Mistress to a Monster

Damon had never been into weak women or doormats. He preferred his women to be full of fire. Milah was filled with hatred, whereas he was used to women worshiping him.

Through the stall of the shower, he saw her outline and that of his knife. He was impressed with how she held herself.

Such power.

Such control.

Some of his men didn’t even show this kind of dedication. He had to wonder how she was able to fight. His men had told him that she had to be trained in some way, but he didn’t know how.

Russo wouldn’t allow his daughter to be trained by men. She was merely a woman. The Russos were not known for caring about what happened to their women. They were still pawns in their game.

So how did Milah do it?

Who helped her?

No one had the answers.

The door to the shower opened, and he waited, counting down the seconds before she struck.

He saw her reflection in the tile, the hesitation, and that was her downfall.

If Milah wanted to end him, she should have done it swiftly without taking a second to think about her decision. This was where she messed up.

He captured her wrist and thrust her to the wall. With his hard grip, she cried out, and the blade fell to the bottom of the shower stall between them. Far enough away from their feet that no one got hurt.

Now he had her, but what was he going to do with her?