Chapter 47 #3
Gavriel’s gaze went to Juarez’s lone bodyguard in the room, who hadn’t said a damn thing. “You can take him back home. It appears that my father shot him over an unknown dispute.”
“An unknown dispute, Don Azzaro?”
Gavriel’s arm tightened around my waist as he turned toward him.
“When my wife and I came in, he was already dead. We were here for my father, who then tried to kill her just because she loves me and I her. Obviously, I couldn’t let that stand.
My wife may have also held a grudge over the fact that my father is the reason hers is dead. ”
“Yes, sir.”
Jeremiah, one of Ezequiel’s last faithful, stepped forward. “You killed your father for power?”
“No, I killed him for causing my father’s death,” I spat.
He sneered as he glared at me. “Shut up, the men are—”
A gunshot rang out, and he fell to the floor, and then it was my pretty boy who announced, “Anyone else have an issue with how I became Don? No? Great, now how about no one talks about or to my wife like that or they will find themselves in the same predicament.”
I blinked in shock. Everyone’s heads instantly bowed except for the bodyguard of Juarez. He looked at Juarez’s limp frame in the chair by the table and just said, “I have been Don Juarez’s guard since he was twenty. I cannot go back in shame.”
Before anyone had a chance to say anything or move, another shot rang out and blood sprayed through one side of the room, speckling over the guards on the other side.
I froze. It was one thing to pull the trigger in revenge for my father, but to watch someone willingly put a bullet in their own head? I didn’t know how to process that.
What the fuck?
I stood there, staring at his body, my stomach soured even as a cold, calculating part of me admired his loyalty.
The room seemed to split in two. Half the men stepped back with horrified expressions, wiping blood from their faces, while the others remained impassive, as though suicide were just another business transaction.
My hands trembled, but I clenched them into fists, trying to remember my father’s words about clearer heads, but also because there was a part of me that respected his decision.
The room fell into a deafening silence, the echo of the gunshot still ringing in my ears. I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry and tight. The adrenaline and focus I had to complete my revenge was wearing out and my body was crashing.
"Let's go," Gavriel murmured, guiding me from the room with a firm hand at the small of my back. I was dimly aware of the blood drying on my skin, the metallic scent now sickening rather than exhilarating.
The remaining men parted before us, eyes downcast in deference to their new Don.
The walk through the mansion's corridors felt surreal, as though we were moving through a dream—or perhaps a nightmare.
The adrenaline that had carried me through the confrontation was ebbing, leaving behind a hollow feeling I hadn't anticipated.
With each step, my muscles faltered. I was exhausted.
Without missing a step, Gavriel reached down and swung me up into his arms.
"Breathe, Goddess," Gavriel whispered, his lips close to my ear.
I hadn't realized I was holding my breath until he spoke. The air rushed into my lungs in a ragged gasp that threatened to become a sob. I clamped down on the emotion, refusing to show weakness before his men.
We reached a private suite, where he carried me right toward the bathroom.
The space we walked through was masculine and bold, with dark green walls, black furniture, and a bathroom with brushed nickel fixtures and black marble that reflected diffused lighting throughout, creating a dark, soothing, calming space that helped ease the tension in my muscles.
"I've got you," he murmured, setting me gently on the edge of the massive marble tub. He turned on the faucets, steam quickly filling the room as hot water cascaded into the bath.
I stared at my hands, at the dried blood coating my skin slowly flaking off. "It's over," I said, my voice sounding distant to my own ears.
"Yes." Gavriel knelt before me, taking my blood-stained hands in his. "It's over. My father is dead. Juarez is dead. Rhea is safe."
"And that man . . . he just—" I couldn't finish the sentence. The image of the bodyguard's suicide kept replaying in my mind. I’d killed people in self-defense. Hell, I’d torn the heart out of the man who’d killed my father, but Juarez’s man willingly ending his life . . .
"Some loyalties run deeper than reason," Gavriel said softly, beginning to unbutton my blouse with careful movements. "His life was tied to Juarez. Without him, he had no purpose."
Gavriel’s words stuck to me like glue as I watched him strip me down, his eyes locked on mine the entire time.
His fingers moved over my skin like I was some precious thing he’d found and was determined to fix.
Every touch felt like an apology, like he was trying to wipe away more than just the blood.
I’m not broken.
I’m crashing from reality.
The blood had soaked through my clothes in places, sticking the fabric to my skin. He peeled it away gently, discarding each ruined garment on the tile.
When I was naked, he helped me into the tub, the hot water immediately turning pink around me. I sank into its warmth, watching as tendrils of red curled away from my body.
"Join me," I whispered, needing his closeness more than I'd ever admit aloud.
Without hesitation, he stripped off his own clothes, and after draining the tub of the brown water and refilling it, he slid in behind me, pulling me back against his chest. His arms encircled me, strong and secure, a barrier against the chaos we'd just unleashed.
"I called you my wife," he said after several minutes of silence, his voice rumbling against my back.
"You did."
"I meant it." His hand found mine beneath the water, fingers intertwining. "Not just for show. Not just for power."
I turned slightly, looking up at him. His face was open, vulnerable in a way I usually only saw mid-scene. "Are you officially proposing to me in a bathtub stained with your father's blood?"
A small smile curved his lips. "Seems fitting, doesn't it? Our relationship has never been conventional, and I’ve already agreed to wear your collar."
Despite everything, I felt a laugh bubble up in my chest. "No, it certainly hasn't been."
His expression grew serious again. "I love you, Elin. I have for longer than I've been willing to admit, even to myself. Today, watching you face down my father, I was so damn proud of you, and there was a part of me that wondered what I did to make you call me yours."
I thought of all we'd been through—the manipulation, the violence, the blood we'd spilled together. And beneath it all, the undeniable connection that had drawn us to each other from the beginning.
"You're Don Azzaro now," I said, choosing my words carefully. "Your wife will be expected to play a certain role. To be a certain kind of woman."
"I don't want that kind of wife," he countered. "I want my Goddess. I want the woman who holds my leash and keeps me human when the darkness threatens to consume me."
I reached up, tracing the line of his jaw with wet fingers. "The other Dons won't understand. They'll see it as weakness."
"Let them." His voice hardened with conviction. "Let them underestimate us. They'll learn soon enough what happens when they cross the Owl’s Talon and his queen."
Queen. The word echoed in my mind, powerful and seductive. Not a subservient wife standing in her husband's shadow, but an equal partner in his reign.
"Yes," I said simply.
His brow furrowed slightly. "Yes?"
"Yes, I'll marry you." I shifted in the tub, water sloshing over the sides as I turned to face him fully. "But on one condition."
"Name it."
"We burn it all down," I said, my voice steady with newfound purpose. "The trafficking, the drugs, all of it. We rebuild the Azzaro empire into something different. Something better."
Understanding dawned in his eyes. "A legitimate business."
"With illegitimate methods, when necessary," I clarified, feeling more like myself. "I'm not na?ve. But we set new boundaries. New rules."
He nodded slowly, considering my words. "It won't be easy. There will be resistance."
"I'm counting on it." I felt my lips curl into that slow, dangerous smile—the one that said I wasn’t just playing dress-up with my dad in this world of monsters anymore. "I rather enjoy making examples of those who resist. It's not like the Vispania family hasn’t done the same."
Gavriel laughed, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles. "God, I love you." He pulled me closer, his lips finding mine in a kiss that tasted of blood and promise. "My beautiful, ruthless Goddess."
When we broke apart, I rested back against him. "We need to call Rhea. Let her know it's done."
"Okay. Once we are done in here," he said, his hands sliding down my wet back. "We’ll tell her that we will come get her in the morning. Tonight belongs to us."
The water had cooled, the blood washed away from us, and Gavriel had drained and refilled the tub with warm water, but I felt no desire to leave the sanctuary of his arms. Tomorrow would bring new challenges—consolidating power, making alliances, reshaping an empire.
But tonight, in this moment, there was only us.
"My pretty boy," I murmured against his lips. "My Don."
"My Goddess," he returned. "My queen."
As his mouth claimed mine once more, I surrendered to the certainty that whatever came next, we would face it together—bound not just by blood and power, but by something far stronger, far more dangerous.
Love.
And God help anyone who stood in our way.