Bound by Vows and Vendetta
Both held cold Russian PM pistols, raised and leveled on either side of Giovanni’s temple.
Giovanni’s mouth went dry. He tried to speak but only managed a croaked, “What... what do you want from me?”
Lorenzo’s laughter was soft and venom-laced.
“Idiota. The question isn’t what I want,” Lorenzo said, taking slow steps toward him, “but in what brutal way you're going to die tonight... for thinking yourself a god. For touching what’s mine.”
With one sudden motion, he stepped in close and plunged a dagger into Giovanni’s side — not deep, just enough to make him scream and tremble.