“Hell. No,” he repeated. “Bilan, that’s my body. It’s been branded by me and my child. You think I’m going to spend a moment giving a fuck about a scar and pooch? That shit is mine; all of it.” “It’s horrid.” “It tells the crazy muthafucka who tries after me that I demolished your ass, and his demise would follow soon after.” His arms moved fluidly to keep him afloat. Another sign of his confidence. “You’re mine, Bilan. I’m sorry to say. That scar is proof of it, baby girl.” “You don’t mean that.” “You’re marked. By me.” His declaration was final. “Now get your ass in here.”
