"Nobody is allowed between these pretty little thighs but me....and if anyone tries...𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦."
~
They call him The King-a ghost who rules the world's most powerful mafia from the shadows. No face. No mercy. No mistakes.
And beside...
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Twelve years ago...
Unknown POV:
"Don't fall in love with the first man who cares for you."
Her voice was slurred, the kind of drunk that makes the truth slip easier than silence. The alcohol coated every word like venom, her breath sharp and bitter. Her chipped nails brushed against the side of my neck—not hard, not cruel, just... there. Like she wanted to remind me that she still could hurt me, even if she didn't.
She didn't choke me that time. She didn't raise her hand or spit words like knives. She just held me. Unsteady, breath ragged, hands trembling—one on my neck, the other hanging on to the last scrap of dignity she hadn't yet drowned in whiskey. Her grip wasn't affectionate. It was a warning disguised as touch. Like she needed me to remember the lesson burned into her bones before I made the same mistake.
Then the moment passed. Clarity evaporated. She turned and walked away without a word, stumbling into the corner of the counter on her way out. She didn't look back. She never did.
But her words stayed behind.
They hovered in the silence like smoke, clinging to my skin, settling deep into my chest where the ache lived. She hadn't said it to protect me. She said it because no one had protected her. Because she had fallen, once. And she had paid for it in blood, in shame, in years she'd never get back.
I should have listened. I should have heard her—not just the words, but the grief behind them. If I had, maybe I would have made different choices. Maybe I would have known better than to let myself be touched, to be seen, to be loved by the first man who reached out with something gentler than pain.
It would've saved me.
It would've kept me alive.
But I didn't listen. And now even the devil pities me. He sees me as something broken beyond repair, a warning for those who think survival is the same as living.
Still, I remain loyal.
Because when the world abandoned me, the King did not. When I had nothing—no name, no body, no breath left to fight—he gave me a reason to stand. He gave me purpose.
He gave me power.
And even though I fell for the first man who cared for me...even though I betrayed what I should've protected...
