Emilio lifts the knife, turns it in his hand, and holds it out to me like an offering.
When I don’t reach for it, he clamps his strong arm around my elbow to drag me off the couch. His hand slides down my arm until it finds mine.
“Stop it,” I say, fighting against him as he forces my fingers around the knife handle.
Both of our hands are on the knife, and he raises it to his throat. It brushes along his Adam’s apple, and in my mind, I’m imagining one wrong move, and we’ll slit his carotid artery.
“Do it,” he snarls, pushing the blade into his neck. “Do what your brother is too spineless to do himself.”
Pain shoots through my arm as I try to break free.
He outpowers me in every single way.
I lock my elbow, trying to get some control.
“Come on,” he taunts. “Make your family proud,guaio. Kill me so they can pass you off to the next bidder.”
I halt, the truth in his words a slap in the face.
I stumble forward when he releases the blade from his throat. I suck in a breath of relief, but that’s only temporary.
He captures me from behind, shoving me against his chest, and I cry out when he lowers the knife to my throat. I shudder at the cold, sharp metal against my sensitive skin. I jerk back when he nicks me with the blade.
“Let me go,” I say, struggling to break free.
“Maybe I should kill you instead.”
He slowly drags the blade along my throat. The pressure is light as a feather, and all I can think about is how close I am to being dead.
As if to further antagonize me, he rests his chin on my shoulder and bites into my neck,so closeto where the blade is.
“You said vows you never planned to keep,” he says into my ear, his tone so sinister that chills spread through my body. “Now is the time for that death to part us.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the blood to flood from my throat.
He digs the blade in deeper, and I hiss in pain.
Tears hit my eyes, and I squeeze them shut.
Do not die crying, Liliya.
I betrayed him, and just like in any story of betrayal, someone must die.
It was clear that the chance of survival wasn’t in my favor to begin with.
He keeps the knife to my throat forone second, two, three …all the way to ten before lowering it. He shoves me forward, but I don’t get the chance to flee before he catches my wrist and spins me to face him.
Our eyes meet like a fatal attraction.
I stare at him, terrified.
He stares back, menacing.
Only inches separate me from my murderous husband holding a knife.
Regret washes over me. He gave me plenty of chances to kill him, and I didn’t take them. This is onme.
His strong chest rises and falls with harsh breaths while he clutches the knife. His knuckles hold it so tight that they’re turning white as he stares me down.
