Their backs to me, four men surrounded Gianna. Too busy pawing her, they didn’t hear my approach. “What’s so special about you, bitch.” The tallest slapped her across the cheek. Her head snapping to the side, she cried out, simmering the intensity of my blood.
Then she saw me, and her tear-filled eyes widened a fraction before I had the first man in a chokehold. In the time it took me to break his neck, his body to fall and my hand closing around the neck of a second man, fingers digging deep enough to feel his larynx, the other two turned.
“Who the fuck are you?” the tallest shouted, his thick whiskers making his words sound raspy.
“Fuck!” the shorter one nudged his friend. “That’s Salvatore.”
“So. He doesn’t look like no devil,” the fucker snorted, his spit hitting my shoes. I figured he was new to the Mendez cartel. All the Mendez men knew me. They’d had more than their share of run-ins to fear me. He tossed a knife from hand to hand, his eyes raking a dirty look the length of my body
“Fuck, no,” his friend paled.
I cocked a brow, ripping the throat of the guy I was still holding. Blood sprayed from the tear as he sank to the floor. Gianna let out a sharp scream her hands cupping her face, her eyes riveted on the man’s twitching body. The two fuckers blocking her from me, looked at each other then at me before they charged. I dodged both, coming up behind them. One hand palming his chin the other on the top of his head, I twisted, cracking the neck of the shorter guy. As he went down, I pivoted, my left leg flying up, swift and accurate, catching the other fuck in the jaw with the back of my shoe. He fell, his knife clattering to the floor.
Dropping to my haunches, I picked up his knife. My eyes on him, I twirled the pointed tip on the pad of my forefinger. His hand on his jaw, his eyes flared as I leaned closer. “Your spit is not worthy of my shoes, bitch.” I sneered.
He had only a moment’s notice of my action before I lifted the knife and drove down into his open mouth. Bone snapped and blood gurgled out of his mouth, his eyes round globes of shock.
Straightening, I turned to look at Gianna. She was shaking. Fear-ridden eyes lifted to meet mine. I held out a hand. “Let’s go.”
Slowly, she shook her head, shrinking back. “Get away from me,” the shaky words slipped past trembling lips.
I lowered my hand and took a step forward. She flattened herself against the wall like it could hide her from me then without warning, she shot past me. Letting out a frustrated curse, I gave chase.
28
Gianna (18 years)
I’d seen Zayne kill, but he had nothing on the viciousness of Salvatore’s savagery. While trapped, I’d preferred Salvatore’s brand of evil to the men he’d just killed with his bare hands. However, tearing through them as though they were clay models, instilled a fear so deep, I could barely breathe. There was no way I was marrying him. Not giving any thought to my action, I ran. If I could get to a phone, I’d call Zayne. Beg him to come get me, not caring that he’d used me to get to my father. Then I thought of him killing Ishara, Harsh, and Bhavna and I stumbled, my steps wavering. That cost me.
Glancing over my shoulder, I caught sight of Salvatore. There weren’t many people on the streets which made it harder to zip into a store. Not wanting to put someone in harm’s way given Salvatore’s wrath, I didn’t dare stop to ask for help. I picked up speed, running as fast as my legs would let me but he was faster.
Just as I shot into an alleyway, his strong hand wrapped around my elbow, yanking me back, and I yelped when my body crashed into his. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
“Let me go.” Breathing hard, I squirmed against his grip. “You’re a madman.”
Salvatore’s cruel fingers bit deeper into my flesh, shaking me until I was looking at him. “And you fucking think those men were any better?” he hissed, running a finger across the probable bruise left by the other man’s slap.
