Caruso;
"Your last prayer. Now." Even I don't recognize the steel in my voice as I growl the words into Flores' ear, my grip tightening around him, forearm locking firmer against his throat.
My fingers flex on the trigger, tendons pulling taut, the anger in me too volatile to keep contained.
"No. Don't do it!" Fernandez's horrified shout cuts through the room, stopping me mid-pull, and I flick my gaze to him.
His brother thrashes and bucks in my hold, only managing to choke himself further.
"Really?" I sneer, tightening my arm just a fraction more, earning a strained groan that does nothing but soothe the violence clawing through my veins.
"Caruso, please…don't." His hands lift slightly, cautious, controlled. "Drop the gun."
I know what the bastard is doing—stalling, buying time for his men to swarm in.
Did he really think I'd walk into his territory alone and without a plan?
A low chuckle slips past my lips at the thought.
