Page 33 of Tempting My Mafia Monster

My body convulsed as if it had been yanked out of the depths of deep water.

I blinked. The effort was mammoth. Every muscle in my body ached. The stone ceiling, covered in green moss and beads of damp clinging to it like cold sweat, came into blurry view. I blinked again, seeing shapes. Movement. Bodies.

They were moving too fast. My brain couldn’t process the way the shadows stretched and warped.

My ears started ringing, high-pitched and shrill, before the noise gave way. A struggle. Shouting. Aggression.

Conditioned violence forced my body upright, but it wouldn’t obey; every limb felt like a sack of sand. I rolled off the bed and onto the cold floor, groaning as the ache in my ribs flared. Good. Pain was real. I focused on it, dragging myself back. The blurry shadows became outlines; their movements still frantic. Four. No. One by the door. Three were moving out of the bunker, carrying… her.

Move. Hands. Knees. One foot, hand on the bed, then the other foot. Stand.

Everything pulsed. For a second, I was back in the hole with no way out.

Soraya.

My senses sharpened. Adrenaline surged through my veins. I grabbed the knife from the floor as I stumbled forward.

The guard turned, his eyes wide as he spotted me. He dived for the heavy iron door, trying to pry it shut. I wedged my boot between the frame and flung it open with everything I had left. It smashed into his face, sending him stumbling back as he fumbled at his holster for his gun. My hand moved faster than my thoughts, and the blade cut across his throat in one clean, vicious line.

That was all it took for the fog to clear. My body reconnected with my brain. Instinct replaced confusion, and violence replaced emptiness. My feet pounded up the stairs two at a time into the morning light.

I spotted three men dragging her towards the ruins of the old slaughterhouse beside the abandoned farmhouse. She was fighting against them with everything she had while one of them had their fist twisted in her hair and another pinned her arms behind her back.

Something inside me snapped. I didn’t need the Raw Mercy to know that I was about to end every one of their lives. I didn’t shout. I didn’t warn them.

I sprinted.

The first man heard my boots too late. The knife plunged into his back, twisted and then was yanked out before he even saw my face. Slamming into the man who was holding her arms, I hooked my bicep around his throat and yanked him backwards, forcing him to let go of her. The knife jammed into his jaw, and I ripped it sideways, spilling blood down his chest as he fell to his knees.

The third man released her, sending her tumbling to the ground as he reached for his gun. The shot was desperate and clumsy. It missed my shoulder by a few inches as I stalked towards him and grabbed his arm, slamming it over my knee as I punched his face until the gun fell to the ground. He raced backward in panic, crashing through the wooden slaughterhouse doors and falling onto his arse. I grabbed him by his throat and hurled him into the rusted meat hooks hanging from the ceiling. A scream tore from him as one embedded in his right shoulder. I grabbed another and shoved it into his stomach, ripping his torso, spilling blood and organs. Then I pulled the chains, hoisting him into the air and left him swinging there to suffer an agonising death.

I turned to find her sitting on the ground by the entrance, leaning back on her hands and staring at me with those wide hazel eyes.

Blood dripped from my fingertips. My vision narrowed to her trembling body. For a second, I thought she would run from the monster before her. But she didn’t. Her lips parted, and she whispered my name.

It was enough to send me charging towards her and falling to my knees. I brushed a curl from her face, smearing blood across her cheek as she stared into my eyes.

“Did they hurt you?” My voice sounded wrecked. Like a man close to destruction.

When she shook her head, my shoulders dropped a little. I slipped one arm under her knees and the other around her back, then lifted her. My chest ached when she threw her arms around my neck and buried her face into me as I marched us back towards the bunker.

More soldiers had raced to the scene, their faces pale at what I had done. Let that be a lesson to them. A display of what I was capable of if they ever tried to touch her again. I kept my eyes on the steps leading down to the bunker, not on the guns pointed at me. Not one of them would pull the trigger. They wouldn’t dare kill McKenna’s most prized possession.

I stepped over the lifeless guard and into our room, slamming the door shut behind me. After placing her carefully on the bed, I crouched and inspected her face, brushing my fingers over her skin and then down her neck. I knew she couldn’t talk yet. I’d figured out a while ago that was how her body protected her in life-threatening situations. She withdrew until she felt safe again.

I lifted the black hoodie of mine she was wearing to check her stomach and searched her legs, needing to make sure she wasn’t injured. She had marks from their hands and a few cuts from the gravel, which made a possessive fury coil tight in my chest, but other than that, she looked unharmed.

She reached for my wrist, and I froze. Her dainty fingers curled around it, and she brought my hand to her mouth, holding my gaze.

My heart hadn’t calmed, even though I had her back with me. When she brushed her lips against my bloodstained fingertips, it felt like it was about to explode from my ribcage. She kissed each one, covering her lips in blood, before she sucked my index finger into her mouth.

We held each other’s gazes through the charged atmosphere, my chest heaving and my dick thickening. She’d just witnessed me mercilessly murder three men (four, including the guard), and she was cleaning their blood from my fingers.

My twisted, brave Little Monster.

My nostrils flared at the sudden power of one word infecting the blood in my veins, fusing with the marrow of my bones and filling a dark void at the very depths of me.

Mine.