A RED MIST COVERS MY eyes as I look at her pitiful form. She must have noticed the change in me because she's cowering in the corner, trying to keep a distance between us.
In two steps, I have her by the throat, squeezing the life out of her. It would be so easy. A little more pressure and I'd break her.
"What have you done, Allegra?" I ask her through gritted teeth. I already know the shit she's pulled, but I want to hear it from her own lips.
"Can't... breathe..." She squeaks, and I get the urge to tighten my grip. Finally snuff the life out of her.
"Tell me. What. Have. You. Done?" I enunciate each word, loosening my hold long enough for her to answer me.
"She fucking deserved it." She wheezes out, and I smack her against the wall. She whimpers in pain, but her expression doesn't change. It's a mix of defiance and malice that makes me sick to my stomach.
How could I have lived with her for so long?
"You're dead. You know that don't you?" The corner of my lip curls up in derision. She's been dead for a long time. I've just been biding my time.
"You... can't." She stammers.
"Oh, really?" I ask ironically, and my fingers dig into her skin, stopping her airflow.
"Papa?" A tiny voice stops me dead in my tracks.
I turn around and watch with horror as my son steps into the room, his face full of worry.
"What are you doing to mamma?"
I immediately release her, and she staggers to her feet.
"Me and your mamma were just having a grown-up conversation." I explain to him, side-eyeing her to keep her mouth shut.
She was saved just now.
But not for long.
"Why don't you go to bed, Lucca? I'll come read you a story in a few minutes." I urge him out of the room, and luckily he listens.
When he's out of sight, I turn back to face her—the bane of my existence.
She struggles to stand up, and she snickers at me.
"Can't kill me, can you? What will you tell your son?" She has a smug look on her face, convinced that Lucca would save her.
Oh, how wrong she is.
"The truth." I take a few steps towards her. "That his mother was a fucking whore and a traitor to boot."
Her confidence disappears, and she instinctively falls back.
"I think he'd rather judge me for not killing you sooner." A cruel smile stretches on my face.
One more step.
And she's dead.
Morally Blasphemous (Morally Questionable Book 2) Page 37