Crown of Sins - Chaelisa

-Chapter Forty One-

*Roseanne's POV*

With my other hand braced on the bar, I continue breathing as slow as I can. And I look up to the ceiling for a moment while I try to collect enough composure to speak again.

Not a single tear breaks past my lashes, but I'm not too proud to say that I've cried for a lot less before. There's no way I'd be ashamed to cry right now, as he works to pull just that from me. But if I can help it, I just don't want to give him what he wants.

"You know," I say as calmly as I can, though each word is a lot slower than normal, more pressured. Hey, the fact that I can speak at all seems like a win, so I use that to push me. "I'm not unsympathetic," I finish.

Liam leans his head back. First there're several creases of shock that pop up across his forehead, though he tries to hide it as fast as he can-like he's already anticipated every single thought I'll ever have.

Then Liam tips backward just enough so I can look up his nose while he laughs at me, at what I said, at how ballsy he thinks I am. And that's fine.

I don't tap my free fingers on the bar while he has his own little party on the other side, but it helps calm me to think about doing it.

In the few moments Liam laughs, he loosens his hold of me. Not enough to get much relief, but enough so that I can see straight again without having to squint at him.

The reprieve is short-lived, though, because when he finishes and his beady eyes meet mine again, colder now than they have been yet, he pushes his thumb into me even harder.

"Please, keep going," Liam says, no longer even pretending to smile. "Because I understand, even if we both know I did exactly what I had to do, I understand where you're coming from." He snorts, but his attention is sharper now, and he doesn't look away with the derisive gesture like he probably would if he were actually being dismissive.

"And, due to that, I'll give you one chance to stop what you're doing. You can let go and walk out of here without any issues or even worries about retribution. But, once the time ticks by and the chance is gone, you won't get another," I say, my voice almost unrecognizable as it deepens and turns huskier than I've ever managed before.

It's not because I'm trying to sound intimidating. Really. I'm just doing all I can to not scream or let my voice crack while I threaten the man with his hands on me.

I can see Liam's pupils flare, and his anger grows, and he works to keep the insults he wants to start throwing at me just on the inside of his lips.

"One chance to save your own life," I add.

He hears me. I can see the thoughts whirring around behind his eyes. Liam isn't stupid; he wouldn't be where he is today if he were, so he won't dismiss my offer without the consideration it deserves.

But I know he's not going to take it. I know even before he opens his mouth to laugh at me again.

Which he does, though he does it differently this time. Liam leans forward to bathe me in his tangy breath as he barks out bursts of laughter. There's a menacing edge to the forced sounds, but I don't cringe. I'm most proud that I don't wrinkle my nose either.

While still too close, still leaning toward me, Liam goes on the tirade I've been waiting for.

"I knew you'd take everyone down when you took over for your dad. I've had bets going for years, and I've just been waiting from the sidelines, hoping. I never interfered, so don't look at me like that," he says even though I haven't moved a single muscle.

Not to try and get relief for my wrist. Not to raise an eyebrow at him. Not even to widen my eyes or my mouth. I'm standing perfectly still.

He doesn't care about that, and I think he'd have said it exactly that way no matter what I did or tried to say.

"I knew the entire family would fall to their knees with you at the head. It took longer than I expected, I'll admit that. But it was inevitable, just a matter of time." Liam pulls my wrist closer to him, but he doesn't go back to his position from earlier; he stays too close.

"Your father chose wrong when he passed the torch to you. Even that moron baby brother of yours would have been a better choice. At least he knows the rules he's occasionally breaking."

The mention of Tate warms me, heating my veins like they've got something other than blood for a minute. And not in the good kind of heat-the kind that makes me want to burn everything down.

"You may be called The Mafia Princess-so precious by the way-but that's only what they say to your face. Behind your back they call you other things, a lot of other things. Things I'd never say, even to you," Liam says with a wink.

Only, he's not really able to do it the way it's supposed to look. Half of his face tenses while parts of the other half seem to crumple in on themselves. It's laughable, I mean it would be in any other situation. But I'm laughing on the inside, kind of.

There's no way I'm touching his comments either. Riled up on the inside or not, I won't be playing quite the way he wants me to with this game.

"It's really too bad you wasted the chance. I meant the offer sincerely. And I was actually rooting for you to save yourself," I say while actually managing to lift both corners of my mouth in a strained approximation of my normal smile. "But, really, I'm sorry for myself too."

That gets his attention. Not that he wasn't so fixed on me that he'd miss an alien invasion around us. But he didn't expect that, and it brings his awful breath even closer still.

"Do tell," he says as his eyes harden around what he's imagining doing to me right now.

"Yeah, I mean, I'm a little worried that without the competition, without you to keep pushing me, that I'm going to go a little softer. I'll probably work a little less. I mean, what's the point when I don't have anyone to beat, like I always do," I say to Liam, watching as his face gets more compact in confusion with every word.

But when he's done deciphering, as his face goes slack, it also starts turning a concerning shade of red. I wait, trying to time this all perfectly. And when his eyes go a little unfocused as the fog of unstoppable rage rolls in, I know it's my chance.

And I look up, away from the only thing I've been focused on for way too many minutes. I look up and straight into Jennie's eyes.

She watches me, has been watching me, so she's ready-even from up on the stage, and she swivels her hips slowly.

I nod to her, my chin barely dipping.

Before I even have time to look back from Jennie to Liam she's got her arm raised over her head. With a balled fish, she moves it up and down like a head nodding just as I did.

Then her other hand joins the first, above her head as well, and she taps her fingers up on the pole. She starts with all five on both hands. Then nine hits the metal next.

And I feel every other set of eyes in the club on her. Even if they desperately want to be on me and Liam, everyone is watching Jennie as she signals them.

A chain reaction begins as I look back to the poor, sad man with his fragile ego. But the fog is gone from his face, and before I can try to interpret what it's been replace with, he sucks in a breath. And then he does what he's been waiting to do since he walked in here.

Liam's own wrist flicks in a hard motion, breaking mine in one solid movement. I feel the bones cracking after no longer being able to put up with the strain. And then my own screaming fills my ears and the entire room around us.