Page 107 of The Beautiful Dead

Domino exhaled another drag, the ember at the tip of his cigarette glowing like an eye in the dark. “You want to play the long game,piccolo agnello?”

I grunted in affirmation. I could already see it—the slow unraveling of a man who thought himself untouchable. The power of fear, how it could corrode a person’s mind long before the knife ever touched their skin.

A sharp thrill crawled up my spine.

Domino moved fast. One second, he was smoking beside me. The next, I was pinned against the frozen metal of a shipping container, his hand wrapped around my throat.

The force of it sent a shudder through me, pleasure and pain threading together in a heady mix. His breath, laced withnicotine and something darker, ghosted over my lips, his smirk curling as I let him take, let him hold.

“What are you thinking?” His voice was low, a growl in the night.

His nose brushed up the column of my throat, and a deep, resonant sound rumbled in his chest.

I was so fucking gone for him.

My body betrayed me instantly. My hips punched forward on instinct as he slid a thigh between my legs, his grip tightening just enough to make the edges of my vision blur.

“I’m thinking…” I exhaled shakily. “About all the things we could do to him. When he’s strung up in your playroom.”

Domino snorted softly, his lips brushing against my pulse. “Is that what you call it?”

“Yes,” I hissed as his teeth sank into my neck, his mark sinking deep into my skin.

This morning, I had mourned the fading bruises in the mirror. Now? He was refreshing them. Staking his claim and feeding my obsession. With the way he owned me, forced me to submit to his every sick and twisted whim.

Blunt nails dug into my jaw, tipping my head back as his mouth crashed into mine. Teeth scraped against skin, sharp and unforgiving. A gasp caught in my throat before his teeth sank into my bottom lip, tearing at the flesh until the metallic burn of copper burst across our tongues.

I moaned into him, and he swallowed it whole.

My hands fisted into his jacket, dragging him closer, the kiss deepening into something raw, violent—never sweet, never soft. This was the language we spoke: pain and pleasure, power and surrender, the sharp bite of desire laced with destruction.

Domino smirked against my mouth, pulling back just enough to mutter, “You’re fucking desperate.”

I bit him back. Hard enough to feel the sharp pull of his breath, the way his grip on my throat tightened just enough to make me dizzy. I licked into his mouth, tasting blood and smoke, and groaned when his fingers tugged my hair back brutally.

“Say it,” he rasped, his voice like gravel.

“Say what?”

“That you want me.”

I exhaled sharply, my hands dragging over his scarred knuckles encased in cold metal, his solid chest, his lethal body pressed against mine. I tilted my chin up, let him see it in my eyes, “I want you.”

Domino hummed, satisfied, before abruptly releasing me. I nearly stumbled, my breath ragged as he wiped his thumb over his bottom lip, smearing the blood across his face.

“Later,” he murmured, dark promise dripping from the word.

Cold wind bit at my skin, the haunting mist around us dissipating as a fine drizzle fell. The droplets glistened in his black hair like scattered diamonds. They always said the devil was the most beautiful angel before he fell; they just didn’t know how true that was.

Domino stood beside me, silent, the weight of his presence pressing against my skin like a second heartbeat. His fingers twitched at his sides, his stance deceptively loose—but I knew better. It was a predator’s ease. A readiness coiled into every muscle, waiting for the moment to strike.

The docks stretched ahead, swallowed in mist. Thick and unnatural, the fog clung to the ground like a living thing, curling around the rusted shipping containers, masking movement, swallowing sound. The air was damp, heavy with the tang of salt and oil, but beneath it lurked something else. Something rotting.

We’d set the bait—a fake shipment marked with the DeMarco insignia. Loud. Blatant. A neon sign blinking in the dark. A hook waiting in the water for something to bite.

But the Gallos weren’t stupid. They were one of the most powerful families on the East Coast, and Federico was obsessed with taking them down. It made him reckless. But it didn’t make him an idiot.

I doubted they’d fall for such an obvious trap. It worked. Just not the way we expected.

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