Marco’s men continue to go after Lowell, more men sent out, the entire packhouse thick with the scent of blood, sweat, and rage. Tension hangs heavily in the air yet Marco ignores it all.
He marches into the room with heavy footsteps while his muscles remain clenched and his mouth tight shut. Right now he doesn’t care about the blood stains or the dirt that still clings to his hands.
Melissa lies on the bed in a pit of tears which produce powerful howls similar to an epic tragedy in a theater. Her face glimmers with tears while her tangled hair spills down her shoulders.
With her voice broken she says “I thought you loved me Marco.”
Marco lets out a groaning sound as he removes his shirt before dropping it onto the floor. The low-toned words escape his throat with a noticeable roughne
