Page 72 of Lord of the Dark

The first letter of his last name. Carved into my skin. A choked sound escaped my throat, half sob, half ragged gasp. I staggered back, pressing my hand over the mark as if I could wipe it away, as if sheer will could undo what he’d done. But the R remained.

Red. Indelible. His brand. On my skin, in a place that left little room for interpretation.

I rinsed off hastily, my heart hammering against my ribs in fury. Wrapping the towel tightly around myself, I brushed distractedly over my thigh, feeling the faint sting that reminded me this wasn’t a dream.

I tiptoed into the bedroom. He stood by the window, phone pressed to his ear, his voice calm but ice-cold: "If that’s true, Morales is useless. We don’t have room for weakness. He had his chance." His torso tensed slightly, muscles shifting beneath his shirt.

He saw me as I entered, gesturing for me to wait.

I didn’t obey. Slowly, I stepped closer, raised my hand, and crooked a finger—beckoning him.

A shadow crossed his face. He wedged the phone between his shoulder and ear, closing the distance with that charged look, as if he thought I meant to seduce him.

"Do you really think he can still handle this?" he murmured to Giovanni while crossing the room. "It’s about the message, too. Weakness like this doesn’t go unnoticed by the cartel. That they got this far is bad enough—it’ll invite copycats. I don’t have the patience for that. Or do you want more nights like yesterday?" His voice dripped with irony, edged with danger.

Without thinking, I swung my hand and slapped him across the face. Hard. A sharp crack echoed in the silence.

He didn’t even flinch. His dark eyes narrowed. "One moment," he said quickly into the phone before tossing it carelessly onto the bed. "What the hell was that?" he growled, flipping me onto my back in one swift motion.

I gasped as he loomed over me.

Furious, I pointed to my thigh. To the R.

His gaze followed my hand. No remorse. No apology.

Instead, his lips curled into a filthy smirk. Slowly, deliberately, he mouthed a single word—soundless, but unmistakable: Beautiful.

"Alessandro!" I spat, but he pressed me deeper into the mattress, and before I could speak again, his hand covered my mouth, silencing me. His eyes were intense, dark, and he gave a slight shake of his head—a silent command to stay quiet.

"You’ll need to replace Morales," he said calmly to Giovanni, as if nothing had happened. "Immediately. You know what that means."

Beneath him, my heart pounded, trapped and motionless. His words hung in the air, their meaning sinking in slowly. "Replace him immediately." I knew what that likely entailed—and the thought of it sent a chill through me.

Giovanni answered on the other end, his voice loud, I heard him ask something. Alessandro listened while continuing to fixate on me, his grip over my mouth remaining firm. Yet when I shifted slightly to free myself from his hold, he shook his head again. I paused, but the impulse to resist was stronger. I sank my teeth into his finger, hard enough for him to feel how serious my protest was.

"Fuck!" His gaze darkened, but Giovanni noticed instantly.

“What was that?” he asked, his voice tinged with irritation.

“Nothing,” Alessandro answered curtly, though I could hear the faint anger in his tone.

Giovanni didn’t relent. “You sure?” Then he pressed further. “Are you with her?”

I seized the moment and pushed myself up slightly, trying to move out of his reach—but in one swift motion, he forced me back down, his strength leaving no doubt that I stood no chance.“Stay where you are,” he whispered, low and threatening, his face close to mine before he spoke into the phone.

“Yes, I’m with her,” he finally said, his voice calm, but I could tell the words came with difficulty.

I froze, unable to stop turning his words over in my mind. "With her."

This Giovanni knew about me. Alessandro had spoken of me. My initial tension slowly dissolved as an entirely new thought took root: I was more to him than I’d realized. I meant enough that he had brought me into his world, that he had mentioned me—and apparently had no fear of Giovanni knowing.

Giovanni was silent for a moment, then a soft, amused laugh crackled through the line. Alessandro closed his eyes, exhaled audibly, and rubbed his forehead with two fingers, visibly losing patience. “Yeah, Giovanni, real funny,” he said dryly.

But Giovanni wasn’t so easily brushed off. “Tell me,” he began, his voice grinning, “you having trouble over there? Sounds like your little Amazon isn’t quite under control. Need some pointers?”

Alessandro paused, and his gaze dropped to me. I felt my body tense as he suddenly flashed a broad, insolent grin. “My Amazon?” he repeated, laughing so I could hear. “She’s still putting up a fight, but she’ll learn. Eventually.”

I made a muffled sound of outrage beneath his hand, my protest unmistakable, but Alessandro only tightened his grip and arched an amused brow. “Hear that? She’s still practicing her defiance,” he taunted lightly as Giovanni laughed on the other end.

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