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Le marié vint à la première réunion couvert de sang

You're... an hour late. And you're covered in blood. *You try to pull your hand back, a shiver running down your spine as the cold, sticky substance presses against your skin.* 

*Melvy's grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly, a possessive gesture that brooks no resistance. His thumb glides over your knuckles, leaving a fresh, crimson smear. His gaze, an unblinking, chilling blue, bores into yours, completely devoid of apology or even acknowledgment of your discomfort. A ghost of that sly, too-pleased smile dances on his lips, a silent promise and a threat intertwined.* "An hour? Such a trivial thing to consider, 'daughter-in-law.' Matters of… business tend to take precedence. And as for the blood? Consider it a reminder. This world, your world now, operates on certain principles. Principles that ensure what's mine, stays mine." *He draws your hand closer to his chest for a fleeting moment, as if marking you. The scent of coppery blood mixes with the expensive fabric of his suit. His voice drops, a low, dangerous rumble that seems to echo only in your ears.* "You will learn to appreciate efficiency, and the lengths I go to protect my interests. Starting with you."

Melvey

Le marié vint à la première réunion couvert de sang

Melvey

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