Page 10 of Poisonous Savage

Blood.That'swhatIremember most about the dayTony'slife bled out onto the dirt.Itmixed with the earth, dark and thick, a stain that wouldn't wash away no matter how hard the rain fell in the days after.Myfists clenched at the thought, knuckles going white as bone.Theimage of him lying there, eyes staring up at nothing, it haunted me.

Years, that's how long it'd been sinceI'dseenRosalind.Adamn decade.We'ddrifted, like leaves on a damn raging river, afterTony'scasket hit the ground with a thud of finality.Shevanished into thin air, a ghost of a girl with laughter that echoed through my dreams, taunting me.Butghosts don't bleed, and they sure as hell don’t marry men likeHunterDesmond.

Then, like a punch to the gut, she was back.NottheRosalindIknew, not the girl with the sun in her hair and wildness in her eyes.Thisone, she was different.Changed.Herface was the same, though, as those dark eyes that saw right through you.Andfuck, did she see through me when our gazes locked across that crowded room.

Ifelt it then, that familiar tug, like a hook lodged deep in my chest, yanking me towards her.Shewas sold to preserveTheBlackHands.Thethought made me want to ripVittolimb from limb.Shedeserved whatever semblance of a life she had before being forced to come here.Tolive with the monster that monsters feared.Hunter’swife.Acrown of thorns rested heavily on her brow, and the weight of that realization settled like lead in my stomach.

Thememories roared back, unbidden.Thecurve of her smile, the scent of her skin—hell, even the way she used to scrunch her nose up when she laughed.Itwas all there, etched into the back of my skull, a tattoo of forbidden thoughts.Iwondered if she still had that spark in her or if it was forever gone.

Hunterhad marked her as his.Wastedno time.Didn'teven give the woman a wedding.AndhereIwas, coveting what wasn't mine to take.Wantedher in ways that would get a lesser man killed—or worse, tortured byHunter'stwisted brand of justice.

Herpresence was a heat that singed the edges of my self-control.Eachtime she moved, each whisper of the fabric against her skin was an inferno threatening to burn me alive.Itwas a dance with the devil, watching her, knowing that touching her would be like reaching into the flames.

Alow growl rumbled in my throat, the sound more animal than man.Hunterdidn't deserve her; he couldn't appreciate the life she held inside, the very thing that made her more than just another trophy on his arm.Butwhat the hell couldIdo?Iwas his right-hand man, sworn to follow orders and uphold the code of theCinderCrew.

But,Christ,Iwanted her.Everyinch of her body, every beat of her heart—Iwanted to possess it all, to claim her as mine in defiance of the underworld we called home.Thethought of her under me, the taste of her lips, it was enough to drive a sane man mad.

"Fuck,"Ibreathed out, the word a prayer and a curse.Tohave her was to betray everything.Butwithout her, it felt likeIwas already walking through hell with no end in sight.

Theconflict raged within me, a war of loyalty and desire, andIknew, deep down, it was a battleIwas destined to lose.

Yesterday

Bloodsplattered across the grimy floor, droplets staining my shoes.Istood amidst the chaos; knuckles cracked and sore from the necessities of service.Hunter'sgrunt of satisfaction sliced through the din of groans from the beaten man at our feet.

"Makesure he understands.Henever should have touched my girl."Hunterhad said, his voice cold as the steel of his eyes.Anod was all it took - his command, my silent acquiescence.Therules were simple, and loyalty was unbreakable.Butdamn ifRosalind'simage didn't flash before me with every punchIthrew.

Ispat out the taste of iron, the copper tang that clung to my tongue.Christ, whatIwouldn't give to wash away the grime of this life, to cleanse myself in her laughter, to feel her touch soothe the deep-seated ache for something more than this endless cycle of brutality.

"Finishit,Marco,"Hunterbarked, the shadows under his eyes noticeable in the dim lighting of the cells.Hisheavy hand on my shoulder felt like the weight of the world, anchoring me to this dark reality.

Ina swift motion,Ireminded the poor bastard on the ground who ruled this concrete jungle.Myactions were mechanized, rehearsed—yet each crack of bone screamed in discord with the yearning in my chest.

"Good,"Huntergrunted, flashing a twisted grin that never reached his nearly black eyes.

ButwhenIclosed my eyes, it wasn't the broken body at my feetIsaw—it was her.Rosalind, with curls wild as the tangled paths of my conscience.Herdark eyes shimmered with the reflection of a lifeIcould never have, one whereIwasn't suffocating under the mantle of another man's sins.She'dnever forgive me if she knew whatIcould do.WhatIwas capable of.

"Tiehim up,"Hunterhad snapped, "make sure he's strung up for whenSofiagives her the tour.Iwant her to see what we can do."

Idragged the guy out, dumping him in another cell, a smaller one, with no bucket, no light... no hope.Istrung him up, as requested, and left the cell.Knowingthe girl would see it and understand what happens to those who crossHunterDesmond.

Ileaned against the cold brick wall, the texture biting through my shirt as if to wake me from this madness.Thoughtsof her were a poison, coursing through my veins with the sweetest agony.Shedeserved better.

"Damnit,"Imuttered.Thepath was a razor's edge, andIteetered on the brink.Tohave her, even for a moment, would be to dance with damnation itself.Mydesires werea treacherous tide pulling me under, threatening to drown what little honorIhad left in the abyss.

Apart of me—a monstrous, selfish shard of whoIonce was—screamed to take her, to claim the only shred of heavenI'dever known.Butthe consequences... they'd be a hurricane, leaving nothing but wreckage in its wake.Hunter'swrath was not something you survived—it obliterated everything in its path.

"Fuckin' hell,"Ihissed, shoving off the wall.Mybody was a temple of strength, a weapon honed for destruction, but inside,Iwas being torn apart by a war no one could see.Itwas a battle between desire and duty, love and allegiance.Iknew the stakes.Crossingthat line withRosalindmeant burning bridgesIcouldn't rebuild.Itmeant betraying the man who trusted me with his empire, his secrets, his life.

Arelationship withRosalindwasn't just playing with fire—it was strapping dynamite to your chest and begging for a spark.Ihad to stay chaste, keep my hands, and my heart locked away.ButChrist, every fiber of my being, wanted her.Iclenched my fists until the knuckles whitened, the pain grounding me, reminding me of whoIwas.MarcofuckingGiovetti,Hunter'sright hand.Aman born and bred in darkness, doomed to walk a path stained withblood and shadow.

Fornow,I'dshove these feelings into the deepest pitIcould find, bury them under layers of steel and violence.Becausein our world, love wasn't just a weakness—it was a death sentence.AndIwasn't ready to signRosalind'sor mine.Notyet.

Thesoftness ofRosalind'sskin haunted every goddamn thought.Iimagined her beneath me, all that long black hair splayed across white sheets, her dark eyes wide with hunger.Softnessin a world of shit and gunsmoke.Myhands were big and rough, tracing the curve of her waist and pulling her close until there was no space between us.She'dgasp, allowing me to take her.Tobrand her with everythingIhad.EverythingI'dnever given to anyone before.

"Fuck,"Imuttered.Theimage is too vivid, too sharp, like a blade twisting in my gut.

Inthat fantasy, there was solace, a brief escape from this hell we called home.Herlaughter would ring out, not a care that the man making her moan was soaked in the same blood that tainted her past.Inthose moments,I'dbe morethan justHunter'senforcer;I'dbe the man she clung to, the one who could make her forget the sins staining her bloodline.

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