So, I took the knife, the slim metal not as heavy as I thought it would be. My palms were sweaty as I gripped it tightly, searching for the way I wanted to attack him.
One shot.
That was all I would get.
It had to be the right one.
When I started toward him, Gavril’s eyes widened as if he expected me to fall apart and throw the knife on the floor. My heart thundered against my rib cage. With each boom-doom of my heart, my anger grew. I thought about what he would have done to Sveta, to me.
He might not realize that he had the wrong woman. But he was going to pay a price for it.
With a snarl I launched at his chest, the knife primed and ready to plunge into his black heart.