ログインSorry for the mistake in the synopsis/blurb darlings. It was the draft I copy pasted.
Blood still stained his shirt. Camila’s blood. Antonio’s blood. The metallic scent clung to him like perfume. I inhaled quietly. Most people would recoil from that smell. To me it felt… familiar. Comforting, even.The doors to the master bedroom opened with a heavy thud as he pushed them with his shoulder. The room beyond was massive—dark wood, tall windows, shadows stretching across the polished floor.Power lived in this room. Authority. Possession. He set me down on the bed, carefully. Too carefully for a man who had just skinned two traitors alive. I leaned back slightly against the mattress, watching him as he straightened.Alejandro Cortes stood at the edge of the bed like a storm barely held together by discipline. Blood streaked across his jaw and throat. His dark eyes burned as they studied me. “Still watching,” he muttered. I smiled faintly. “You’re very entertaining.”His jaw flexed as he stared at me for a long moment. Then he stepped closer. Slowly. The air between us thic
I should have walked away. That would have been the logical decision. Finish the interrogation. Clean the mess. Regain control. Instead, I was still looking at him. Nikolai Vassilliou sat in that chair like he belonged in the middle of chaos. Blood in the air, screams fading into silence, bodies barely breathing—and yet his attention had never wavered. Not from me. Dio mio. The realization settled in my chest like something heavy. Dangerous.“You’re still watching,” I said. He tilted his head slightly, that same faint smile playing on his lips. “Always.” The answer came too easily. Too naturally. Like it wasn’t a question at all. Behind me, Leandro shifted. Ibram said something to Lucas—low, controlled. Orders. Cleanup. Containment. Normal things. I ignored all of it. Because I couldn’t ignore him.“You got what you wanted,” I said. “The shipment. The truth.” Nikolai leaned back slightly despite the tension in his body, like pain was an inconvenience he refused to acknowledge. “I usual
The way he looked at me—No. The way he let me see him looking at me. It crawled under my skin like something alive.Nikolai didn’t flinch from the blood. Didn’t look away from the broken bodies, the screams, the metallic weight of it thick in the air. He sat there like a man watching theater—wounded, restrained, yet somehow still in control. Of the room. Of me.My grip tightened around the knife. Possessive. Hungry. Obsessed. The words echoed in my mind—unwelcome, undeniable. Mine. I stepped away from Antonio before that realization turned into something reckless. Something irreversible.“Start with his hands,” I said coldly. Leandro didn’t hesitate. The crack of bone came sharp and sudden. Antonio’s scream followed. It was raw, tearing through the room as his finger bent the wrong way, skin splitting under pressure. I didn’t look. Not because I couldn’t. Because I didn’t need to.Then, I could feel him. Nikolai’s gaze pressed against my back like a blade. Sharp, deliberate, and intru
The sound she made when Alejandro cut her tongue out was… memorable. High. Wet. Broken. Camila’s scream tore through the torture room like a dying animal’s final cry. Blood poured from her mouth in thick crimson streams, spilling over her lips and down her throat, staining the front of her once-elegant dress. The guards holding her struggled to keep her still as her body convulsed violently.I leaned back in the chair Alejandro had placed me in. Comfortably. Well—comfortable enough for a man who had been stabbed, shot, and nearly bled out the night before. Pain pulsed faintly through my abdomen, but it was manageable. Right now something far more interesting held my attention.Alejandro.The Don of the Cortes empire stood before his wife like a dark god of vengeance. Blood splattered across his face and neck, Camila’s blood, and instead of wiping it away he inhaled slowly like the metallic scent was intoxicating. Fascinating. Most men broke when grief hollowed them out. Alejandro Corte
When I asked the question, he didn’t answer. Of course he didn’t. Instead, Nikolai only grinned—slow, mischievous, and utterly infuriating. Then he leaned closer. Too close.His injured body shifted forward until our faces were barely inches apart. Our lips almost brushed. I could feel his breath against my mouth, warm and steady, his pale eyes glittering with that same dark amusement that had been haunting me since the moment I dragged him out of that cell.“Not gonna tell, Alejandro,” he murmured. My jaw tightened. He really fucking knew exactly what he was doing. Then he tilted his head slightly. “But don’t you have someone to interrogate?” he continued lazily. His voice lowered. “Or torture?” His eyes gleamed. “I mean certain people.”He leaned back slightly, watching my reaction carefully. “I want to see,” he finished softly. “Per favore.” Fanculo. Why did he look so damn good begging like that? Something dark stirred in my chest. The request should have disgusted me. Instead, it
For a moment, no one moved. Not Viktor. Not Alejandro. Not the dozens of men pointing guns at each other across the room like a powder keg waiting for a spark. Only the slow sound of breathing filled the air. Mine. Alejandro’s. The men surrounding us.I could feel Alejandro’s arm around my waist, firm and immovable, like iron wrapped in silk. His chest was solid behind me, heat radiating through the thin fabric of my shirt. Even injured, I could feel how tightly he held me—as if letting go had simply stopped being an option somewhere along the way.Possession. That was the word. The Don of the Cortes empire had crossed a line, and judging by the dark fire in his eyes, he had absolutely no intention of stepping back. My lips curved faintly. How fascinating.Viktor’s gun remained steady, though I could see the calculation happening behind his eyes. He was measuring distance, men, angles. The cost of blood. Alejandro was doing the same. “Well,” I said slowly, breaking the silence. “Let’s
I woke up to the sound of footsteps heading my way. I still felt the lingering pain from yesterday. When I completely opened my eyes, I saw a man heading towards me with a tray that had what looked like stale bread and beans on the side and a glass of water on his hands. He put the tray on the floor
NikolaiPain woke me slowly. It seeped into my bones like winter cold, heavy and relentless, reminding me with every breath that Antonio’s knife had not been kind. For a long moment I lay still, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling while my mind assembled the fragments of the previous night.The kni
Blood. So much blood.It soaked through my hands, warm and slick, spreading across the stone floor in a dark crimson pool. The metallic scent clawed at my lungs, thick and suffocating. My fingers trembled slightly but not from fear, but from the thrill of control, the raw intensity of holding life a
I woke to a dull, throbbing ache that seemed to pulse through every part of my body. For a moment I didn’t move. Didn’t open my eyes. I simply lay there against the cold stone wall, letting the pain settle into something familiar. Something manageable. My shoulder burned where Alejandro’s knife had







