(KRYSTAL'S POV)
The only thing separating me from Raffaele Vipera is the kitchen island standing between us.
His gun is still pointing right at me, but apart from that, what's even more unsettling is his calm demeanor. The way he's standing motionless like a fucking statue. The way his finger rests near the trigger of the gun.
What am I gonna do? What the FUCK am I gonna do?!
If I make one wrong move, he won't hesitate to put a bullet through my skull.
I can see it in his eyes.
But I'm not backing down. I clutch the knife's handle so tight that my fingers go numb, my heart pounding against my ribs like it's trying to break out, a bead of sweat slipping down the side of my face.
"I'm not going to ask again." He breaks the silence, his tone cool, and deep. "Put. The knife. Down."
I grip the knife tighter until my knuckles turn white. The words crawl up my throat before I can stop them.
"Go to hell," I hiss through my teeth.
