She didn’t flinch or blink, just stepped closer to him.
“Please,” he begged. “Tell him to stop. You can stop this. You’re not like him.”
She tilted her head, studying Dorian like she didn’t know who he was. “You’re right,” she said. “I’m not like him and I sure as hell am not like you. I don’t destroy those I claim to love. And while I can stop this, I won’t. You took everything from me! I can’t be a mother because of you! I can’t sleep at night because of you! I can’t be me because of you! You deserve every fucking thing that’s coming to you. Fuck you, Dorian. And I hope you rot in hell.”
She looked over her shoulder, tears, and anger filling her eyes as she nodded. No words or commands, just a quiet, final nod.
I crossed the space between us with blade already in hand, already full of rage. Dorian’s voice cracked into pleas, but I didn’t hear them. All I heard was the echo of her words. She can’t have children because of him. She can’t sleep because of him. So, when she begged for mercy, he gave her none and now, I’d give him the same courteous.
No mercy.
The first cut was deliberate. Shoulder to hip, a diagonal slash I carved into his flesh so deep you could see the muscle as his skin peeled away. He screamed as tears streamed down his face. But none of that fazed me. I thought of all the times she pleaded and begged for him to stop. I thought about how she looked when I found her after one of his beatings. The rapes she endured. The mental and physical torture she endured all because of this motherfucker. What he would experience today wouldn’t be enough to make up for all that he had done to her, but hopefully she’d get some satisfaction from his pain.
“You don’t get to die easy,” I said, my breath hot against his ear. “You don’t get to leave this world without experiencing half of what you put her through.”
I slashed across his chest again like I was tearing through the thinnest fabric. The blade caught ribs, skipped over bone, and left a jagged mess of blood and torn muscle. He howled in pain, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t even aim. I wasn’t trying to make it clean. I just wanted him to suffer. Then I moved to his face. Other than his dick, this was his pride and joy.
I dragged the blade from cheek to jaw, deep, splitting the skin like a piece of overripe fruit. His flesh peeled back in ribbons, the edge of the blade catching just beneath his eye and filleting downward until his scream turned wet. His blood sprayed across my arm, warm and fast, and I didn’t flinch. I didn’t even blink.
I moved to his thigh this time. The blade slashed so deep it hit his femoral artery. A garbled sound escaped his lips, a mixture of a scream and a plea, but it was useless. I wanted Seraphina to hear and see what his death looked like. I wanted her to see what loyalty looked like.
His body swayed, barely hanging onto life. Blood pooled at his feet. His head lolled to the side, like he was trying to escape what was coming next. I didn’t let him. I grabbed his jaw, fingers digging into the deep cuts, forcing his gaze toward her.
“She’s watching,” I murmured. “She’s watching the man she loves kill the one she hates.”
His eyes fluttered, unfocused, but I saw the flicker of recognition. I carved a line beneath his eye. Not deep. Just enough to sting. Just enough to mark him.
“You taught her how to hate,” I said, my voice thick with satisfaction. “I taught her how to love.”
Then I drove the blade into his stomach, twisted it, then yanked it free.
“You hear that?” I glanced back at her. “That’s the sound of your freedom, baby.”
I stabbed him again.
And again.
And again.
The blade sank into muscle, slid between ribs, struck bone. Each thrust was messier than the last. His body jerked, spasming with every impact, blood gushing in bursts that soaked my hands, my chest, and the floor beneath him.
He tried to scream, but it came out as a gurgle like his lungs were filling faster than he could empty them. His eyes rolled back. His mouth opened, slack and trembling, but no words came. Just gasps and blood. But I kept going. His grunts turned to gasps. And even when his gasps became silent, I still drove the blade into his body, until there was no resistance. Until his body stopped twitching. That’s when I stopped.
I looked at her, and her eyes were wide like she couldn’t believe it was over or maybe my brutality shocked her. However, she needed to know this was what I did to motherfuckers who fucked with the woman I loved.
I tossed the knife at his feet, wiped the blood off my hands and arms as best I could, then I walked closer to her. And when I stood in front of her, I blocked her view of his body.
“It’s over now. You have nothing to worry about anymore.”
Chapter Thirty
Seraphina
One Week Later…
“Why did he want to see me?”
I clung to Sergio’s arm, as we walked behind Lorenzo and Finley along a short dock until we reached a narrow stone archway carved into the cliffside. You could hardly see it because it was partially hidden by bougainvillea and shadows. There wasn’t any sign that said where we were, just a brass bell and a man in white linen watching us approach.
