Page 72 of Bloody Savage God
In our world, loyalty and family are supposed to be unanimous, but he broke that rule. Broke that trust. The images flood my mind. My father’s body. The attacker I strangled to death. It all comes back to me in vivid detail. And so does my rage.
Because he has made me distrust my own men. Made me doubt even Eric and Mia.
With one swift motion, I raise the weapon, feeling its power surge through me as I take aim at his head. My finger tightens around the trigger and suddenly everything slows down. He takes a deep breath, desperation etched across his face. The moment hangs there for what feels like an eternity… then I pull the trigger.
The sound of gunfire echoes through the room as a rush of adrenaline surges through my veins. A single bullet pierces through his skull and his lifeless body sacks into the chair like a broken doll, only held in place by the restraints.
It’s done.
From behind me, Mikhail’s arms envelop me. He’s one of the most brutal people in this city, but right now he’s a comfort.
Mateo takes a step forward, but I shake my head.
Mikhail is more family than my uncle ever was to me, because he knew what I needed. Delivered it to me, sacrificing his own revenge to give me mine.
I lean back, knowing that when the tension inside me builds again, I have Mikhail to turn to, and we’ll ride the high of the violent release that’s sure to come.
This feeling of safety? It shouldn’t happen in the presence of a man like Mikhail, but I wasn’t raised in a normal family. I learned what love truly means when, at fourteen, my father let me take that shot myself after that asshole soldier touched me in our own kitchen.
Mikhail did the same.
But my family isn’t the only thing that requires consideration.
“You know your father won’t accept this.” I say, ignoring for a moment that we have an audience.
I can feel more than hear Mikhail chuckle behind me, his chest vibrating against my back. “You want to have the relationship chat right now?”
I grin, keeping my eyes on the hole in Mario’s forehead that still leaks blood like a small fountain. It could almost be considered romantic; given he was delivered to me like a present.
“We’re getting married,” I declare with a finality that brokers no arguments.
Mikhail’s chuckles subside, his arms tightening closer around me.
“My father would have wanted a Catholic wedding.”
For about two seconds Mikhail holds himself perfectly still, then he let’s go of me, bursting out in laughter. Turning around I see him bend over, trying to catch his breath.
“Seriously?” I ask, ready to slap him across his grinning face.
“Sorry, sorry,” he gasps. “I mean, fuck, of course we’ll marry, but hell, Gianna, after all the shit we’ve done together, you really think we should go into a freaking church?”
“Worried you’ll burn as you cross the threshold?”
He stands up tall, his eyes meeting mine. “I’d burn for you any day.”
And if that doesn’t give me a hell of a lot of fun ideas as to what we might do on our wedding night, I’ll truly be damned.
I smirk at him, the adrenaline from the kill still coursing through my veins. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Mikhail steps closer, his eyes darkening with desire. “We should celebrate our engagement properly, you know?”
I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “And how would we do that?”
Behind me, Mateo coughs again. “I think I’d better step outside.”
The cottage door opens and shuts, but I ignore it, my entire focus now on the man who has become the gravity that centers my life. And it happened in less time than I ever would have thought possible.
Mikhail leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “We could go downstairs. Celebrate in style.”
