Page 66 of Unchained

His arm raises, and he points the gun directly at my chest. He isn’t the first man to do this, and sure as hell won’t be the last.

“Delete the picture, and we won’t have a problem. No one needs to get hurt.”

I laugh. “Are you sure there isn’t another way we could resolve this misunderstanding? You can pretend you never saw me do anything,” I purr.

He drags his lip between his teeth. Or, remaining teeth. He must be in his forties. Tattoos creep up his neck under his collar.

“For a slut like you, I’m sure I can think of a few things,” he mutters.

“A slut like me,” I repeat, taking a step closer.

Just like my father spat at me on my wedding day about my dress. Telling me what to wear. How to behave. When to have sex. Never to cry. Always to fight. It’s always a damn man.

His hand clamps over his crotch, and he shifts. “Hmm. Yes. You’d be a good fuck.”

And this is why men will never win. Distracted by a bit of boob and the thought of sex. As soon as he glances at my tits again, I grab hold of his wrist and smash the gun out of his hand, letting it clatter against the floor. I need that piece, as it’s got a silencer on it.

Then I drive my blade through his gut.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pushing me back against the wall. His hand locks around my throat, and I see red.

Worse than red. I see death.

I kick this asshole so hard in the balls, forcing him to stumble backward, and I rip my blade out of him. I don’t give him a chance to catch his breath; I smash my fist, covered in rings, into his jaw. I have a lot of rage to let out, and he becomes my perfect punch bag.

When he pathetically swings, I duck out of the way and jab him in the knife wound, giving me a window of opportunity to snatch his gun from the floor while he cries out in agony. Pussy.

“Now the roles have reversed into the correct position; you can tell me who the fuck you work for,” I seethe, blowing my hair from my face.

“Nikos. We work for Nikos Kourakos, and if you pull that trigger, he will skin you alive. Trust me, little girl.”

I nod slowly, as if I’m contemplating his threat. When in reality, I’m admiring the silencer on this Glock. Perfect for a busy restaurant.

“What do you think Nikos would do to me if I killed everyone who works for him? All those men in the kitchen earlier?”

He erupts into laughter, clutching at his stomach. “He’d send thirty men to rape you, torture you, and then he’d send body parts to your family. Piece by piece, until you finally die with tears streaming down your beautiful face.”

I smile. “Aw. That’s very kind of you.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Colten

I stub out my cigarette under my sneaker and check my watch. Five minutes. That's too long in my book. I head back in through the back exit. My blood turns to ice when the crack of a gunshot goes off.

I pull out my own piece tucked in the back of my shorts, sprint towards the women's bathrooms, and kick the door open.

Blood splatters up the white tiles and the room tilts around me.

“Gianna!” I shout.

For a split second, the worst-case scenario makes me feel physically sick. I don’t have time to rationalize why losing my wife would be one of the worst things to ever happen to me.

A man groans as I turn the corner, slumped on the floor, clutching his side. Crimson pours from his gut through his fingers. “Please!” he croaks.

“Shut up,” Gianna hisses, kicking her heel right into his chest.

She grabs him by the hair and slams his face into the tiles, making him truly stop talking this time. “There, more teeth missing, no one would even notice,” she mumbles, kicking him one more time.