Page 159 of Desperate Crimes
Chapter Forty-Nico Jr
It’s been two fucking weeks of hell.
Two weeks of healing, of ice baths and wound dressings and check-ins with private doctors.
Two weeks of pretending I’m fine, of letting her coddle me like I’m made of glass—when every time she brushes against me in those soft little pajama sets she wears to bed, I feel like I’m going to snap.
Not from pain.
From want.
From need.
From the ravenous, soul-crushing hunger I’ve been caging ever since I came back from the jungle alive, bloodied and branded by what happened—and anchored only by one thing.
Her.
Leanna Fury.
My wife.
My obsession.
My reason.
She doesn’t even know what she does to me.
Curling beside me with her book in hand and that faint rose-scented lotion clinging to her skin, she lets out one of those soft little sighs—the kind that hits me like a sucker punch straight to the heart.
Her head finds its way to my chest like she was made for that exact spot.For me.
Like I’m her pillow.
Her safe place.
And maybe I am.
Maybe that’s the part that destroys me the most.
Because this girl—this woman, my wife—could’ve had anyone.
A world full of polished men with smiles that came easy and hearts that weren’t forged in fire and blood like mine.
Men who didn’t come from a legacy of power, violence, and vice.
Who didn’t have venom in their veins and plans written in shadows.
Not that I gave her much choice.But she didn’t know that.
And still, she didn’t pick one of them.
She picked me.
Well.No.That’s not the whole truth.
I stole her.
Dragged her into my madness, marked her with my name, and wrapped her in a web so tight it would’ve choked anyone else.
