~ Massimo ~
I didn't think. I didn't breathe. I just saw red.
I tackled Cristiano like a bull, my shoulder connecting with his chest with a force that should have cracked ribs.
Niamh let out a sharp scream that tore through the thumping bass of the club, but I didn't care. I wanted to feel his neck under my shoes.
But Cristiano was a bloody snake. He always had been.
Before I could pin him to the floor, he wiggled away, his body slick and impossible to hold.
He rolled to his feet in one fluid motion, a wide, maddening grin already splitting his face.
I lunged again, throwing a heavy left hook that would have shattered his jaw, but he ducked it. I swung a right, then a straight jab—technical strikes that had downed countless men—but he blocked the last one and danced backward, cackling with laughter.
"Too slow, biggest brother!" he teased, his voice bright with a sick kind of joy.
My frustration hit a boiling point.
