“Where did you pick that up? The back of a motivational calendar?” He pushed himself to his feet, stumbling slightly as he did so. “Two negatives make a positive. Isn’t that what you once said to me? Every person who died tonight was a massive bloody positive.”
“What did you do?”
He made his way over to the cabinet, snatching up the whiskey and drank straight from the bottle. He closed his eyes tight, clenching his jaw as the liquid burned its way down his throat. He turned to me and raised the glass. “We stuffed these with tissue, set them alight, and threw them in every building. Anyone who came running out was shot on sight.”
“And how many innocents did you kill? How many old ladies or children were in those houses?”
He shrugged.
“Oh, you don’t care?” I stormed over to him and snatched his arm, forcing him to look at me. “What if they had been Bee’s age?”
“I did what needed to be done.” His entire face was blank, his eyes scarily calm. It unnerved me. How could someone be unaffected by the level of death and destruction he had just caused?
“And do you feel better?”
“I watched Crash rip the heart out of their president, so yeah… I feel fucking fantastic.”
“You killed the president?” I breathed, horror clamping around my heart. “You declared official war?”
“Brace yourself, Darlin’. This party is about to get a hell of a lot more interesting.”
“Okay, I’m not sure if you’re in shock or—”
“Shock?” He barked, throwing his head back with a laugh. “I fuckinglovedit, Rachel. If given half the chance, I’d do it again. What do you think happened to the men who didn’t die from the Molotov's or gunshots? Answer me!” He roared, spit hitting my face as he seized me by the shoulders and shook me. “What do you think I did to them?”
“Get. Your. Fucking. Hands. Off. Me,” I said, each word coming out clipped. The way he was manhandling me regardless of the burns that were still healing was evidence enough that he was too far gone to reason with.
“Answer me! What do you think I did to them?”
I remained silent, clamping my lips shut, refusing to give into his rage. “I killed them with my bare hands, Rachel. I sliced one man’s throat and ripped out his windpipe.”
“And why are you telling me this? Do you expect me to be impressed? Congratulations, Dante. You’re a mass murderer. I’ll be sure to send you a ‘well done’ card every anniversary of this date when they cart you off to prison.”
“I won’t be going to prison.” he rolled his eyes and shoved me away from him, snatching the bottle of whiskey back up.
“Yet. You won't be going to prisonyet. I can see right now you’ve bought a one-way ticket to the pity party. Oh no, poor Dante, he killed so many people. How terrible he must feel,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Can’t you see how stupid this all is?”
“Fuck off, Rachel. You knew what you were getting into.”
“Did I? Did I, really? Because as I recall, I wasn’t exactly given much fucking choice!”
He laughed at me then. Really laughed at me.
And then he marched forward, seizing the back of my neck and dragged me towards the front door, throwing it open with such force it bounced off the wall and back towards us, almost hitting us on the way out. He dragged me down the steps of the house and pushed me onto the grass. “No choice?” He roared. “No fucking choice? Did you, or did you not, stand in this very spot and agree to be my old lady?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off, grabbing my jaw between his hands. “Did I, or did I not, tell you that I was not a good fucking man? Did I not give you ample fucking warning of what life was like with me? Don’t play the kidnapping card, Rachel, because I have beennothingbut open and honest with you since then!”
His fingers squeezed so hard I felt blood seep on my tongue as my teeth cut into my inner cheeks. He glared down at me, his breathing heavy and his eyes wild. “Well?”
Don’t react, Rachel. Don’t make this worse.
Unfortunately, I was not the type of woman to listen to reason. I could feel the rage simmering inside me. Violence didn’t intimidate me. It ignited me. Enraged me. I could almost taste the venomous rage on my tongue, my blood burning so hot my skin flushed.
“This will be your last warning, Dante,” I said the best I could with the fierce grip he had on me. “Get. Your. Fucking. Hands. Off. Me.”
He squeezed tighter. And that’s when I lost it.
I stomped on his foot with every bit of strength I possessed. It wasn’t enough to hurt him, but it was enough to distract him so I could bring my knee up between his legs, delivering a powerful blow. He doubled over, loosening his grip on my jaw, and I twisted my head, clamping my teeth down on the fleshy skin between his thumb and index finger.