Lissa tried to turn and stand at the same time, one hand still covering her throat. She felt the thin wire as it cut into the back of her hand and the side of her neck. He yanked her backward, toward him, so that she lost balance and fell against his chest.
“I’m sorry, girl,” he whispered. “Have no choice.” Alberto spoke in Italian to her, his head close to hers as he tightened the wire, twisting fast.
In that moment, when she was certain she was going to die, she still found time to note he sounded sad, remorseful even, but determined. She dug her heels into the ground and shoved backward, slamming her back against his chest, putting inches between them, allowing her to straighten.
“Damn it, quit fighting. He didn’t want you to suffer,” his voice hissed in her ear. “He said to tell you, ‘sorry.’”
She slammed her foot down on his instep, her hand slipping into the inside pocket of her vest. Her fingers closed around the prize even as blood trickled in a semicircle around her throat. She drew the knife and slammed it, first into his thigh and then yanking it out, and back into his ribs. She didn’t get a good angle on the ribs, but it went in.
He screamed, and for a moment his hands loosened their grip on the garrote. Before she could fling herself forward, he had control again, his hands tightening viciously, ignoring the knife in his ribs. Just as suddenly he was gone. She dropped to her knees, reaching to loosen the wire with one hand. Blood poured from the long slice on the back of her other hand and ran freely down her neck where the wire had sliced her skin.
She scrambled away from Alberto and turned to see Casimir, looking like Tomasso, his face a mask of pure fury. She could feel the heat coming off him in waves. His skin glowed, exposing the fire element burning inside his belly.
She tried to speak, to tell him she was okay, but no sound emerged. She flung the garrote onto the ground beside what would have been her grave and watched with a horrified fascination as Casimir nearly pulverized the head gardener with his glove-covered fists.
She made two attempts to get to her feet again, but failed both times. Casimir. Stop. You’re going to kill him.
That’s the fucking idea, he spat back, but after one last, very vicious punch to the face, he yanked the assassin to his feet. “Tell me who hired you? Who put the hit out on Lissa?”
His face contorted with pain, Alberto choked once and then shook his head. His gaze avoided Lissa’s.
“You’re going to die. How that happens is what we’re discussing right now and it’s entirely up to you, although I’m so fucking pissed at you I’d rather you choose the hard way. You want to go quick and painless, you tell me what I want to know. You don’t talk to me, it’s going to take you a long, long time and you’re going to know what the word agony means.” There was no mercy in Casimir’s voice.
Casimir. Honey. I know you’re upset but… Lissa trailed off. He didn’t turn his head or look at her. His jaw was set, his face an expressionless mask. His eyes were flat. Cold. Dead. She was looking at the monster, the one shaped in that school from so long ago.
“Take a walk, Lissa,” he ordered, snapping the command at her.
She tried again, her heart beating fast, her voice no more than a hoarse whisper. “Honey.” She killed, yes, but she didn’t torture, she didn’t prolong a death. She tried her best to make it quick and painless, no matter what she felt about the target. Casimir didn’t have the same scruples, that was very evident.
“Walk away now,” he snapped.
Clamping a hand to her neck, she took a deep breath and moved away from the two men, but refused to leave. Casimir had saved her life. She knew that. She also knew there was no stopping what he was doing. He would extract the information he wanted in the way he chose, whether she approved or not. He was his own man, and he took her protection very seriously. She sank down to the ground, pulling her legs to her, keeping pressure on the wound at her neck. Alberto hadn’t managed to open her artery but it was close.
Alberto screamed in pain. There was a sickening crack. She closed her eyes, listening to the gardener’s breath come in horrible ragged gasps. “Luigi. He didn’t want to do it. He told me he had no choice. He wanted it done quick. Without pain if possible. If she hadn’t fought me…”
“And then what were you supposed to do?”
“Send him proof. Show her dead. Put her in the ground, cover her and replant.”
“One picture? Two? Text saying it’s done?” Casimir demanded.
Alberto hesitated and there was another mind-numbing scream. Casimir hadn’t given him a chance to think about it. Lissa’s stomach lurched. First Cosmos had sat at the table with her family and then he’d betrayed them. Arturo had held her when she was a little girl and wiped away tears. He’d betrayed her. Luigi, her own uncle, her father’s brother, had set the entire mess into play by the ultimate betrayal, and now Alberto, another man she’d known since she was a child, had been willing to kill her as well.