Page 18 of Brutal Vows

I tremble as he lifts the butcher knife out of the fire. Fear sweat gathers on my chilled temple.

I choke on my scream as a line of white-hot agony spears across my lower back. Black dots swim in my vision, but closing my eyes means falling into darkness again, so I train my attention on the dancing blue flames above the burner. I sink my nails into my palms, desperate for a sliver of control, and heavebreath through my nostrils as the torn fabric of my bra bunches underneath me.

He lifts the blade and presses it an inch higher on my back.

Vomit climbs up my throat, but I swallow it along with my scream.

He twists the knife and presses the flat of the blade along the underside of my shoulder blade.

I curse my body’s natural reaction as tears drip across the bridge of my nose and puddle under my temple.

When he finally lifts the knife, I clench my teeth and wait for the deep, burning sensation of blisters forming on my back, but the blinding agony dulls to a weak pulsing.

I shift my gaze to his. The lazy tilt of his lips relays his amusement.

Humiliation spears through me as I realize he’s enjoying my plight.

“Fuck you, you sick fucker. Get off me,” I snarl.

I buck and fight as my emotions break through my defenses. Even though I’d die to protect my sister, his demeaning smirk reaches through the void swirling in my chest and crushes the broken little girl trapped in loneliness.

He pulls my head back, forcing my face toward the backsplash, and uses the sharp edge of the warm blade to trace the throbbing lines left behind.

Hot metal. Cold flesh. He knew it wouldn’t burn me.

“Vaffanculo!” I hiss and shove against the counter, preferring he stab me rather than humiliate me.

The knife clatters to the floor. The stove clicks off. Thick fingers draw designs around my aggravated skin. I struggle harder as he pinches and scratches the slightly raised, sensitive flesh.

“You’re not Julieta, are you,gattina?” he murmurs.

Terror steals my voice, and for a moment, I can’t move, but when the weight of his words settles into my psyche, I fight so hard my knees bang against the cabinets and the cuffs break the skin of my wrists.

“Let me go!” I shriek.

He leans over me and wraps his hand around my throat from behind. His drenched shirt brushes against my back before he settles his weight onto me. I struggle to breathe as he flattens me to the counter, stealing the oxygen from my lungs.

“Which Giordano twin are you?” he whispers in my ear.

I stop fighting and suck down a few stilted breaths before sneering through gritted teeth.

“Have you gotten stupider since the last time I saw you, or were you always this dumb?”

His chuckle vibrates through my entire body.

“Julieta would have squawked the second I turned on the stove. Did she rope you into doing her dirty work,gattina?”

“I’m not a kitten, and people change,testa di cazzo.”

I should back down. Simper. Cry. Beg him not to follow through on whatever promise he made to Julieta when he sent her rushing back to San Jose so many years ago.

But I can’t. I can’t act pathetic when his body squishes mine so deliciously against the counter. I can’t pretend to cower underneath him when he threatens to decimate the very core of my being. I can’t whimper and bat my eyelashes when all I want to do is melt into his touch.

“You’re right, people do change, but not this much,” he rumbles.

I scoff and say, “It’s been almost twenty years. I’m not the—”

He moves so fast my exhausted brain struggles to react, flipping me onto my back and wedging his hips between my knees as he pins me down by my throat.

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