The Mafia's Nanny (SPG)
I pressed my hand to the wall to steady myself, the other clamped over my mouth to stifle any sound.
How could they do this? How could they smile while they did it?
My mind spun. Did Sir Death even know about this? Did he realize his men were capable of murder and enjoying it?
I pressed both hands to my mouth, sliding down the wall until I sat huddled on the floor. The tattooed man from yesterday Maxim, I think his name was held a Japanese sword, its blade glistening slick in the dim light. He’d run it through the bound man’s throat first, then… I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the echo of that sickening thud.