The Vicious Scent Of The Mafia's Black Rose

Then, with deliberate slowness, he reached for a small black bottle from the table. “I thought you would prefer the gentle way. Guess I was wrong.”



His words cut through me like a knife. He crouched down in front of me, cupping my chin with his cold, cruel hands. His fingers dug into my skin, forcing my mouth open, and I gasped in horror as he tilted the bottle.



The liquid slid down my throat, burning, choking. My body convulsed in protest, but I couldn’t stop him. The poison — Deadly Nightshade. I had used it before. And now I was forced to take it.



A year to live.



His smirk deepened as he let go of me, watching with sadistic pleasure as I gagged, my hands flying to my mouth.



Tears stung my eyes. The bitter, metallic taste of death filled my mouth, and I could do nothing but cry. My vision blurred as the poison coursed through me, but I couldn’t let go of my rage.



Francesco’s voice was low, almost gentle, as he spoke the words that felt like a death sentence. “Sometimes, the person you once loved may end up killing you,” he said, the twisted satisfaction in his voice unmistakable.



~~~~~



But surrender is never simple in a game of power, revenge, and dangerous desire. Because this man doesn’t just want to own her — he wants to unmake her, unravel her, and turn her fire to ash.



And the most terrifying part? Find out!