Venice froze. [You want me to apologize to her?]
"I won't say it again. Apologize," Kevin repeated.
[No.] Her hands moved with defiance. [What will you threaten me with this time? My dog? My cat?]
He didn't even glance at her. "Take her outside," he ordered the guards. "Teach her what happens when someone forgets their place."
Two towering bodyguards seized Venice by the arms and dragged her out into the courtyard.
One kicked the back of her legs, forcing her down—straight onto burning coals.
The sound of sizzling flesh filled the air.
She opened her mouth to scream, but a harsh slap struck her face, cutting the sound short.
Her ears rang; the world tilted.
In the haze, she remembered another time.
When someone had caused trouble in her café, Kevin had stood before her protectively. "Venice, don't be afraid. I'll protect you for life. No one will ever hurt you."
Another slap landed.
Then another.
By the time the ninety-ninth blow fell, Venice's consciousness was fading, her skin was scorched, her cheeks swollen beyond recognition.
She no longer felt pain—only an empty, echoing numbness.
From somewhere distant, she heard Kevin's voice. "Stefanie, how do you feel now? Is your anger gone?"