Page 78 of My Solemn Vow
No. As I meet his gaze, something between us changes. It’s less like judgment and a test to see if I’m fit for this and more like concern for my well-being. It feels like approval.
Before I overthink it, I step past Valor and look Marc in the eye. The one that Valor hit is swelling up so much that it’s hardly open.
“Fuck you, Marc.”
I thrust forward, twisting and correctly intensifying the force until my knuckles slam into his chest. Air escapes his lungs, and Marc sputters and gasps. I hit him again in a different spot. The knuckles are denting his shirt, leaving red marks on the white cotton where I puncture his skin.
Relief floods through my body. Vengeance feels so much better than I imagined. A weight slowly rises from the bottoms of my feet, pulling upward, and I want a little more violence. I need to let a little more of this rage go.
“You’re done with him?” I confirm without looking at Valor. If I look at him, I might lose my nerve.
“Yeah. We have his phone and books. Royal can figure out anything he didn’t tell us.” Valor sounds almost bored.
“I told you everything,” Marc gasps, his head falling forward. He wheezes before pleading. “Let me go. I’ll leave. I won’t come back this time.”
“Let you go?” My rage sours the happy feeling of vengeance. I grab hold of his hair, yanking on the strands. I try to keep my voice calm, make him understand how ridiculous he sounds. “You don’t get a choice in this any more than I got a choice in you filming me. Filming us.”
It’s easier than I thought to ram the brass knuckles into his head. The sharp tines poke into both of his eyes. He screams and gargles. I hit him again and again. The crunch of bone turns soft as I start panting with the exertion.
“Antonella,” Valor calls, forcing my focus off Marc. “That won’t kill him. You’re just burning energy, darling. Step back and let him bleed into his lungs and drown, or use this.”
I look away from Marc and the pathetic lump of his body to Valor. He’s holding out a pocketknife I don’t remember seeing on the table, nor have I noticed it lying out with his wallet in the bathroom where he changes pants.
But when I look at that knife, I know I can’t use it. Hitting him is one thing.
But that... that I can’t do. I’m weak. Too weak to kill him. The self-deprecation sinks in.Too weak because I’m a woman, because Gregorio is right, women have no place in this world, and because if I can’t kill someone who hurt me, how could I have ever expected to stand next to Berto to kill for him?
Tears well in my eyes, and the thundering of my heartbeat in my ears mixes with a deafening whine of tinnitus. I shake my head.
“You’re brilliant, darling. Beautiful as you strike. It’s okay to not be able to do this.” Valor steps forward, and I move out of his way.
I close my eyes to avoid seeing what I can’t hear over the noise in my head.
Marc’s death doesn’t absolve him of all the shit he’s done, no more than it erases the memory of the videos from the boys’ brains he sent them to. But there is peace in him being gone for good. That peace has me opening my eyes to see the proof in his limp body.
Valor steps between me and the corpse. His touch is gentleas he unwraps my hand from the brass knuckles, and it settles me. The tinnitus and hammering of my heart relax, leaving me with a ghost of a headache.
He raises his free hand to wipe at blood or tears on my cheeks. “I’ll be right back. Close your eyes and don’t open them.”
I trust him, letting my eyes fall closed without any objection. Valor’s footsteps set a hurried pace across the floor. The door on the other side of the room flaps open and closed. Then two sets of footsteps return.
My body involuntarily jumps as a hand touches my shoulder.
Valor comforts me with kind words, but his hand falls away from my arm. “Easy. Turn toward the exit to the house.”
I do as he says, and when I’m facing the opposite direction, I open my eyes to walk around the table and stand with the monitor toward the door. Valor is right on my tail the entire way. He opens and closes doors for me until we’re finally back in the gym.
“It never gets less amusing. Gavin can’t watch me torture someone but has no problem cleaning up my messes.” Valor looks at me as he walks backward through the gym and into the hallway without touching me. It’s casual, almost small talk.
He leads the way back upstairs to the kitchen. It’s like a world away from the basement. The sun is still shining, and the house is warm and bright.
“Can you check your bread? We’re early, but I think you’ll want to shower,” Valor says, walking to the counter where I left the dough to rise.
I nod and do as he asks. The dough is almost proofed the entire way. “If I hurry, I can shower and get down here before it’s ready.”
“No,” Valor commands, and he’s firm. “Tell me what to do and take your time cleaning up.”
“Pull the cover back and poke the loaf. If the indent stays, it’sready. If not, re-cover it. If it stays, put it in the loaf pan I already buttered and put it in the oven. It bakes for thirty minutes.” I try to keep the instructions clear and concise.
