His breath was like rancid butter, his sweat smelled like rotten cheese, his skin was sticky with sweat and his belly felt like a sack of sand; and yet, Diego couldn't break off from his grasp. His hairy arms curled around like two pythons; one around his neck and the other, around his chest. "Scream, and I will squeeze your guts out," he croaked.
In the corners of that room, it was dark, and yet he recognized that voice; Dominic. The others were in ecstasy from the meal and the prospect of freedom; they couldn't care less about what happens in the shadows.
Diego wanted to scream out, but he knew Dominic was not bluffing. With every flinch he made, Dominic tightened his grip more. "What do you want?" Diego groaned in silence. "Everyone with you is dead," Diego tried to say without fear, but still his voice broke.
"Everyone but me," he could feel the heat from his breath. "If I am going down, I would rather do it after punching one of you to death."
