βπππβππ ππππ, πππππππ. π©ππππππ ππ. π³πππ ππ. πΊπππ ππ ππππ ππππ πππππππ ππππ.β
Being mine isnβt a choice. Itβs 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 whoβ¦ 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.
π©ππππππ π°’π πππ ππππ ππ πππππππ ππππππ, πππ
π°’ππ ππππππ ππππ ππππ πππ πππππ ππ ππππ.
