Chapter 6

The razor-sharp knife penetrated the artery with the smoothness of silk. It was a beautiful blade. The only vanity he allowed in his simple existence. It had belonged to his culero father. One of the few things he'd managed to grab, after the fall of his family, before his race for the border in the middle of the night. The handle was bone with a wolf carved into it and a metal grip welded around the edge. There was a matching dagger that had been lost that night.

He eased the victim away from his body and held him against the floor as life quickly ebbed away. He'd played for long enough. Taped the man's mouth and landed his fists in different parts of his body until the little bitch squealed and begged beneath his gag. If he'd been allowed to live, he would've peed blood for a week. Roman would have enjoyed making the man suffer for longer, but he had work to do. He would need to get rid of the body and then come back to collect the girl.

Katerina.

Everything he did was for her. This was for her. Even if it wasn't exactly what she would've chosen for herself. Retribution and death for her extortionist was essential. He lived by only one code. She'd belonged to him from the moment he set eyes on her all those years ago. She had been too young to claim. She had been thirteen and he had been twenty. She'd gone toe to toe with him when she found out he was in the same gang as her big brother. This tiny little, yellow-haired thing, yelling at a big, tattooed gang animal, fresh out of jail. She'd been lucky he hadn't raped and killed her on the spot.

Back then he had no moral code, he had no sense of honour or family. Just black rage and his best friend, who was behind the door she was standing in front of. Instead, he'd fallen in love with the first syllable she spoke, the first poke of her little finger against his leather-clad chest as she told him to get the fuck off their family lawn and never come back. She'd been way too good for the likes of him, even once she grew up. He had been a dirty street rat. Piece of gang shit. So, he had watched from the shadows as she bloomed in the sun.

But then something happened. She had wilted under the touch of the scum currently dying in a pool of his own blood. Her husband. His lip curled in disgust as he watched the other man coldly. There was no understanding her choice. He was small in Roman's eyes; weak. Had barely put up a fight when he understood what Roman had come for. He'd begged like a cunt and offered money. Her fucking money.

Roman didn't know why or what had happened to go so wrong in her life. He'd done as she'd asked. He'd kept to the shadows and allowed her to live her life separate from him, despite the out of control chemistry that flared up between them every time they set eyes on each other. He would force her to tell him, once he got his hands on her. And he would put hands on her. He was done keeping his distance. She'd begged him to leave her alone, to let her live her own life. She hadn't lived it well. She'd allowed this limp-dicked, now dead, piece of shit to fuck with her head and to damage her perfect self.

Now he was coming back to pick up the pieces of her life. He was coming for Katie and he was coming with a vengeance. He was going to put her back together and then he was going to keep what was left for himself.