Page 82 of Power

I stepped forward and cleared my throat. “Let’s get on with this.”

My nod was decisive. Avra turned and offered me a grateful glance.

“Thank you, Leon,” Elias said.

I lifted my gaze to Avra’s. “Do you want to stay for this part?”

“No.” Avra shook her head.

Laya wrapped her arm around Nikolas’s. “We’re leaving too.”

I glanced at Calista, who had her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised.

“I’m staying,” she replied.

I expected nothing less from her.

At the doorway, Avra paused. “Leon?”

I replied, “Yes?”

“Make it hurt.”

With that, the sisters and their husbands filed out, boots echoing down the corridor, leaving only Cali and me amid the faint smell of antiseptic and something darker—fear, or perhaps the promise of blood. Cali drifted to a steel chair in the corner and sat, her attention fixated on the bound man’s chest rising and falling in spasms.

Xenos moaned, his voice thick with panic. I wondered what cyclone of dread tore through his mind, knowing the scalpel would soon carve into his flesh. I hoped he felt every second of it.

The scalpel lay among clamps and probes on the instrument tray beside the table, its blade gleaming. I picked it up, turned it toward the lamp, and watched the tip catch the light like a shard of ice.

I leaned in, letting the cold steel press against Xenos’s sternum. His chest quivered at the touch.

As I readied to make the first slice with the blade, I stopped and asked, “Darling, would you like to make the first cut?”

Joy erupted in her gaze, bright and feral. She bolted forward, her breath as quick as a child racing for ice cream, and snatched the scalpel from my hand. With a wild cry, she sliced deep into Xenos’s heaving chest.

Nineteen

CALISTA

ONE WEEK LATER

“Look up, please,” Sarah, the makeup artist I’d hired for our wedding, instructed me. I blinked against the soft light, revealing my sisters just behind her, their curious gazes scrutinizing her work with eager anticipation.

“Oh my God, give her some breathing room, please?” I urged with playful exasperation in my tone.

They exchanged glances, shoulders shrugging in unison as they settled onto the bed beside me. Avra offered a flute of champagne, a smirk on her lips.

Even now, moments before my wedding, they were bent on getting me tipsy. The thought of swaying down the aisle, tripping over my gown, sent a shiver of panic through me.

I took a tentative, small sip, the bubbly fizz tickling my nose, before setting it back on the table beside the makeup clutter.

“I can’t drink too much right now,” I admitted as nerves bubbled up. “Why am I so on edge? Is this normal?”

“Of course, it’s normal,” Laya assured me, a teasing grin spreading across her face. “You’re taking a big step.”

“I know that,” I replied, my heart thudding against my chest. “I also know Leon is the right man for me. So why the nerves? I wonder if Mama was this anxious.”

The mention of her name silenced us instantly, an invisible weight settling over the room.

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