Page 88 of Savage Devotion

Our eyes meet across the room, and I see the moment he recognizes his own mortality.

"You called?" I ask pleasantly, voice at odds with the murderous rage pumping through my veins.

Francesca uses his momentary distraction to drive her knee upward, connecting with his groin. He doubles over with a strangled grunt and Spanish cussing, releasing her as she steps smoothly aside.

"Perfect timing," she says, straightening her dress with dignified calm. "Though I had the situation under control."

Ignoring her for the moment, I cross the room, grabbing Dominguez by his expensive shirt collar and hauling him upright. My fist connects with his face, the satisfying crunch of cartilage filling the room as his nose shatters beneath my knuckles.

Blood sprays across imported marble tiles. A minor inconvenience to clean compared to what I have planned for him.

I hammer my fist into his face again, and again, and again.

"You put your hands on my wife," I growl so harshly my voice scratches my throat. "You touched what belongs to me."

Dominguez spits blood, eyes darting between Francesca and me. "Business... this was business..."

"No," I correct him, delivering another blow that splits his lip. "This was suicide."

From my jacket, I withdraw a ceramic blade similar to the one I used to carve the Ravelli crest into Francesca's thigh on the night I claimed her.

Tonight, it will serve a different purpose.

"Xavier Dominguez," I say formally, watching fear bloom in his eyes. "You have violated the most basic principle of our world. Respect for another man's territory."

"This was a trap!" he pleas with a pathetic tone.

"Dante—" Francesca begins, but I silence her with a look.

"The ports!" Dominguez gasps, desperation replacing arrogance. "I can give you access. Full clearance. Everything you want."

"I'm afraid it's too late for negotiation." I smile, the expression entirely devoid of warmth. "But your offer is noted."

I spin him around, arm locked around his throat in a grip that cuts off his air supply. The blade gleams in the stateroom's lighting as I position it against his throat.

"The access codes," I demand. "Now."

Fear makes him compliant. Between strangled breaths, he recites numerical sequences for both Algeciras and Valencia ports. Marco records them on his phone and Vincent taps on his tablet.

"Verified," Vincent confirms after a quick check against the system parameters we'd already gathered. "We're in."

"Good. Change the codes. These ports are Ravelli ports now." I loosen my grip just enough for Dominguez to catch his breath. "Thank you for your cooperation."

"We... we're done then?" Hope flickers across his bloodied face.

"Almost."

The blade slides across his throat. Not deep enough for immediate death, but enough to ensure his last minutes on earth are spent in the awareness of his own mortality.

Blood cascades down his expensive shirt, staining fabric and skin alike as he collapses to his knees before me. His hands clutch at his throat, eyes wide with the realization that his empire ends tonight.

I watch impassively as he falls forward, life draining onto imported marble in spreading pools of red blood.

When the final death rattle confirms his departure, I crouch beside his body.

"Dante?" Francesca's voice comes from behind me. "What are you doing?"

I don't answer her.

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