One of my guard’s shoves her forward and she falls on her knees, yelping.
She struggles to get up, so I yank her up by the hair, dragging her to the bathroom only a few steps away.
“Let go of me!” she screams.
I force her down in the chair placed in the middle of the bathroom and she breathes raggedly, looking up at me.
“I hate you!” she roars and then spits at my feet. “You think you’re something? Let me tell you right now, Draco, you are nothing. You never have been anything! You’re not important! I’m not afraid of you!”
I lift my chin. “Is that so?”
She swallows hard, her eyes focused on me, trying to catch my eyes.
I walk around the chair, stepping behind her, looking at her reflection in the mirror. She doesn’t take her eyes off me.
“I’ve thought of all the possible ways to kill you,” I murmur. “I couldn’t decide on what I wanted more. To torture you, drag it out, and waste my time. Or to make it quick and simple, the same way you did my cousin.” I slip a pair of gloves on both hands. “After letting Gianna toy with you a bit, I finally figured out the perfect solution.”
I pull a pocketknife with a black handle out of my back pocket, studying the handle with my father’s initials on it.
I then lower my arm and yank her up, wrapping my arm around her midsection, holding her body close to mine, and inhaling the filthy scent of despair, terror, and greed.
“You were always trash to me, Yessica. You know that? I never cared about you. You were just an easy fuck, fun to punish, and nothing more.” I grip her tight, squeezing her body with one arm, the cold, hard pocketknife in my right hand.
“That’s a lie. You love me. I know you do,” she pants. She’s working harder to breathe.
“You think so?”
“Yes. You always fucked me like you loved me,” she answers, confident. Too fucking bold.
“Do you feel breathless?” I ask.
She frowns at the reflection.
“Do you like my body on yours?”
When I ask that, she bobs her head.
“Speak,” I demand.
She tries too, but she’s unable. Words try to spill out, but they’re stuck. All I hear are moans and whimpers.
Her eyes get bigger and soon, her body goes limp in my arms. Her head falls back, but her eyes are still on my reflection.
“Do you know what’s happening to you right now?” I run my fingers down her arms, caressing her flushed skin. She watches my hand, like she loves it, like it’s all she’s ever wanted. My touch. Me. “You are paralyzed, but you can feel every single thing I do to you. Your nerves are just fine, and your eyes see all, but everything else inside you has completely shut down.” Her chin wobbles.
“There are these flowers that I am so fascinated with called Death by Indigo. At first I hated them and what they could have done to me, but they intrigued me later on because they made a point—had a purpose. Because they are just as dangerous as I am. That meal you ate,” I whisper in her ear, grinning, “had the ground powder of that poisonous flower all over it. You were so hungry you couldn’t even taste it, could you?”
She tries to speak—to move. She’s frozen.
“You know something?” I clutch the handle of my knife again. “You were wrong about what you said before.” I bring the knife up to her throat, looking at her reflection through the mirror, deep into her eyes. “When I fucked you, I fucked you like I hated you, because I will always fucking hate you. As soon as I end you, it will be like you never even existed, and I’ll be living my life the same as before. The Jefe. The deadliest, most powerful motherfucker in the world.”
After my final words are laid out, I slide the thin blade of the knife across the middle of her throat, slicing deep. My teeth grit as I spin her around, forcing her to look me in the eyes.
Her arms fidget like she’s trying to reach up and grab for her throat, but I push her up against the counter, dropping the knife and wrapping my hands around her neck.
My thumbs press into the slit, squeezing, forcing the blood to spill faster. It cascades, spilling on her chest and on my shirt.
“I never loved you,” I murmur in her ear, “but I will always love her. She is mi reina—my future—and you can rot and sulk in hell knowing that.”
Blood gushes out of her mouth, and she chokes on the thick, dark red flood leaving her body, trying to move, begging for mercy with her eyes alone.
But there is no mercy.
This is for Thiago.
This is for Emilio.