I’ve brushed my hair back into a sleek, lower bun. I get dressed in one of the white dresses Mrs. Molina bought for me. It’s beautiful. No sleeves, a large V cut between the cleavage. Slim at the waist and snug around my breasts and hips.

It almost reminds me of a wedding dress—a really cheap one, but for someone with only pennies to rub together, it would be perfect.

As I stare at my reflection in the mirror, I feel my eyes burn, remembering my old wedding gown, wondering where it must be. One of the maids must have tossed it after that very first shower I took here. I haven’t seen it since.

I quickly blink the tears away and step out of the bathroom. It’s the past. I won’t dwell. I walk to the door, and when I open it, Patanza is waiting across the hallway with her arms folded.

“He’s waiting for you,” she murmurs.

I nod. “I know. I couldn’t decide what to wear.”

She looks me up and down. “I say that dress is a little too clean for today.”

“What do you mean?”

She puts on a light smile. “I think you already know.”

Right. The cells. Bain. Francesca. Death.

Instead of walking down the steps, she continues forward and I follow closely behind.

“Patanza, can I ask you a question?”

She glances sideways but doesn’t meet my eyes. I notice hers are really light. Hazel. “Depends on what you’re asking.”

“How did you learn English, if you’ve been here your whole life?”

I catch up at her side, and she finally looks over at me. She stops in front of a set of French doors, where we can both see Draco standing near the railing with his cellphone glued to his ear. His back is to us, the wind tousling loose strands of his thick, black hair.

She watches him carefully before speaking. “He taught me. I knew Jefe young. If I couldn’t be stronger, he wanted me to be smarter than the men. The guys like Bain and Guillermo and . . . Pico, they learned on their own because they took trips to the United States often.”

“Have you ever been there before?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “No.” And then she smiles. “But it would be nice to go.”

I half-shrug. “There are a lot of fun things to do there.”

“Jefe says he’ll let me go one day. But he said that three years ago. I’m sure he thinks I’m safer here, and honestly, he might be right.”

We both look over as Draco turns around and glances at the door. He flicks his fingers, gesturing for us to come out.

“Maybe I can talk him into taking you one day.” I grin. “Taking us.”

She smiles back, but barely. I can tell she wants to grin just as hard as I do, but she’s too accustomed to looking and being hard. She has to seem as if her heart has been carved from stone. “Jefe isn’t as lenient with his guards as you think. We have to earn rewards like that. Going to the U.S. is pretty much a vacation.” She grips the doorknob and opens the door.

“Well, I personally think you’ve more than earned it.”

She doesn’t respond to that. I don’t expect her to.

As soon as she opens the door, the humid beach air brushes past me, making the loose tendrils of my hair twist with the wind. Draco hears us, and when he peers over his shoulder again, he locks those hard eyes right on me.

He continues talking on the phone, but he doesn’t dare pull his gaze away. His eyes travel up and down, his face solid, eyes blazing. I’m not sure what he’s thinking.

Maybe it’s about the shower last night.

Or perhaps he really likes this dress on me.

Or maybe he simply disapproves of it for what I know is going to happen today.

He says something in Spanish on the phone and then he hangs up. He finally looks away from me and tosses the phone to Patanza.

“Get rid of this one. Bring me another,” he orders.

She bobs her head and walks away from the terrace. I watch her go down the hallway until she steps around the corner and disappears.

“Sit, Gianna,” he murmurs from where he stands by the railing. I pull my chair out and sit at the two-top table that’s made of red and black Mexican tile. As I sit, he takes the chair across from me and then slouches back, studying my face carefully. Every detail of it is absorbed, from my forehead to my nose, and down to my chin. “This is how I expect you to dress around here from now on. Tastefully. Beautifully.” He rolls the last word off his tongue.

I fidget in my seat and look toward the ocean. “This is nice,” I say with a quiet voice.

He gazes around. There is a boat out there, not too far away. We hear its horn blare from a distance.

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

“A little.”

He picks up a black device with buttons on it and presses the green one. Soon, I hear wheels rolling and then the butlers appear. Two butlers come out with rolling carts covered in white linens. On top of them is a load of food—way too much for both of us.

One of the butlers slightly bows his head at Draco as he places white plates down in front of us and then slides the cart closer for us to reach.

“Enjoy, Jefe,” he murmurs in Spanish.

The other butler lingers around with a pitcher of orange juice and milk on his cart. Draco goes for the orange juice. I decide to go for the milk.

“Leave us,” Draco orders and the butler finally takes off, shutting the doors behind him.

When he grabs his food first, I take what I want—a few grapes, some toast with butter and strawberry jelly, and honey-glazed Canadian bacon.

He picks up a slice of the bacon and I notice his knuckles are raw and red. I can tell he wore the brass knuckles again today. Actually, I know he did. They were missing from that weapon wall in his room this morning when I got dressed.

“Did you hit him again? Your cousin?” I probe.

He peers up, chewing what’s left in his mouth before responding. “Got a few punches in. Hoping it will get him to realize how foolish he’s been.”

“You aren’t going to kill him, are you?”

He stacks his spine and then straightens his tie, slightly rolling his neck. “It may seem crazy of me—the stuff that I do to people—but I think I’m a considerably reasonable person.”

I cock a brow, giving him a you’re-so-full-of-shit look. That didn’t answer my question one bit.

He clears his throat. “I don’t know.” He pauses, watching me pop a grape into my mouth. “My cousin has to know that his place is to be backing me up. He needs to know this is serious. Hernandez is dirty and catty. He never should have made a fool of himself by showing up here empty-handed.”

I stop eating. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

“Because you are my woman now. La Patrona. You get to know everything that is going on, even if you don’t like it. I—never had anyone talk me in or out of things. I always made the decisions myself. Besides my father, there was no one to steer me. When I saw you in that cellar and that greasy, fat fuck all over you, I lost it,” he bites out. “You were mine and he was stupid enough to take you anyway.”

I wince, but barely. I think he notices. He studies me briefly before speaking again.

“When I saw it, it made me livid. My woman and this piece of shit—he knew the rules. He knew how badly I did not want you being touched but he touched you anyway. I saw that look in your eye. I was going to drag him out of there and take him back to the cells—torture him for a while and then kill him—but you gave me a look. You might not remember, but it happened, niñita. It was almost like you were telling me to do it. To kill him right there. Right now. You didn’t have to say it for me to know. I knew that was exactly what you wanted without having to ask.”

“I—no. I mean, yes, I wanted him gone, but I don’t remember thinking that.”

“You didn’t have to think it. With shit like that, after what was done to you, you don’t think. You just do. You were in survival mode, and you chose wisely. I wanted you to be the one to end Francesca and Bain. I wanted you to have that glory, but I can’t taint you. Lion never would have let you seek revenge. He’d keep you under wraps—probably let you watch, but he wouldn’t let you lift a finger. He would owe it to you to kill them, so I will do just that. In less than an hour, you will come down to the shed and you will watch me kill them. You won’t run. You won’t turn away. You will watch, and you will know that afterwards, you are safe with me. That what I do to them, I can easily do to the next motherfucker that crosses us the wrong way.” He tips my chin and our eyes hold. “Do you understand me, Gianna?”

“I don’t know if I can, Draco,” I murmur.

“You have to. For yourself. For me.”

His last statement catches me off guard. “For you?”

“We do this together or not at all. I’m sure you don’t want them to keep living. We don’t want that burden on our backs. They have to go.”

I release a ragged breath. I glance at my food and I’m suddenly no longer hungry. It feels like lead has been placed in my stomach. “I know they do. But I’m not used to watching so many people die all at once.” Toni was enough. Even Kevin was enough.

“After them, you won’t have to. Unless we are threatened, you won’t see another death happen in front of you.”

I don’t speak. Not for a while. I watch him, how he rubs the pad of his thumb and forefinger together. “Do you get satisfaction in doing this? Killing people?”

He half shrugs, picking up his orange juice. He lifts his leg and places his ankle on top of his knee. “Keeping strong threats alive makes you weak. They know too much, which makes them a bigger and stronger threat. If they escaped and ran to the wrong person, I would be fucked. But getting rid of them myself, and knowing those dangerous threats are gone, helps me sleep a little better at night. You’ll learn soon, Gianna. This life doesn’t come easy, but if you work with me, well, together we can become unstoppable. You just have to get the rest of your fire back, that’s all. And when you do, I want to be a witness.” He chuckles. “I’ve heard the stories from Lion. You play the good girl, but you’ll dirty your hands in a heartbeat if it means protecting yourself or someone you care about.”

I frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” he taunted. “Eighth grade, a bully named Sarah Cully. She pushed you off the slide and you came after her, pushed her off a swing, kicked her in the stomach, and then punched her in the face. The teacher didn’t see so you were proud. You told your father all about it as soon as he picked you up and he was just as proud. His fierce little cub.”

I narrow my eyes. “He told you that story?”

“Wouldn’t be the first story he shared with me about you. We were closer than you think.”

“I see.”

Someone knocks on the door. It’s Patanza with his new burn phone.

He sighs and drops his legs. After taking a sip of his juice, he places the glass down and then dusts himself off. “You finish eating. I have a phone call to make but it will be quick.”

I bob my head as he stands. “Kay.”

He kisses the top of my head. When he leaves, I collect a deep breath and then exhale.

I know he’s right. And deep down I want them gone, but I don’t want to see it happen. I have nightmares, all of them gory at best.

They deserve this, I know it, but no matter how I look at it, that will be their blood on my hands.

* * *

It’s time.

I’m not sure whether to freak the fuck out or run. Perhaps I should have hidden somewhere. This walk down to the shed is terrifying.

I thought I would have more time, but as soon as Draco made his phone call, he came back, saw I had finished eating, and then grabbed my hand, murmuring, “Come on, my queen. It’s time.”

Reina. Patrona. Queen and Boss. I was never going to get used to any of these names.

They just didn’t fit me . . . well, they didn’t fit the old me.

As for the new me, I’m not sure how they will fit. If I want to survive, they must. It’s just a matter of what I do to claim the titles.

My entire body feels heavy, as if gravity has weighed down most on me. Draco is walking beside me, Patanza in front of us with her gun clutched in hand, and Diego behind us, jaw tight, his tan, bald head shining from the golden rays above.

I had already noticed the silver handgun tucked in Draco’s belt. He also had the brass knuckles in his shirt pocket, and what looked like a knife in a leather case on the other side of his belt.

Seeing the long knife in its case made my blood run cold. I have no idea what it looks like, but I’m certain it’s sharp and deadly. Draco’s weapons are not toys. They are dangerous and just as intimidating as he is.

“Draco . . .” I whisper when we take the bridge across. Only a few more steps. I remember this walk, from the first day I was free, trailing behind Patanza like some lost puppy.

“Sí, Gianna?”

I peer up at him. His face is solid, eyes focused on me. His face is much too smooth for what’s about to happen. He’s way too relaxed.

Is this the way he came down when it was finally time to meet me? On that first day I ever saw him in the cells—when I so badly wanted to gut him right then and there?

Was he this confident? This sure of himself, that he would kill me too, if it came down to it?

“Never mind. It’s nothing,” I murmur with a swift shake of my head.

Before I know it, his men have come to a halt. They all stand aside and Draco finally releases my hand, lifting his head higher and walking forward.

“Ábrela,” he commands to one of them.

One of the guards opens the door rapidly. It squeals on its hinges and Draco strolls right in.

“Come, Gianna,” he calls over his shoulder. “The rest of you, stay out here,” he says to the guards in his native tongue.

I glance sideways at Patanza who has a serious mask on, but her eyes reveal all. She’s worried for me too. She’s not sure how I will handle it, and she has every right to be concerned.

This isn’t me. This isn’t me.

I’m not a killer.

That’s what I tell myself, but I’ve wanted to kill Draco ever since I heard his real name. I wanted Axe Man dead way before he ever stole my passion. And Bain—I wanted him gone a long, long time ago.

It’s not the same—to want it—as it is doing it. Doing it takes you to a whole new level of evil—an evil that you cannot come back from.

I know for a fact. Daddy used to tell me all the time.

“Murdering someone can change your entire life,” he’d said to me when I threatened to kill a boy who’d stolen my bike. I didn’t know what I was saying. All the murder talk I heard from Daddy’s mindless adult conversations made my mind a sponge. “Murdering someone is damning your soul to hell for all eternity. Unless you’re ready to face the fire and that dirty red devil, be a good girl and let it go. I’ll get you a new bike, sweet girl. Don’t worry about it.”

And he did buy me a new bike. That very same night. I also heard the boy was sent to the hospital after being severely beaten.

I’m not prepared to damn my soul to hell. I am a good person. I have a good heart. Right?

* * *

There are two cells, I notice.

One is empty. I don’t see any trace of Ronaldo.

The other has his captives. His betrayers. Francesca and Bain.

He opens the gate with a key, and when he steps in, I linger outside the gate. I can hardly tell it’s them. Francesca has on a blue dress that is now soiled with old blood and ripped at the hem. There is dry blood between her thighs, as if she’s been raped brutally or maybe she started her period and couldn’t prevent the leakage.

Of course she couldn’t. Her wrists are locked in cuffs that are built into the walls, as well as Bain’s.

He has no shirt on, wounds all over his chest as if he’s been whipped and cut by the sharpest knives around. They’re both dirty. Filthy. Bloody. I never thought I would see them so low.

I walk in behind Draco, and Francesca immediately starts to speak.

“Jefe, please!” she begs in Spanish. “This wasn’t my idea. None of it was. It was all them. I just wanted to be free! I wanted to go home!”

Draco presses forward, moving slowly toward her with measured steps.

Bain glares at him, but even harder at me.

I don’t avoid his eyes. As badly as I want to look away, I don’t. I want him to see that I’m the one at Draco’s side now. I was once a pawn in this game, but now I’m the one playing it.

“I promise you,” she whimpers when he stops in front of her. “I don’t love him. I love you, baby. Only you, you know that! I would never betray you. I only wanted out, and I knew you wouldn’t let me go because you care for me so much.”

Draco scoffs. “Care? Bitch, I don’t give a single fuck about you.”

She seems shocked to hear that. Her eyes stretch wider, her face going pale. Wow. Does she really think he loves her? Is she in that much denial?

“You’re angry now, and I get that. I do! But all I need is another chance. I—I can make this up. I can do better. I won’t harm her or you. I will be good. I promise!”

“Just shut up,” Draco mutters.

“Please, Jefe, please! I am meant for you! You know it! You bought me out of the kindness of your heart, and you never acted like you regretted it until she came along!”

“I said shut up, Francesca!”

“She may be prettier, but I can do you better. I can make up for what I’ve done. I can love you, but she can’t! You killed her husband! You ruined her life! Can’t you see she’s only using you to live, Draco! I would never do that to you because I need you!”

Fed up, he charges for her, snatching out the knife from his holder. It’s just as sharp—if not sharper than I expected. Silver and thick. “Hold out your fucking tongue. Now!” he barks. “I’ll make sure you don’t say another fucking word.”

She flinches with thick tears in her eyes, but she doesn’t resist. She can’t, really. She sticks her tongue out, and he pinches the end of it as tightly as he can while she wails. Clutching the handle of the knife, he slices right through it. Her scream is full of agony as the blood gushes out. It’s a shrill scream—one I’m sure I will never forget.

I want to look away, but I can’t. I’m frozen.

When he’s done, I hear her tongue land with a wet slap on the floor. My blood runs cold as I hear her cries for help, the crimson pouring down like a waterfall.

He wipes the knife off on her stained blue dress and then turns to look at Bain. “Your turn.” He looks him over. Bain challenges his stare.

“Look at you,” Bain chuckles, his voice thick and croaky, trying to straighten his back and stand taller than Draco. “Pussy whipped by this cunt. Never thought I’d see the day The Jefe killed his own men over a worthless gringa bitch.”

Draco doesn’t blink. Doesn’t speak. I grimace.

Instead, he walks past Bain, his hand touching the gun in his waistband. He starts to pull it out, but I step forward and hold a hand up, demanding that he waits.

“What the hell are you gonna do, bitch?” Bain scowls at me, his white hair oily, clinging to his forehead.

“I’m not doing anything,” I respond. “I’m just here to see you die.”

He scoffs. “What? I don’t get any last words like your driver did?”

“I think you’ve had plenty,” I say as calmly as possible.

He gives a small smirk. “I don’t think you realize just how worthless you really are.”

“Fuck you,” I spit.

“Enough.” Draco’s deep voice booms, causing Francesca to flinch. He steps in front of Bain, face-to-face with him, glaring him down. “You face death and you still talk like you’re a fucking king.” He grabs Bain by the roots of his hair and Bain hisses through gritted teeth. “You are not the king. You are not the boss. You would have tried to steal the position from me the very day I let my guard down around you. I trusted you, Bain. I gave you more than you’ve ever had in your entire life, and yet you still betrayed me.” Draco clicks his tongue. “A shame that such a smart man has to go to waste like this.”

He finally lets him go, but shoves the back of his head against the wall before stepping back. I hear the crack from the blow, almost like he’s split his skull.

“Anything else you’d like to say to him before he’s gone, Gianna?” Draco asks, looking at me through the corner of his eye as he cleans off his gun.

I step forward, mouth twitching. Oh, I have plenty to say. Just the mere sight of him is enough to send me into a black rage.

“I never did anything to you, Bain,” I proclaim. “Why would you plan to kill me? To rape me?”

“You were getting in the way. Making the boss blind to what you really are—just another piece of pussy. You were unnecessary.”

“Hmm. Well, now it seems the roles have reversed, huh?” I smile.

He grimaces. “You’re a no good, stupid, insignificant bitch with a dry cunt. Fuck you!”

I rush to him, gripping his disgusting balls in hand and squeezing them tight, until he hollers out in pain, yanking his arms and causing the chains to rattle. “You know, maybe I should cut you to pieces and sell you, instead of having him kill you, yeah?” I seethe in his ear. “Isn’t that what you wanted to do to me? Tear me apart? Get rid of me?” I squeeze them even tighter, to the point where they’ll probably burst if I hold on long enough. “These are what’s worthless. Always have been. Maybe we should get rid of them first. Let you live a little longer, so you can really see how it feels to live with no cojones. Let you see them hanging around your neck by a thread every day, until they shrivel up and turn to dust. Killing you would be satisfying, but torturing you a little more would be so much better, don’t you think?” I flash a smile up at him, still holding on tight, twisting them to make him yell again.

Veins appear on his forehead as he strains for relief, for strength, and words.

“You…” he rasps out, “are so…fucking…stupid.” He laughs hoarsely. “I can…still kill you. Still…fuck you. You leave me in here…long enough…and I’ll…find a fucking way out. And when I do…I’ll do much worse than what…Pico did to you in there. Oh, you dumb bitch, I would fuck your little cunt until even your blood can’t get it wet anymore. And even when you can’t,” he grumbles, clearly, as if he can’t feel a thing anymore, “I’d still keep going, all while I choke the life right out of you and then break the neck that he finds so fucking precious!” He laughs some more.

A cackle that rides under my skin, pricking at every nerve.

But what he does next is the final straw.

He spits in my face, continuing a sneer.

Draco tenses up, fist clenched, but he doesn’t move. He stalls, as if he’s waiting for something.

My nostrils flare as I yank my hand away from his disgusting balls and swipe the spit off my face with the back of my arm. Heat broils in my veins. I feel my heart rattling, pounding like never before—drowning out all sounds. All of my morals.

That bastard. That fucking bastard!

Furious isn’t the word.

I’ve gone beyond that.

All of my fury comes barreling out at once. All I see is red—flashes of so much red.

Flashes of my body being flung around in the cellar.

Flashes of Axe Man, taking what never belonged to him.

Flashes of Toni being killed—shot for dead.

Flashes of being stared at and disrespected.

Tormented and hounded.

Laughed at and abused.

I rush in Draco’s direction and swipe his knife out of the holder, hurrying back to Bain and lifting the sharp blade in the air.

“Gianna!” Draco bellows, but I don’t look back. I refuse. “Be wise,” he commands. “Do this, and it is something that will haunt you for the rest of your life.”

“Puta!” Bain spits and then lets out another throaty laugh.

The need for revenge is seeping out of my pores now, throttling at the knife in my hands. All I want to do is wipe that stupid fucking smirk off his face.

Before I can bother thinking it through, I do the one thing I’ve wanted most since being here.

I fucking retaliate.

I bring the blade forward and deliver a jagged slice across the middle of Bain’s throat. Blood gushes out, pouring all over my white dress, seeping down my legs, pooling on my shoes.

I don’t even care.

I still see red. So much red. I feel the hotness of it hitting my face, but I don’t back away. I want my face to be the last face he ever sees while his heartbeat slowly fades away and everything becomes dark for him.

His blood is mine. His life is mine. He thought he’d take me down? He was wrong. So very fucking wrong. I would kill a thousand times before I ever let that happen again.

I guess I’m ready for that dirty red devil to welcome me to Hell with open arms, because he’s won. Hell, I’ll sit right by his side, queen of his burning hell. It wouldn’t be long before I ended up owning him too.

That’s how great I feel, doing this, getting rid of this sick bastard.

I wanted to do him a solid, and make it easy by having Draco shoot him once in the skull. Quick and easy. But this fucker doesn’t deserve quick or easy.

He brought out the sinister side of me, a part of me that I never even knew existed. They did this—he and Axe Man.

Odd. I’m not sure if I should thank them for giving me a sense of such power, or curse their names to hell for causing what was left of my humanity to slip away with the single slice of a knife.

“Pinche mamon,” I spit out as he lowers to the ground, falling on his knees. Fucking cocksucker.

I hear Francesca cry out a muffled scream from her end.

“Gianna,” Draco calls again, but I don’t look his way. I keep staring at Bain until he’s on his knees, gurgling for dear life. He can’t grab at his throat to stop the bleeding, can’t do anything to block the pain.

Good.

When his eyelids flutter, I lower to a squat, lean forward, and murmur into his ear, “Who are you gonna sell now, puto?”

An arm grips mine a second later, and Draco pulls me up. I still don’t look at him, not until Bain’s eyes are fully sealed, and I know he’s dead.

I finally peer up at Draco with a clanging heartbeat and his jaw is ticking, eyes hard like stone. I look over at Francesca and she’s panicking, yanking on the chains, begging to be set free, with red running down her chin. She looks like a wild animal.

“Please,” I hear her muffle out, tears thick.

I blink rather slowly and start to go to her, but I can’t. Draco tugs me back, nostrils flaring as he snatches the knife away from me and wipes it off on his pants. He puts it away and then walks past me, bringing the gun up and stepping in front of Francesca.

She’s still begging for her life, even as he lifts the gun and aims the barrel at the center of her forehead. Jaw still tight, he pulls the trigger without hesitation and the gunshot echoes loudly off the walls. Chains rattle, blood spatters on the wall behind her, clumped and thick, and her body drops instantly like dead weight.

The cell becomes quiet. All is quiet, minus my heavy breathing. He turns to face me, grabbing my hand and studying my eyes. “House. Now,” is all he says, and then he drags me out behind him.

I look back at their bodies, how lifeless they are now. Sagging in chains, their arms still up. Bound. Same as I was when I first came here.

Blood. So much blood everywhere, and for some reason it doesn’t bring me much satisfaction. Not as much as I’d hoped. No, if anything, it seems they got the easy way out.

Draco takes me out of the cells without a word. He bursts out of the door, still dragging me behind, and as soon as we do, I see all of his men’s eyes stretch—not with horror, but with utter disbelief.

They didn’t think I would do it.

Well, the proof is here. All over me.

“Clean it up. Make sure there is nothing left of them,” Draco directs as he passes by with my hand still fastened in his.

They all nod, but as I pass by each set of staring eyes, one pair makes me pause.

Patanza’s.

Her eyes aren’t full of disbelief—they’re full of admiration. She’s glad that I did it?

I smirk at her before finally pulling away and catching up to Draco’s side.

He glares down at me, and there’s a flicker in his eyes—one that he’d only give to me.

Pride.

Lust.

Satisfaction.

He bustles through the house, sweeping me up in his arms when we get to the kitchen, and then rushing toward the staircase. I can feel all eyes on us, but he only has his gaze set on one person.

Me.

We’re in his bedroom in a matter of seconds. He doesn’t waver, taking me to the bathroom and immediately starting the shower.

“Get undressed,” he demands when he places me on my feet.

I step sideways as he moves backwards. I take a look into the mirror, spotting my reflection. I look horrific. My dress and even my skin are soaked with blood from the neck down, dark red splatters on my cheek and chin.

“No,” I say, voice firm.

He cocks a brow, looking me over. “What?”

“No,” I repeat, staring at my reflection again. “Take me,” I breathe. “Like this.”

His eyes flash, his tongue running over his lips when I face him. “You’re filthy with his blood,” he responds.

I smirk. “I know. That’s the point.”

His mouth clamps shut and honestly, I’m not surprised by the look I get. His eyes tell it all—a dead giveaway. Primal and fierce. I’ve just turned him on. He wants me. Bad. And he’s going to take it.

He lifts his arm and his large hand comes around the back of my neck to pull me in, looking at me from head to toe.

“You enjoyed that,” he murmurs. It’s a statement, not a question.

“Maybe I’ll enjoy this”—I tug his shirt open and the buttons scatter all over the marble floor—“a whole lot more.” I grin and that grin alone is his undoing.

Gripping my hips, he picks me up and plants my ass on top of the counter. He steps between my thighs, and I make use of my hands, unbuckling his belt, unbuttoning his pants, and shoving them down. When they’re gone, I feel the bottom of my heels digging into the backs of his thighs.

He hisses from the pain, frowning at me, but he doesn’t let up. He grips my hair and tugs back, angling my mouth so his can hover above. His eyes roam my face. My lips. My bloodstained cleavage.

And then he claims me, mouth dropping down on mine, tongue slipping through my parted lips. I clutch him tight as he uses both hands to rip the dress down, breaking the zipper and exposing my breasts.

“Fuck, you look so good right now,” he growls when he snatches his lips away and forces his forehead on mine. “My filthy, filthy niñita.”

He clutches my hips, bringing my ass to the edge of the counter.

“I’m not wearing panties. Take me,” I whisper. “Now. Please, Draco.”

He doesn’t hesitate. He spreads my legs wider apart by pushing his hips in closer, his thick tip meeting at my entrance and then pushing in, my ass locked in his hands.

Then he picks me up off the counter and bounces me up and down on his cock.

He’s not gentle or remotely easy on me.

He bounces me up and down hard enough so that I can feel every single inch of him as I descend, and the aching absence of him when I rise back up again.

His eyes are like molten amber, focused on mine. My arms are wrapped around his neck, my teeth caging my bottom lip.

There are no words for this moment.

None at all.

Really, what can I say?

This isn’t an ordinary fuck. This is a victory fuck.

They’re gone. I’m still here. He saw what I did. He knew I had it in me. He’s been waiting for me to unleash it ever since the day he met me. How twisted, sick, and dirty that is of him.

He fills me up with his cock, squeezing my ass in his hands.

“You feel good about yourself right now, don’t you?” he asks, voice feral. “You are la patrona. Look how fucking good you look, bouncing up and down on my cock. How fucking sexy you are with me deep inside you.” He rushes toward the nearest wall, and when my back slams into it, he sinks deeper. Deeper. Fully inside me now. “I want you to come all over my cock,” he demands. “Show me you fucking loved that shit. I know you did, because I fucking loved it too. Mi reina,” he rasps. “So sexy. So fucking perfect.” He rams in again, still thrusting, still going.

I clasp his face and notice there’s blood on his chest now too. Seeing it makes me reel him in until our bodies are glued. “Take me to the shower,” I moan.

He does just so, carrying me to the shower with his full, thick length still inside me, forcing my back to the shower wall with the glass door wide open for anyone to see if they dared walk in. He delivers a harder plunge, breaths growing shaky.

My moans can’t be held in anymore. I’m on the brink. The blood is washed away by the steady stream of water and seeping down the drain. We’re soaking wet, still grinding. Still going so fucking hard.

He doesn’t let up as he drills me like this, holding on tight, sucking on my skin so hard I’m sure it will leave a mark. He brings his mouth up and sinks his teeth into my bottom lip, grazing it, owning it.

“Ah, Draco,” I whisper as water collects on our lips. It feels good. Too good.

“You are fucking perfect,” he mutters, and the pull of his teeth, his fullness inside me, and his deep, orgasmic voice are enough to make me shatter.

He tenses as I cry out, holding onto him tighter, fingernails sinking into his shoulders, and then I feel him go still, but his cock is throbbing with release—a release I’ve never felt before.

“Shit, Gianna,” he curses. “Why do you have to be so fucking good?”

I rest the back of my head on the shower wall, eyes shut as he finishes off. The hot water coats my eyelashes and my face, but all I see behind my eyelids is red.

Red. Everywhere.