Page 68 of Inferno

A sly smile erupts on his face.

“You smell of sex, baby. There is one way this can all go away. I will keep quiet and kill the mark, your identity never revealed.”

My heart accelerates as he says the word “kill” so flippantly.

I remain still, assessing my options. There has to be another way. Fight, Charlotte.

“How's that then?” I question, tilting my head, reminding him I do not fear him.

He slumps back on his seat and taps his lap.

“Easy. Ride my fat dick, baby. Show me what you gave this asshole.” He points at the still of Jimmy filling the screen.

Even like that, he makes my heart race. He doesn’t deserve this. Not because of me and this bastard family.

“Oh, yeah? Is that all it would take?” I twirl my hair around my index finger and bat my lashes.

A growl erupts from Misha’s chest as he swipes his greasy hair back from his face.

“God, I’ve wanted a taste of you for a long time.”

With a slow step forward, I slide one strap of my cami down my shoulder. He spreads his legs and I shake my head.

Placing my hand on his thigh, I lean in and whisper, “If you want me to ride you, I have to straddle you.” I pull back and bite my lip. The hunger in his eyes is repulsing me, but I keep this show up. He leans back and starts to unbuckle his belt.

I take a breath, trying to calm my erratic heart. He cannot lock on to my plan. Just as he’s whipping his dick out, I grab the knife from the stand. He looks up, and I don’t hesitate.

I drive that blade in the right side of his neck. Level with his Adam’s apple, hoping I hit the right spot.

He jolts forward, his eyes bulging out of his head and mouth dropping, and right on cue, the blood rapidly spurts out of his neck.

He grabs hold of the handle, the crimson pouring through his fingers as he drops to the floor.

I step back and watch him bleed out. It happens so fast, the blood spilling over the white floor.

He tries to take a breath but gurgles, his eyes going wide, staring right at me. I can’t move. I don’t want to.

When he starts to wobble as his body goes limp, and all the color drains from him, I jump back when he falls face first on the tiles.

Fuck.

With shaking hands, I grab my phone out of my jean pocket and tighten my grip on the knife with the other. Calling the only person in the world who can help me.

The moment of truth about where he aligns.

I hit dial, and he answers on the first ring.

“Charlotte?” Concern is clear in Drago’s deep voice.

I suck in a shaky breath, him being on the line calming my rapid heart.

“We have a problem. A big one.”

“Let me check the line.”

I hear a couple of clicks and he’s back.

“It’s Misha, he’s dead.”

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