WARNING: GRAPHIC CONTENT AND EMOTIONAL DISTRESS AHEAD. PROCEED WITH CAUTION OR SKIP TO THE NEXT CHAPTER
Salvatore's chest rose and fell rapidly, his breaths coming in sharp bursts as he locked eyes with Damian, hatred evident in his glare. With a curl of his lips, he spat at Damian, but the distance between them made the saliva only landed on Damian’s polished shoes instead. Damian tsked, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at the small stain.
“You know,” Damian began, his voice low and dangerous, “no one dares spit on my shoes. But I don’t mind tonight. After all, they’ll be stained with your blood soon enough.”
“What do you want?” Salvatore fumed, twisting his wrists in a failed attempt to loosen the cuffs that bit into his skin. Damian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his kne
