containers from the cupboard and set them down in a neat row.
Grabbing a cutting board and chopping knife, I start with the spring onions, chopping them fine before placing them in a container.
I pull the pack of carrots closer and get started on slicing them.
The nightmarish day replays on a constant loop in my mind.
I see Louisa and Dad being shot…their bodies at the mansion.
Watching Renzo kill two of the men…how he disemboweled Enrique.
Even though it was sickening, it also gave me some sense of relief. I should feel bad, but I don’t.
I feel nothing.
“What are you doing?” Renzo suddenly asks.
“Prepping,” I murmur, my tone emotionless.
He comes to pull the knife from my hand, and taking hold of my shoulders, he turns me so I’ll face him.
Leaning down, he catches my eyes and stares at me for a moment before he pulls me into a hug.
“I know it’s tough right now, but it will get better,” he murmurs as he brushes his hand over my hair.
“Will it? Really?” I whisper. “Because it doesn’t look like it’s gotten any better for you.”
“The pain lessens. It’s not as bad as the first week after Giulio’s death.”
I shake my head, not believing him. I saw his raw heartache at the restaurant. He’s lying to make me feel better.
“Once the bodies are ready to be buried, I’ll help you with the funeral arrangements,” he says.
“The funerals. Plural,” I correct him. “I have to bury Louisa and my dad.” My breathing hitches, and destructive emotions return with a force that knocks me off my feet.
I sway in Renzo’s hold before my legs go numb. His arms tighten around me, and a second later, I’m airborne as he picks me up.
My breathing hitches in my throat as painful sobs shudder from me.