“𝒀𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆, 𝒗𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔. 𝑩𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒕. 𝑳𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒕. 𝑺𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍.”

Being mine isn’t a choice. It’s an irrefutable fact. Not born of fate, or destiny, or some cosmic bullshit. There is no divine intervention that makes it so. It just simply is.

I don’t like it when other men touch what’s mine. It makes me see red.

Those people who have the audacity to touch my vicious little Savina? I erase them and carve out their hearts. I send those souvenirs to her as a warning to prove just how fucking serious I am when it comes to her.

My vicious isn’t fazed by my gruesome gifts. She has secrets. Ones that would put her and her whole family in prison.

One of those secrets is called The Raven Group. A team of killers who… well, you’ll see.

The point is, I know all her secrets. The depraved ones. The dirty ones. The bloody ones.

And I’ll use them all to bend her to my will.

𝑩𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰’𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰’𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍.