Page 112 of Serpent & Saviors

“Kitten,” Alek warned.

He had to call her name several times and almost resorted to calling her Mischa. He got out the first half, and she turned angry eyes on him.

“I get my cut,” she roared, then added softer, “Tori promised me I could.”

“That I did,” I huffed from the safety of Andrew’s arms. He rubbed my back reassuringly.

“I’m proud of you. Go with Marcus now and he will take you and Kinsley to the car.”

Something in me once more shifted, and I became determined to draw blood from him. How many countless times had he made me bleed? The memories haunted me, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt he wouldn’t leave this basement breathing. This was my only chance. If Isabella could face her fear, so could I.

I turned a hopeful gaze to the man I loved. “Yes, Sir. May I have one cut?”

His brow furrowed sweetly, and he became pensive. When he spoke, it was Marcel, the Counselor. “I thought you said you didn’t want that?”

Ignoring him as if he hadn’t even spoken, Sebastian stepped forward. “She can use mine.” He pulled his knife free from the sheath and presented it to me.

I had to fight back a chuckle when Ivan thundered, “You will let her, Counselor.” He pushed his way over and crossed his arms.

Andrew sighed wearily, but he stepped back. “If you’re sure.”

Once more, Ivan spoke, this time directly to me. “You can do it, buttercup. Remember the areas I specifically taught you. Shoulder, or a joint will hurt but not cause him to bleed out,” he instructed.

I momentarily pretended we were at home in the practice room. I took Bash’s blade. He winked.

“Yes, Sir. What do you think about the Achilles tendon? It will make running hard.” I lifted my eyes to Ivan’s.

“I say that sounds painful,” he retorted.

I nodded and gulped. Was I really going to do this? I shook in anticipation, praying I wouldn’t chicken out and disappoint anyone. I wanted to be brave and strong, like Kinsley, like Isabella. I acknowledged that I still needed some work. An idea hit me. I touched Ivan’s tattoo.

“Will you hold his leg for me? I want to make sure I get it right.”

“I’d be honored, after you.” He gestured.

Cameron immediately started shaking his head and mumbled garbs of what I assumed were pleas, nothing intelligible. Ivan yanked his foot up. He was barefoot.

“Oops, that one has the monitor on it. Let’s get the other one.”

Cameron attempted to kick us. “Kinsley give me one of your heels, please,” I hissed, exasperated. “Someone here apparently cannot take his punishment properly.”

A tiny black heel sailed in our direction, and Ivan easily caught it. Swapping Bash’s knife for the shoe, I brought the sharp edge of the stiletto down on his right upper thigh, hard. He screamed in agony. I quickly dropped it and took the knife from Ivan and screamed in his face.

“Shut up, you stupid, pathetic, worthless animal.” The words damn near clawed their way out of my throat, each syllable laced with years of being under his control. “I hope you burn in hell for what you did to me. You are scum, a lousy fuck and you disgust me. I know you had something to do with killing my mother, which killed my grandmother, and you will suffer tonight.” My voice trembled, quivering like a fragile flower in a windstorm. But beneath the quaking, a strength and determination emerged.

With a flick of my wrist, the blade ran across the back of his ankle, severing the Achilles tendon. Sebastin’s knife was sharp enough that it nearly cut to the bone within seconds. His mouth opened, and a shriek of agony spilled forth, only to be drowned out by my next set of words.

“Look, Blade, it does hurt.” I laughed, my words sharper now, a little bit more like the knife I’d just used on him.

With each breath I took, the invisible shackles he once held around me crumbled. “I want you to know something. The Evan’s name dies tonight. Right this very moment, four tatted Russian men are taking care of your worthless mother and my piece of shit father. You can thank my girl Spring for that. All she had to do was place a call. Told you, you messed with the wrong crew. I hope you burn in hell for all of eternity.”

Tears streamed down my face as he sagged in the chair. All the fight in me was gone, and bile threatened to burst forth from my stomach. The scent of blood filled my nostrils, and I couldn’t take it. My eyes searched for refuge, and it appeared as if summoned.

“You did good, angel. Come on now.”

Andrew pulled me away, and I once more burrowed into him. Clawing at his T-shirt to get closer to his scent, to replace the smell of fear and death with something else. He cupped my face with one hand and leaned down.

I shivered at the feel of his breath on my skin. My hand dug into his thick hair, and his lips brushed against mine. My body jerked in reaction. I arched into him, desperate for the sensation that he and he alone gave me.