Page 181 of Fatality

With a deep breath and a twisted sense of determination, I sink the sharp edge into his flesh and start cutting through it.

The flesh is pretty easy to cut through, that's some damn good knife she bought.

But when I will reach the bone part, I know it won't be as simple.

I might have to break it.

He screams in pain, trying desperately to move away from me.

“Stop! Please stop!”

He screams, his struggles start to weaken by the blood loss and the pain of being cut.

“Stop moving or it won't be clean.”

I growl at him, refusing to let up on my grip on his wrist.

I continue to cut through his wrist, his pleas to make me stop doesn’t sink in, doesn’t even reach me.

With each slice, blood spurts from the flesh like a fountain.

The wet sound of the knife gliding into his skin is a grotesque symphony, an awful melody for anyone sensitive to such brutality.

But I'm used to it, desensitized by my countless encounters with violence and pain. Tenderness has no place in situations like these, where every cut, every slice deserves nothing but cold efficiency.

I'm almost at the bone now, and as the flesh becomes tougher to penetrate, my focus intensifies.

My determination to make him pay remains, fueling my resolve to see this motherfucker pay for even fucking thought of ending her.

A heavy clang explodes beside my head.

My vision jolts sideways, and my grip on the knife loosens.

“What the fuck are you doing, Evren?!” Riven shouts.

I slowly turn toward her. The pain dampeners kick in almost immediately.

She's standing there, gripping a frying pan with both hands, chest heaving.

She hit me, with a fucking pan.

“Riven,” I say quietly. “I think it’s obvious what I was doing. You got a problem with that?"

“I have a problem with you cutting his hand off on my counter!” she snarls, her voice ragged and hoarse. “Like a fucking psychopath!”

My eyes drift to her neck, the bruises are already blooming.

Dark and angry. The unmistakable shape of his fingers stands out against her skin.

My jaw tightens.

“Why? Would you rather have me take it outside?”

I tilt my head, a crooked half-smile tugging at my lips.

But underneath it, I'm holding on by a thread, trying to keep myself under control.

But when I see her eyes, full of hate and reckoning, the bruises blooming across her delicate neck.