Page 32 of Secrets of the Six

"Give me a knife," Rafael commands, extending his hand to the side, keeping his gaze fixed on me.

My eyes widen when the second man pushes himself up from the wall he's been rooted to and stomps forward. He unsheathes a knife from a holster on his thigh and places the hilt in Rafael's palm. I expect him to retreat to his starting position, but instead, he stays where he is, running the tips of his fingers across his facial hair. I drag my gaze from his now empty hand up to his face. Though everything about his posture screams of his nonchalance in me being tortured, his eyes say otherwise. Perhaps he is squeamish because I'm a woman. If only he knew, if given the chance, I'd take the knife he just handed Rafael and slit his throat with it.

Rafael places the tip just above my knee.

Shit. His torture methods escalated quickly.

"Are you sure there's nothing you wish to tell me, Señorita?"

Panic trembles through me at the thought of his blade disappearing deep into my knee, but at this point, I can't tell him anything. Despite his lofty promise of keeping me safe and rewarding me for turning on Otero, I know men like him never honor their word. At the end of the day, I'm a loose end, and once he gets what he wants from me, he'll either torture me for sport until I expire or mercifully plunge his knife into my chest and dump my body into the sea.

I may be terrified, but I am no coward.

"I have nothing to say to you." I grit my teeth and prepare myself for the impact.

Instead of the blade sinking into my flesh, Rafael surprises me by cutting the bonds around my wrists, before slowly moving up to slice the one around my chest. He's toying with me. I'm just not sure why.

"Surprised to see I'm cutting you loose?" he asks, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he kneels before me.

I don't honor his question with a response, but I'm sure he can tell from just looking at me I'm indeed curious.

"I could slice you up and stain this floor with your blood, but those barbaric methods are far too gruesome and messy for my liking." He drags the knife past the slit of my dress exposing my thigh until he gets to the top of my knees and cuts the rope, quickly moving to my ankles, freeing me from the chair. "There are far easier ways to make you talk."

If I am to escape, this will be my only chance. I'm not sure where I am, but if I can pry the knife from Rafael's hand, I can kill them both and put this treacherous night behind me.

Curse my curiosity in following Salvador. He's probably tucked in his bed this very moment, blissfully unaware that my life and his rebellion are on the brink of extinction.

I use what little strength I have and kick Rafael square in his chest. I lunge for him as he falls and throw several well landed punches but my attempt to disarm him proves futile when his enormous henchman wraps his arms around me and pulls me off Rafael.

As the Don scowls and rises to his feet, I notice a trickle of blood ooze from his busted lip and a satisfied grin stretches taut across my face. I most certainly will pay for those blows momentarily, but at least I won't take this beating lying down.

"You have spunk," Rafael hisses. "Too bad your time has run out. I might have enjoyed your company."

"Save your flattery, pendejo." Asshole. I spit on the floor by his boots. "I have nothing to say to you."

He grabs a fist full of my hair, tearing me from his companion's arms, and drags me to the adjoining bathroom where a porcelain clawfoot tub filled with water awaits.

Rafael might not want to dirty his hands with my blood, but he has no qualms or hesitation in shoving my head beneath the ice-cold bathwater. All attempts at remaining calm end after thirty seconds of holding my breath. My lungs sting, as if they're on fire, and my need for air aches in my chest. Despite my flailing, Rafael shows no sign of letting me up anytime soon.

I claw at his fist entangled in my locks, but I am fighting a losing battle. Just as the lightheadedness begins to set in, he yanks me to the surface. I cough out water and gasp for air, but the time to catch my breath is far too short.

"Who do you work for? Give me a name and I'll make it all stop."

"I don't kno -"

The torture continues for several rounds. Each dunk seems longer and steadily becomes increasingly more painful. This time, when Rafael pulls me out of the water, he thrusts me backward and I fall to the slippery tile floor. My hair and the top of my dress are completely soaked and my face stings when air touches my skin; the frigid water akin to thousands of needles piercing my flesh.

Rafael, knife in hand, climbs on top of me and puts the tip of his blade between my breasts. "I admire your tenacity, but you are suffering for no reason," he coaxes. "I know you are tired and cold and most likely hungry. Give me the name of who sent you and all of this nastiness will end."

"Your words sound sweet, but I know a serpent when I see one."

With great speed, he presses the blade against my neck, his top lip curls in a snarl. This is the end. I feel it.

"Tell me who you are working for!" he screams.

Staring death in the face fills me with a boldness I've never known before. If I am to die, I will die with honor. "Go to hell."

I feel his knife pinching into my flesh and wince at the pain. "Last chance, Señorita."