Page 20 of Savage Obsession

I flick the blood from the knife before handing it back to Leon, my fingers steady, my pulse even.

Then I turn to the remaining men.

"If anyone else feels like testing me," I say, my tone disturbingly casual, "speak now. I promise you, the next death will be much slower."

No one moves. No one even dares to breathe.

Good.

Without another word, I turn on my heel and stride out of the warehouse, Leon falling into step beside me. I don’t look back. There’s no need.

The message is clear—cross me, and you die. And the men whose life I have just spared will surely spread that message.

11

Yelena

The streets of Philadelphia are different from New York—they feel less rigid, less chaotic, and yet, there’s a rhythm to them that I find oddly comforting. I should hate it, this new city that isn’t mine, this home that doesn’t feel like home. But I don’t. I know that if I’m going to thrive in this marriage, then I’ll have to carve out my own space in it.

I spend the morning shopping, exploring, and getting a feel of how the city works. I walk into a designer shop, ignoring the feeling that there are eyes on me. I’m selecting an emerald-green Valentino dress when a voice, sharp and venomous, cuts through the air behind me.

"That color is beautiful. But Aithan prefers red on me."

I don’t turn immediately. Instead, I take my time inspecting the fabric between my fingers, exuding nothing but calm indifference. Preys are the ones who react first. They always try to scurry in the face of perceived danger, and I refuse to give this woman that satisfaction.

“I am talking to you,Xéni.”

I do not understand the word, but judging from her condescending tone, I could tell she had just insulted me. Finally, I glance over my shoulder.

A blonde with honey-highlighted hair and bold, smug eyes stands a few feet away, her arms crossed, weight shifted onto one hip like she owns the space. Her designer heels scream expensive, but the way she’s looking at me? Cheap.

I arch a brow. "Do I know you?"

She smirks. "I’m Bella." She pauses, letting the name hang in the air, expecting me to react.

I don’t.

Her smirk tightens. "Aithan’s girlfriend."

Now, I turn fully, and I can’t stop the small, amused smile that curves my lips. "Oh?"

Bella’s head tilts, and her voice lowers, as if we’re sharing a secret. "I thought I’d introduce myself since we’re going to be… sharing."

I blink, then laugh softly, shaking my head.Sharing.

Bella misreads my reaction entirely, mistaking my amusement for nervousness.

"I get it," she continues, playing faux-sympathy like she’s doing me a favor. "You’re the Bratva princess, and Aithan needed to marry you for the alliance. He’s with you for business, but with me? It’s different."

I watch her in silence, letting her dig her own grave.

She steps closer, lowering her voice like she’s whispering something conspiratorial. "You can play the wife, but when he really wants someone? When he needs to take a break and relax?" She gives a delicate shrug, her smirk widening. "He comes to me."

A slow, dangerous heat is building inside me, coiling tight in my chest.

"Poor thing," Bella purrs, looking at me like I’m some clueless girl who doesn’t know what’s happening in her own marriage. "You really thought Aithan would want you?" She sighs, as if this pains her to say. "But don’t worry—I’ll take care of him when you’re too busy playing the dutiful wife."

The audacity of this woman.

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