Disguised to kill the mafia heir

s POV (

po di

e field we wer

canvas made for

t enough of my teeth to make it uncl

low, savoring the syllables as if they

is breath rattling as I drove the life out of him. The g

or's dominance. But arrogance was my armor, and cruelty was sharper than steel.

ng curiosity, but every

low, deliberate, "or are you too much of

I saw his composure tremble-just enough to

ser, his shadow falling over me like a th

hing the expression unt

nsion, his tone neutral, clinic

er mixing with the iron tang already on my tongue. My

tle cut

than I expected. A blur of muscle and

th sharp, the rush of wind from h

eath, adrenaline spiking. He wasn't j

t his fist met me square in the

ure crushi

my lungs, bones humming with the force. My footwear skidded in

arp and electric

center, sent flying-was years ago. Years. And I'd

mming, staring at Matteo with a slow,

o the ground like an offering, "

twisted sharper, hi

did yo

ply came sharp and fast-fists slicing through the sp

ground beneath us trembling wi

end a lesser man. They cracked through the air with enough force to ratt

-fast, vicious, intending to tear him down from his arrogant heig

brutal hook meant to crush me to the dirt. My body bent ba

s, the crowd's hush th

e after my first strike. But you-" he tilted his

tongue savoring the metallic taste. "Those aren't punches. I

he crimson streak sme

me punch has you bleedi

ng through my veins. Blood sang in me. Muscles burned alive

to break beneath his fists. But I wasn't. I was something

I straightened, shoulders rolling b

e?" I purred, voice slicing bet

ts ros

mmed into my ribs before I could twist away. A sicken

devil himself, voi

ed to my face, lips curling with disdain. "That androgynous mug of yours? Don't worry-I'll fix it. My punches don't just

No. It couldn't be fear.

t when I hadn't eve

gry. I twisted, ducked, dodged, his l

ists striking the air inches from my face. "Where

ed, every step of retreat s

something far worse. If it broke further, if I collapsed, I'd be dragged off t

ought was all it too

slammed into my spine, and in an ins

face as his fists hammered down. Every strike rattled m

n't go down

ack-and I snapped forwa

impact sile

is lip. He froze, then turned back slowly, eyes bu

his. That one night flooded back. His hands hadn't been fists then. His weight hadn't been a cage

m I thinking a

blow, ready to feel my

. His jaw clenched, eyes unreadable, and wit

. Every gaze burned into

tle split th

t is over." His eyes swept me, lingering with something like disdain befor

. Not l

blade, the silence, the way his breath leaves his chest. But brawling like an idiot

rough my chest, sharp and relentless, but I forced my body to stand t

oom," he said flat

miliation heavier than the injury. When we reached the first floor

on the first floor." His eyes flicked toward me, hard and cutting. "But remember this-anyone can

blade at my throat befo

ion, anger, all blurring together-before I followed the numbers

e corner. Nothing impressive, nothing comfortable. The kind of space meant

through my ribs. I clutched at them instinctive

anaged to get myself broken on the very first day.

My body tensed, and I moved with caution,

heart s

aid supplies, was the last fac

to

red me into a thousand pi

at him, every old