39
JESSA
The knife is cutting into my back. I can feel the warm trickle of blood beading on my skin.
“It doesn’t have to be like this, Marina,” I say.
She sets the gun down at her side. Because apparently, we’re just two women having a conversation now. She doesn’t see me as a threat.
“If you stop this now, you might have a chance to live,” I add.
She scoffs. “You really don’t know shit about him, do you? He’d never let me live now. That’s why I know we’re doomed as a couple. I played my hand and he played his. There’s no going back now. And why would I want to? My plan is working out perfectly.”
“You’re not doing any of this alone, are you?”
“I’ve had support,” she says. “Every don needs her Vors.”
“How many men did you fuck to do this?” I snarl at her.
She smiles. “Just one.”
If that really is the truth, then she’s more talented than I’ve given her credit for. But it’s not like I can trust a single word that comes out of her mouth.
“How did you manage to get in here?”
She smiles. “Haven’t pieced it together yet, have you? I expected Anton to choose smarter, but it’s not like he was planning on keeping you around.”
“You don’t know anything about what he wants,” I grit out.
She raises her eyebrows and gives me a smile. “And I’ll bet you do?”
“I do, actually,” I say. “I know that he thinks I’m strong and capable and more than a match for you.”
“Is that what he told you?”
“It’s exactly what he told me,” I say. “And what he showed me. He wanted me to be protected, and he knew I’d be able to do it myself.”
In one fluid movement, I yank the knife out of my pants and slash my arm towards her. I move with all the confidence that Anton seemed sure I had.
But Marina anticipates the move. She lurches backward, falling off the window seat and dropping to the floor. But I feel some resistance against my blade.
When I look down, I realize that I’ve missed her neck entirely. But I managed to catch her face. Just barely. There’s a thin cut across her right cheek. The line bleeds red and gives her already sinister appearance an extra edge.
She looks furious. More so because her gun has fallen to the ground, inches from my feet. Instead of picking it up, I kick it hard to the side. It twirls under the bed and out of sight.
“You fucking bitch,” she snarls. “You’re going to regret that.”
“Do you like my knife?” I taunt, holding it up a little so that she can see the hilt and the blade. “Anton got it custom-made for me.”
“Don’t you fucking smile at me, you cunt,” she snarls. “That gift means nothing.”
“Then why do you look so threatened?”
Her lip curls. “I am going to carve out your tongue first,” she hisses at me. “I’ll use that precious dagger you’re holding. Then I’ll take your eyes. But don’t worry, you won’t miss a thing. I’ll make sure you’re alive through all of it.”
“You don’t think I’m going to fight you?” I ask. “Of the two of us, which one is bleeding?”
Apparently, she hasn’t realized yet that she’s cut. Her fingers tremble up to her cheek and she touches the blood there.