"You brought me here for revenge, you say, but I don't see this as revenge, Vito," she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper, but every word hit like a brick. She wasn't just questioning him, she was tearing through the thin mask he wore like it was nothing.
He didn't flinch. "You don't tell me how to carry out my revenge, doll," he said, his voice low, gruff, like a storm barely held back.
She shifted on the bed, the sheets rustling softly beneath her, her eyes sharp and cold as knives. "Maybe I shouldn't be on this bed, laying next to you, since you brought me here to avenge a crime I didn't commit. Maybe I should just lay on the cold floor. That way, I'll get sick, and you'll be happy." Her words floated in the air, bitter but calm, like poison wrapped in silk. She didn't
