The Mafia Bride (Katrina and Silas)

Chapter 112

Katrina’s POV

“Ethan? What are you doing?” I asked, my eyes on the blade. My heart thumped fast in my chest, goosebumps filling my body.

He was doing the same things Silas had done to me, but while one was meant to please me, the other brought pain.

“Isn’t it obvious what I’m doing?” Ethan’s grin widened as he pressed the knife harder against my arm, the sharp tip threatening to pierce my skin.

I bit the bottom of my lip, trying to force myself from groaning in pain.

I didn’t know how far Ethan was willing to go to get what he wanted. I didn’t know if he would actually hurt me badly, but I hoped Silas stopped doing whatever it was he was doing and tried to save me.

Or what if I tried to save myself? I’m not some damsel in distress that needs saving.

“Come on Katrina. I want to see you scream in pain. I want you to beg me while knowing I wouldn’t give you any chance of mercy,”

Ethan pressed the knife tip deeper into my skin, blood trickling down my arm.

I clenched my teeth, my eyes squeezing shut. But yet, I didn’t make a sound of pain.

“Still going to play tough, Katrina?” he asked, his voice almost casual, as though this were some twisted game.

Maybe to him, it was a game because he seemed to be having fun. A game to find out just how much pain Katrina could take.

But why was it always me? Why not someone else? Heck, why not Silas‘ betrothed?

I’m certain Silas would show much reaction if she was the one who was kidnapped.

“Katrina… You’re making this boring,” Ethan drawled out my name, his eyes falling on mine like he was actually bored.

“If you need entertainment, why don’t you go to a playground?” I spat out.

I was getting tired of being the subject of torture.

“That’s because I want you

Katrina,”

as he

the knife was pulled away from my arm and I let out a sigh

expected to keep

me, my father would-” I started, but his

my current relationship with

scare him into

Katrina?” Ethan mused like it was the

he would do it, would he? But as I stared into his

shits about me,

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let him see any flicker of fear. But the burn of the blade against

that silence as bravery,” Ethan mused, pulling the blade away. For a brief moment, I felt relief–until he grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking

as he

M

against my face. “With total control? I bet he does. You’ve always

and I have never felt so humiliated by

defiance in my tone masking the

shoving my head forward. My scalp burned, but I bit my lip to stop a

S

toolbox. My stomach twisted at the sound

and I watched as

between Ethan

could get my hands on those then I was set. I wouldn’t care this time, I’d be ending his life

out a pair of pliers, “torture isn’t just about pain. It’s about breaking

toy he couldn’t wait to use. He crouched in front of me, grabbing my bound feet and examining my

last without screaming,” he murmured

snarled, my voice trembling now. I tried to thrash around, but my movements were doing little

braced myself, my teeth clenched so hard I thought they’d crack. The pressure on my

echoed through the