(An excerpt! [You'll never find out who it is..!] This is all I'm going to post. Hope you've enjoyed. :))
The man stomped outside into the rain, seething with fury.
The cops had caught the old Mafioso, yes they had, but they had come close, so close, to catching him. He was angry, angry at himself for letting it get that close, and tonight, he resolved to end it.
He knew exactly which woman he would kill this time. He knew, and he was ready.
This time, there would be no cowering behind unconscious girls who didn’t know what was coming, or carefully concealed evidence, no, this time, he was marching straight into the house, a haven and refuge where people thought they were at their safest, and kill her.
And then he would kill himself.
Rain came down hard, soaking him to the skin as he tightened his slippery grip on his knife handle, squeezing it so hard that it should have hurt his palm.
But it didn’t.
Because tonight he felt no pain, nothing at all but anger and determination.
The man strode to the chosen house, small, modest, and standing firmly under the relentless wind and rain, and opened the door.
All the lights were out, except one in the living room, the golden lamplight spilling out into the hallway in a warm globe. He crept down the hall and stepped into the room, where the woman sat, calmly reading a book.
She looked up and momentary fear, endless, black, wonderful fear, engulfed her fine features.
The man crossed the space of the little area that separated them, and held the knife edge to her chest, grabbing hold of her hair with his other hand, keeping her face close to his, forcing her to look at him and the knife tip that he was pressing into the hollow where he knew her empty heart lay.
“Scream, go ahead,” he invited in a snarl, rattling her head a few times with his vice-grip on her hair, “you’ll be dead before the last sounds fall from your lips.”
Actually, that may have been a lie, to her and to himself, because the man was trying to stretch this out a bit, trying to savor the last killing he would ever commit.
“Don’t do this…please…” the woman gasped.
The man ignored her desperate plea, smirking evilly, as he extraordinarily slowly drew back his hand.
Time seemed to slow.
A lightning flash lit up the room and reflected white in the wicked blade. A thunder clap that rocked the house followed a moment after.
The metallic taste of acid coated his tongue while his heart beat crazily.
And just when he was about to plunge down he knife, a door slammed open, and the woman screamed as two other people entered the house....
