Jilted Mistress? I Am The Mafia Queen

ly

icked open with such force it splintered

, his gaze sweeping over my trembling form, a c

s scraped against the grout as he crouched, his shadow swallowing the bathroom light. He grabbed

y exposed skin, but my hands trembled t

ve me. He started recording, documenting my broken state t

p as a shard of glass, suddenly

dered, her tone leaving no room for argument, wanting t

to snatch the phone from his grip. Ryan laughed and took a casual step backward, easily moving out of my reac

ed vision, hot tears tracing pat

my voice a raw crack in the silence. "What happe

of detachment, the muscles a

," he said. "I've already shown you enough mercy by letting you live

n seized my body, s

in raw, unfi

me before my vision dimmed at the edges and I

e, a sound so devoid of warmth it seem

ne lacquered with disdain. She praised her own generosity, adding with a pretense of m

e of his expensive leather sho

a for her merc

ut, tasting copper a

halfway off the floor. He shook me so

owled, his fingers diggin

pain, I forced my mouth to open. I

ad striking the ceramic with a dull crack. He turned his b

ound of my own sobs echoi

I remembered how Ryan used to be a low-level Soldier who stood between me and the street thugs who wanted to hu

air washed over me, draini

ical parents I had just found-the

dragged my heavy arm across the floor, every inch a battle against the encroa

brushed the smooth

f it grinding the small bones of my fingers into

er all. He had bee

eam in my throat as the edges of