His saggy cheeks ripple with anger. “You’re right. I do believe you can take the whip. But I wonder… do you think your littleboy feels the same?”
He’s close enough to try reaching out to touch Mischa’s cheek. I beat him to the punch—literally, more or less—and crackVittorio across the face as hard as I can.
The sound of skin meeting skin echoes out. His men all freeze.
I might’ve just made a very big mistake.
Eventually, Vittorio moves. His fingers rise up to graze where I just struck him. He inspects his fingertips like he expects tofind blood there, though unfortunately, I didn’t hit him hard enough for that.
His face roils and burns like some monstrous thing hidden beneath burlap. I don’t know what’s going to burst out: rage orcurses or cold
