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We’re desperate, and you can't blame a desperate man for what he does with a weapon in his hand, especially when it comes to Shayne Mariano.
If this fucker doesn’t start talking and tell me where the hell my girl is, he won’t live to see another sunrise, let alone another fucking minute.
It’s one thing to have one DeAngelis brother at breaking point, but to push all three of us to the edge and threaten to push us over, that means heads will roll, blood will be spilled, and patience will be tested—patience that not one of us possess.
My jaw clenches, every moment of Roman’s dramatics just adding another second before I can finally get to my girl.
Roman has shoved his dick into the most questionable places over the years, but he’d never risk it getting bitten off like this.
Fuck. What the hell is wrong with me? She just died after being held hostage and giving birth in a cell. Her baby was stolen from my very arms just moments after promising her that I would keep him safe. I’m a walking fucking curse.
Roman and Levi were trying to torture me … well, there was really no trying about it. They did it and they sure as hell succeeded. If they were graded, they would’ve received top marks for every aspect. Creepy comments. Tick. Sharp knives. Tick. Letting me think that I might just survive only to pull the rug out from under me. Tick, tick, fucking tick. What can I say? Those boys excel at everything they do, and torture is one of their many talents.
he warns me. “You’re going to scream for me, baby. Is that understood?” Holy fuck. Yes, sir.
“You like that, baby?” he mutters, the wicked tone in his voice filled with a deep hunger
the word “Mine,” tears from his lips.
“Sleep now,” he tells me, more than coming through on his challenge to make me forget. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll hold you all night long if you need me to.” And without another word, the safety of his strong arms comes over me and I fall into a long, dreamless sleep, the monsters and demons of my mind finally put to rest.
“I told you no,” Marcus says. “I heard your ‘no’ loud and clear and decided that you can go and fuck yourself with a machete,” I say,
“Fucking hell, Shayne. Don’t you think I’ve learned anything over the past few months? I didn’t want you putting yourself in that position because every fucking time you step out of our grasps, I’m terrified that I’m going to fucking lose you. I don’t want you to do it because I don’t want you to get hurt. I’m not trying to control you, babe. I want to fucking live for you.”
“Don’t you dare,” I spit at him, hating how he doubts himself. “Every single one of these scars were out of your control, and you’ve done everything you can to get vengeance for every fucking one of them. Now cut your bullshit and man the fuck up. I did what I did, and now it’s time to see it through.”
“I came for the bitch,” he spits, choosing to go out in typical douchebag style. “She took what was mine.” Roman fixes him with a hard stare. “Come on, now. You know the rules. If you lose your bitch, that’s on you. Mine isn’t for sale.”
“Fuck me,” Marcus breathes in adoration, taking in the chainsaw in my hand. “You’re my fucking queen. Have I ever told you that?” I grin back at him and raise my brows. “And here I thought you were mad at me.”
“You are vile, are you aware of this?” I ask. “It would be my absolute pleasure to rid this world of you.” “Fuck you,” he spits. “Look, I hadn’t planned on ramming anything up your ass. That wasn’t in today’s schedule,” I tell him as I step toward him and tear his shirt down the center, letting it hang open. “But if you insist, I’d be more than happy to oblige.”
I’m not surprised by his fear of being fucked in the ass. Guys like that usually are. The idea of throwing a woman down and raping her repeatedly is cool, but the second his asshole is involved, he goes running like a fucking bitch. It irritates me. People who can’t take what they dish out are the weakest type of humans.
“Holy shit,” I roar, glancing back at Marcus. “Did you see that?” “Sure did, baby,” he says, cheering me on.
I feel a wave of darkness consuming my soul, and I know without a doubt that what I just did has cost me dearly, but I can't find it within myself to care.
“Shayne Mariano,” he breathes, almost as though the words are hard to say. “I am so fucking in love with you.”
“I am in complete awe of your beauty, your strength, and your no bullshit determination. The way you’ve come into my world, grabbed it by the fucking horns, and stepped up to the challenge. Fuck, Shayne, you have captured me in a way that no other has ever done, and I promise you, from now until my dying days, that I will serve you with every fucking beat of my dead heart.”
“You’re mine,” he rumbles, the words speaking right to my heart. “When I fuck you, you’re mine.” I nod. “Yours.”
I let out a deep breath, holding onto Marcus with everything I have as he meets my sated stare. “You and me, baby. We’re going to make this world our bitch.”
“It’s inevitable. You’re into Roman, and that’s cool, but you should know the way he looks at you … baby, he never looked at Felicity like that. He’s just fucked up right now. He’s angry and he’ll never fucking admit it, but it’s there. You’ve fucked with all of our heads.” My brow arches and I shake my head. “You don’t think you’ve done the same to me, oh creepy one?” I murmur,
“What does it say about me if I were to admit I’d fallen in love with a savage like you?” Marcus’ lips pull into a wicked grin against mine. “It’d say that you’re no longer visiting the dark side, Shayne, you fucking own it.”
I search through every streaming app until I finally find what I’m looking for—serial killer documentaries. Now this is my jam.
As bad as it sounds, being ten years old, home and alone with no food were the best nights of my childhood.
Hell, today’s chainsaw experiment was a complete disaster, though I got the job done and managed to get a confession of love at the same time. I guess it was technically a success. Shit, am I no better than the guys in these documentaries?
Marcus lets out a frustrated sigh and fumes at the TV. “How the hell did Jake get a documentary? I mean … where the fuck is my documentary? I’ve made much more exciting kills than that guy. These are all the same. They’re boring. Now me? I’m a fucking star. I deserve to be on that screen, plus have you ever seen me on camera? I’m photogenic as fuck. That’d be the best goddamn documentary anyone had ever seen.”
“I don’t know if you noticed this, babe, but I’ve been fucking crazy about you since you tried to throw yourself off the roof of the castle, then demanded I fuck you right then and there.”
“And you’re a brat,” he fires back. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way. I don’t know when, and I sure as fuck don’t know how, but you made me fall in love with you, Shayne, and it honestly scares the shit out of me because I’m still waiting for you to realize that we’re no good for you. You’re going to get up and leave at some point, and it’s going to fucking kill me.”
“Like I said,” he murmurs, his dark, intense eyes boring into mine. “You’re going to be trouble.” “Damn straight, I am,” I grin. “But trouble is fun, and you’re a sucker for a good time.” “I’m a fucking sucker for you.”
“That I have a weakness for women in chains and lingerie and you like to make deals with devils and the two just sorta … meshed together, and the rest was history.”
“See how fucking stunning you are?” he tells me, flipping the blade over in his hand, letting the sharp tip dig into his palm as he presses the curved handle to my collarbone.
Levi’s eyes blaze like molten lava and the responding grin that tears across his face is like waking up on Christmas morning. “For you,” he tells me. “Anything.”
“Don’t you dare give up on your son,” I seethe, spitting the words through my clenched jaw. “This isn’t over yet. Felicity’s dying wish was for that baby to be kept safe. I gave her my word. Don’t you dare make me a liar, Roman DeAngelis.
Did he really think that the boys wouldn’t track Giovanni here? That they wouldn’t hold him personally responsible for allowing Giovanni to take off with Roman’s newborn son. Shit, this motherfucker is done for.
I can only imagine what they have in store for him, and damn it, it shouldn’t excite me the way it does, but what can I say? The boys have well and truly dragged me kicking and screaming over to the dark side, and I’m not gonna lie, I kinda like it over here.
It’s going to be hard, fast, and angry. This won’t be about pleasure. It won’t be about coming, and hell, it’ll probably even hurt, but I welcome it.
he’ll do the right thing. He always does … you know, when he’s not doing things like murdering people and kidnapping innocent women from their shitty apartments.
“I ain’t talking about the sex, babe. The fact that you got through to him like that, made him see reason and calm down when his whole fucking world is caving in on him. He’s going to try and take you for himself, and you’ll be so fucking blinded by it that you’ll go willingly.”
“That will never happen,” I murmur, brushing my lips against his. “It’s not possible because a life without you by my side isn’t a life worth living.”
“Have I told you how fucking gorgeous you are when you’re sleeping?” “Should I be creeped out about the serial killer watching me while I sleep?” He brings the tip of the stick out and taps it gently against the drum. “Always,” he says,
“Bite that fucking lip again,” he scolds me, his tone deeper than I’ve ever heard it. I obey right away,
“Now what?” I purr, holding the ice cube between my fingers and letting the chilled water drip over my body. “Play.” One word is all he needs.
“Spread those fucking legs, baby,” he murmurs. “I’m hungry.”
My mouth barely fits around my burger as I struggle to take a bite. I don’t know why I made it this freaking big, but there were just too many options. What can I say? I’m a girl who likes a little bit of everything … or maybe a lot.
“You’re right,” I tell him, copying his same bored tone. “You’re not my man. You’re a scared little boy who refuses to take what he wants because his own fucked-up emotions and daddy issues have left him shaking in his boots.”
“Fucking hell, babe,” he says, dropping back onto the couch and pulling me down with him. “If we’re going to the deepest pits of hell, then you better fucking believe that we’re dragging you right along with us.” A grin plasters across my face and I turn into him, pressing my lips to his as his fingers lock onto the small zipper on my back. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
