Bound to the Don

Chapter 36

Salma's Pov

I hated myself in that moment, I hated how I blushed, how my heart raced, just because Armando showed the tiniest bit of what looked like affection. It disgusted me. I hated him even more for making me feel that way, for knowing exactly what he was doing. So I looked him dead in the eyes and said, "No."

My voice was sharp and final.

I didn't care what he did to me. I wasn't going to be the reason someone bled. Not for him or for anyone.

He just smiled, that dark, twisted smile of his. The kind that made my stomach turn.

"Oh?" he said, voice low and laced with mockery. "So you're refusing me now? You're not going to do what I say?"

His tone wasn't angry. That made it worse. It was calm, amused... dangerous. Like he was waiting for me to break.

But I stood my ground. "I won't hurt him," I said again, my voice barely holding steady. It trembled, no matter how hard I tried to sound strong. My hands wouldn't stop shaking, but my heart was firm. I wasn't going to hurt that man. I didn't even know who he was. And even if he was the worst kind of person, I wasn't a killer. I wasn't like him.

Armando let out a low laugh, sharp and cold, like he already knew how this would end.

Then, without a word, without warning, he grabbed a shuriken and threw it. Fast. Too fast and I gasped.

It struck the man square in the shoulder.

He let out a deep, painful groan, his whole body jerking hard against the ropes. I watched as the blood started to soak through his already dirty shirt, spilling down his arm, hitting the floor in slow, steady drops. I flinched so hard I almost stumbled backward. My chest tightened. I couldn't breathe right. My heart was pounding like it wanted to escape my body.

What just happened?

How could Armando do that? Just throw a weapon like it was nothing?
But then I remembered Bruno. The way he screamed. The way Armando didn't stop torturing him . And it hit me, this wasn't out of character. This was Armando. This was who he really was. Cruel, cold and undeniably heartless.

And now, here I was. Standing in front of him again.

He looked at me like he was bored. Like I was the problem now.
"What?" he said, voice calm but sharp. "You won't do it, and now you won't let me do it either?"
Then he leaned forward a little, his eyes locked on mine. "If you want me to stop...then do it yourself. End it. Or I'll keep going until he dies."

I froze completely.

Like my brain just stopped working. My legs felt like stone. My hands now cold and useless by my side.
End it?
Kill someone?

I couldn't move nor couldn't breathe properly.

My eyes stayed locked on his, but my body was frozen in place. The weight of what he was saying hit me like a wall. End it? Was he serious? Did he really want me to kill someone just to stop him from torturing them?

The man in the chair whimpered again, blood still pouring from his shoulder. His breathing was ragged, like every breath was a fight to stay alive. And Armando... he stood there like it was nothing. Like this was just another part of his twisted routine.

I shook my head slowly, barely able to find my voice. "No," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I can't."

I didn't even know the man tied up in that chair, but I knew one thing, I wasn't a killer. I couldn't do it.
And yet, if I didn't... Armando would.
And he wouldn't stop until there was nothing left of the man.