A while later we came to a clearing. The brothers parked their bikes at the edge of the glade, and Acid cut the engine of the van. Colt and Knight ripped open the back doors of the vehicle and hauled Dante out by his arms, which were bound behind his back. A hood covered his head.
My torturer fell to the ground.
He’d once been formidable and terrifying. Now, his white silk shirt was stained with blood, the sleeves torn, and he was the one at our mercy.
Boxer walked toward Dante’s hooded form and gave him a boot to the ribs. Dante let out an enraged, surprised bellow.
Zip and Acid dragged Dante to his knees and ripped off his hood so Dante could finally see. Dante’s face was battered and bruised, his nose a jagged remnant of something that had once been handsome. It was shattered now.
But despite his situation, he smiled when he saw me.
“Princesa,” he greeted.
My heart drummed in my ears, and I was frozen to the spot.
Princess.
My blood stewed. Any fear or hesitation about what I was planning to do vanished with that single word.
The Blue Angels stood in a circle around Dante, but their eyes were on me. Their bodies were taut with tension, their fists clenched. I knew they wanted to mete out their own justice before ending Dante’s life, but they’d voted.
This was mine to do.
I set my shoulder bag onto the ground so I could pull out a small black pouch. I unzipped it to remove a syringe and a vial of clear liquid. Boxer came to my aid when he saw my struggle. He held the needle for me so I could pop off the cap before stabbing it in the rubber top on the glass vial. The syringe filled when I pulled back the plunger. I flipped the syringe over.
“Flick out the air bubbles,” I said quietly to Boxer.
Dante began to laugh. “What do you have there? Morphine?”
“Yes,” I lied.
“My little angel of mercy,” he crooned.
“Turnabout is fair play, don’t you think? You tortured me. They’re going to torture you.”
He began to fight against his ties, even though it was futile.
Boxer handed me the syringe and then marched forward to pummel a fist into Dante’s jaw. Dante’s face snapped to the side, and he groaned in pain.
“We can do this with or without the morphine,” I said to Dante. “They’ll rip you apart either way. Your choice.”
Dante spit blood onto the ground. No doubt Boxer had broken a few teeth with the force of his punch.
“Morphine,” Dante gritted out. “I’ll take the morphine.”
“So weak,” I tittered. “You almost take the fun out of breaking you.”
I looked down at the bag on the ground. Boxer immediately returned to me and leaned down to remove the band. He stalked back over to Dante and wrapped it around the upper part of his arm. A meaty vein popped from his flesh almost immediately.
My heart drummed in my chest as I stalked forward and stabbed the syringe into him, plunging the liquid into his vein. It took nearly thirty seconds for the potassium chloride injection to hit his system. His body seized and he gasped for air, but his heart wasn’t getting enough oxygen.
I wanted him to see me before he died, so I came around to face him. I smiled and said in Spanish, “Angel of mercy? Fuck you, I’m the Angel of Death. Enjoy hell, Dante.”
* * *
I stood at the edge of the lake and stared across its silverly, glittering surface. The afternoon sun rays bounced off the placid water, but I knew things lurked in the cool murky shadows beneath.
Everyone had left the cabins. Everyone except Boxer and me.