Lavina
Dante’s standing there, just holding a pair of metal clamps between his gloved fingers. Thin black wires snake from the clamps like veins, leading straight to that small black battery pack sitting on the table. My stomach flips so hard I damn near puke, and I start letting out these weak ass whimpers without even meaning to. I know that thing. I’ve seen him use it before. I know exactly what the f**k it can do.
He starts turning the clamps slow, almost like he’s admiring them, like he’s twirling some fancy piece of jewelry instead of a goddamn torture device. Then his eyes snap back to me…cold…and my throat locks up so tight I can’t even breathe. His boots start moving, slow and steady, until he’s right in front of me.
"Ain’t they beautiful?" He says calmly.
"Dante... please, I
