Shattered Prince

The elevator doors opened and I stalked out, hoping to make it to my room before he said something, but it wasn’t meant to be.

“We gotta talk,” he barked at me. “Get the fuck back here.”

I hesitated in the hallway. That was my mistake. I should’ve run then and there and locked the door. He wouldn’t dare break it down. Carmine would notice that.

But I gave him the opportunity to catch up and grab my wrist. I glared as he yanked me back into the kitchen and practically threw me up against the counter. He paced back and forth, his hands tugging at his shirt, smoothing it out, fastening and unfastening the bottom button.

“You haven’t earned for me yet,” he said, staring at the floor. He looked high or strung out or maybe a little bit of both. I didn’t realize Oscar was into drugs, but it was possible. Drugs were plentiful and easy to get back at my father’s mansion. There was a reason I had a steady supply of pills to keep my leg numb and my head happy.

“What are you talking about?”

“I told you to get something for me. Cash, information. Something. You haven’t done shit.” He turned and ripped a knife from the block next to the refrigerator. It was a new boning knife, thin and flexible and extremely sharp. The metal caught the light and glinted as Oscar’s lips pulled back.

I took a step away, leaning against the counter.

“What are you doing?”

“You haven’t earned, bitch. I just said so. You haven’t earned and now I gotta punish you.”

“Oscar, wait—” Panic rushed through me. Where was Carmine? Somewhere else? Hunting down Harry’s killers while I was left alone with my demon?

Oscar strode over. I tried to get away but he grabbed me and threw me hard into the cabinets. I grunted and coughed as he punched me in the stomach. He ripped my skirt up, showing my panties, and I screamed. He’d never done something like this before. There’d been some slaps, some hits, but nothing like this.

He pressed the blade of his knife against the skin of my upper thigh and held it there. His breath reeked of rotten meat and phlegm. His teeth were yellow and veins popped out of his neck and forehead.

“Let me remind you about something,” he whispered, so close. The knife was freezing against my skin. “I fucking own you, little bitch. I know what you did. I know what you are. You’re a murderer. You’re a thief. You betrayed your father and killed my brother.”

“Let me go.” My heart raced. My head was dizzy. I could barely move. I was terrified he’d stab the knife into my body and catch an artery. Then I’d bleed out on the floor.

At least I wouldn’t die a virgin. Even now, in a life-or-death situation, I thought about Carmine.

“A lesson first.” He ripped the knife sideways. It bit into skin and I let out a strangled gasp. It hurt like hell and he grinned at me before putting the knife an inch down. He cut again and I struggled, trying to kick him away, but he raised the bloody blade to my throat. “You will earn, bitch. I need cash and I need it right now. Do you hear me? Find where Carmine keeps his money and bring me some. No more fucking watches. I need money.”

“I will,” I said, gasping for breath and trying to focus through the pain and fear. “I’ll get you whatever you want.”

He put the knife down and cut me again. I screamed, struggled, and he shoved me back. He cut me a fourth time, deeper than the others, and let me go. He stepped back and I moaned, covering the wounds with my hand. Blood seeped between my fingers and rolled down my light brown skin. It dripped onto the gray floor tiles in small splatters.

I stared at the blood.

This was too far. It was way too far. Oscar had done some terrible things to me in the past, but he’d never cut me before. The bastard was smart—he did it in a spot where it wouldn’t be obvious. Except he didn’t know Carmine was regularly going down on me, and he’d see the wounds, and I’d have to tell him—what could I say? The truth? Some new lie?

Pain ached through my leg. Pain, both sharp and dull. Oscar threw the knife into the sink, still grinning, and wiped his hands on his pants.

“Now, little bitch. Are you ready to—”

I ran at him. I threw myself across the room and slammed my shoulder as hard as I could into his gut. He gasped in surprise and I whipped my arm up and slammed my knuckles into his throat. It wasn’t quite a punch and it wasn’t all that hard, but he gasped and gagged as I shoved past and sprinted for the elevator.