Page 50 of Cain

He marches toward me again, seizing my wrist in a firm grip and yanking me closer. My body locks up, rigid with fear, and I flinch. He pries my fingers apart, forcing my palm open, then shoves the knife into it. His eyes burn into mine, unyielding.

“Go on,” he murmurs, his voice low and guttural. “Cut me like I cut you. Show me you’re not weak.”

My eyes widen. “What? Are you insane?”

He grips my arms and pulls me closer until my body collides with his. “You want out? Here’s your chance. Fight your way out.”

My heart races, my breath shallow. He releases his grip on me, and I stumble back, my legs shaking.

He sinks into the armchair with a quiet, satisfied grunt, his eyes locked on mine, daring me to make a move. “Kneel and do it.”

Does hereallywant me to cut him?

I stare at the knife, my knuckles white from how hard I’m gripping it. My eyes flick to him, then back to the blade. I could do it. I could end it now.

I step closer, my breath ragged. My knees meet the ground as he waits for me to do as he commands.

He watches me, unblinking, the corners of his lips twitching, like he’s waiting for me to break.

I hold the knife downwards and touch the blade to his forearm.

“Do it,” he urges. “Take revenge.”

The knife lowers slowly, but not enough to pierce his flesh.

“I … I can’t,” I whisper. “I’m not like you.” I try to pull the knife away, but he grips my hand above the handle and presses it against his skin. His eyes remain locked on mine as he sinks the blade deeper into his flesh.

“What are you doing?” I squeal.

He doesn’t blink. He’s unfazed. Calm. Still. As he carves his skin with the blade, blood starts dripping from his wound, but that doesn’t deter him. He guides my hand, keeping the blade pressed against his arm, carving deeper while his eyes remain unyielding on mine.

“Stop it already!” I shout, trying to break free from this madness.

And then, he does. His breathing becomes more rapid, and his eyes drop to the wound, making mine follow.

He carved a letter. A small capital letter.

K.

“What did you do?” I ask, my voiceshaking.

He leans in closer, a sinister smirk creeping across his well-shaped lips.

“Now, we’re even,” he hisses, his lips brushing against my ear. “Go to your room, Katerina.”

Today, I didn’t see her at all. I don’t know when I became so weak, so willing to let things unfold instead of bending them to my will. But with her, it’s different. She changes the rules. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. So protective. So honest. So true.

I figure there’s no point in pushing her. Besides, she’s mine, whether she realizes it or not. I can be patient for now.

Today is duty day. Time to deal with that worthless piece of shit, Torres. He actually thinks he can steal from me and walk away unscathed. Such a fool. He must have forgotten who runs things around here.

It’s okay. I’ll remind him—but not with words. Words are for men who still have choices. Torres made his choice when he crossed me. Now, I make mine. And I choose to make an example of him.

Everyone needs to see him for the pathetic, backstabbing scumbag he is. Paying his men to follow me instead was almost too easy. Loyalty crumbles fast when money talks.

Now, he walks blindly into his downfall, and he’ll never see it coming. Not until it’s too late. And by then, he’ll understand exactly who he was foolish enough to betray.

I’m walking through the deserted warehouse where we had our meeting, carrying a bag with a few things I want to show off. It’s leather and leakproof.