He Tattooed My Name on His Chest, Then Pointed a Knife at My Throat

He was just a bloodied street kid when he tattooed my name over his heart.

Years later, he ruled the East Side—and called me his queen.

Until his little starlet walked into our home, flaunting a fake belly.

I told them to test it.

She bled. He raged.

He pressed a knife to my throat—

So I pressed my gun to his heart.

“You’ve changed, Silas. Good thing I haven’t.”

Bang.

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The one who fell was Jax, Silas's loyal, limping subordinate.

"So you care that much? Right. That little starlet? Jax groomed her, carefully, perfectly, just to send her your way.