Page 90 of The Bonventi Secret
He pulls out a switchblade, and terror floods through me as he presses the cold blade against my cheek.
The knife bites into my skin, and I can't hold back a scream. Warm blood trickles down my face as he drags the blade slowly along my cheekbone. The pain is blinding.
"Stop!" I sob. "Please!"
His only response is to backhand me hard across the face. My vision swims from the force of the blow.
"Shut up," he hisses. "Or I'll cut out your fucking tongue."
He then runs the blade along my collarbone and cuts off my skull pendant necklace.
"No," I yell as I try to reach for it but with my tied hands.
I scream as he draws a thin line of blood. The pain is sharp, precise – nothing like the dull ache of his punches.
He hits me again, and my vision blurs. Each breath sends fire through my ribs. I'm fading in and out, the basement seeming to pulse around me.
At some point, I hear shouting in the distance. Gunshots echo, getting closer.
The man freezes, his head whipping toward the door. "What the fuck?"
More gunfire erupts, along with the sound of shattering glass. He scrambles off me, cursing.
I drift in and out of consciousness, my body on fire. The last thing I register is the basement door slamming shut and someone yelling.
LIVIA - 34
Consciousness flickers like a faulty lightbulb. One moment I'm lost in darkness, the next I'm aware of the burning in my cheek where he cut me and the swelling of my nose from when I hit the ground.
Sound comes and goes – distant gunfire, shouting, shattering glass, and loud thuds fill my ears over the constant ringing.
My head throbs, and the metallic taste of blood is all I can taste. I try to focus, shaking my head to remain awake, but the world drifts in and out.
I hear more gunshots, closer now.
Suddenly, the basement door slams open. Vinnie and the stocky prick who not only took my necklace but sliced and hit me burst in. Their faces are pale, eyes wild with panic.
"Fuck, they're here. Sammy, help me block the fucking door!" Vinnie shouts, his voice cracking with panic.
The gunfire is closer now, echoing through the halls like thunder.
"Fuck this," Sammy snarls. Instead of helping with the door, he grabs my hair, yanking me to my feet. Pain explodes through my battered body, and I can't hold back a cry.
"Shut up," Sammy yells, shaking me roughly. The room spins, and I nearly vomit.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Vinnie demands.
"Insurance," Sammy replies, dragging me in front of him. His arm wraps around my throat, choking me. I feel the cold press of a gun barrel against my temple. "They won't risk shooting her. Bitch is our ticket out of here."
I struggle weakly, but it's useless. My hands are still bound, and Sammy's grip is like iron. The zip ties dig into my wrists, reopening the cuts there.
"You idiot," Vinnie snarls. "The boss said?—"
Another explosion of gunfire, this time right outside the door. Both men flinch.
"Fuck the boss," Sammy says. "I'm getting out of here alive."
My heart pounds so hard I can barely hear anything else. Each breath feels like swallowing glass. But through the pain and fear, one thought burns clear:
