Savage Honor: Blood Oath

003: Beneath the Skin

She was still in my head when the sun came up.

I’d slept for maybe an hour, stretched out on the leather couch in my office like a soldier in enemy territory. My gun stayed close, tucked under the pillow. In this world, trust was suicide, and comfort was a luxury you couldn’t afford twice.

But even with a loaded weapon at my side, the real threat had already walked through my front door wearing silk and secrets.

Isabella Romano.

My wife.

And the fuse to a bomb I’d willingly lit.

I showered and dressed in silence, my mind already mapping out the day—meetings with the Irish, a shipment in the docks, surveillance on a rat in my crew. The usual list of fires to put out. But beneath all of that, her voice still echoed: “I’m not scared of you.”

She should be.

God help her—she really should be.

The dining hall was quiet, filtered sunlight cutting across the long table like a spotlight. She sat at the far end, dressed in black, her hair pulled back in a sleek twist that made her look like royalty—and a damn executioner all at once.

She didn’t look up when I entered.

“Eating alone, Mrs. DiCarlo?” I said as I walked past her, not bothering to sit. “Or is this your way of reminding me how unwanted this marriage really is?”

She stabbed a piece of fruit with her fork. “You didn’t marry me for company, Luca.”

I smirked. She wasn’t wrong.

“You’re right. I married you to end a war before it started. But now I’m wondering if I just brought a new one into my house.”

She looked up at that, finally meeting my eyes. “If you see me as a threat, you should’ve left me with my father.”

“Oh, make no mistake,” I said, leaning closer, my voice lowering into something dark. “Your father sent you here thinking you’d be a lamb at the slaughter. He didn’t expect you to grow teeth.”

Her lips twitched—almost a smile. “Maybe he should’ve.”

We held each other’s stare for a beat too long. There was tension there, but it wasn’t the kind you escaped. It was the kind that ignited things. That rewrote rules.

I stepped back before I did something reckless—like press her against the table and see how deep that defiance ran.

“You’ll be attending the meeting tonight,” I said.

Her brow lifted. “Meeting?”

“With the heads of my council. If you’re going to wear my ring, you’ll learn what it means to live in my world.”

“And if I refuse?”

I leaned in, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Then I’ll drag you there in chains. Your choice, bella.”

Later that evening, Isabella entered the council room like she owned it. Heads turned. Conversations stilled. Half of these men had killed for me. The other half owed me their lives. None of them expected her.

She wore deep red—silk, sleeveless, sharp at the collarbone. A deliberate choice, and a smart one. She was sending a message: she wasn’t here to be seen. She was here to watch.

“Gentlemen,” I said as I stood at the head of the table. “This is Isabella. My wife.”

There were a few murmurs, some nods, and one unblinking stare from Salvatore Ricci—my oldest enemy wearing the mask of an ally. I didn’t like the way his eyes lingered on her.

“Careful where you look, Sal,” I warned.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “I was just admiring the boldness of your choice, Luca. The Romano girl, huh? Brave. Or suicidal.”

My jaw tightened. Isabella, to her credit, didn’t flinch.

“I’m both,” she said coolly. “Depends on the day.”

Laughter echoed around the table, but mine never came. Because while she earned their respect in five words, I saw something they didn’t.

She was studying them.

Learning the room like a chessboard. Making mental notes. Calculating.

And that’s when it hit me.

She wasn’t just surviving this marriage.

She was playing her own damn game.

Later, in the corridor outside the meeting room, I cornered her.

“You enjoyed that,” I said.

She crossed her arms. “I’m good at reading people. Especially snakes.”

“I didn’t bring you here to make enemies.”

“No, you brought me here to play house while you run your empire,” she snapped. “But I’m not here to sit quietly in a corner and smile for your men.”

I stepped into her space, crowding her against the wall. “Then what are you here for, Isabella?”

Her breath hitched. Just barely. “To survive. Same as you.”

There it was again—that fire. That truth I couldn’t touch without getting burned.

“You think this is survival?” I asked. “No, princess. This is war. And in war, the only rule is loyalty.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And what happens when that rule’s broken?”

I didn’t answer.

Instead, I kissed her.

Hard.

It wasn’t soft or gentle or anything close to kind. It was brutal. Desperate. A collision of hate, heat, and every unspoken thing that simmered between us since the altar. She didn’t pull away. She didn’t push me off. Her fingers curled in my shirt like claws, dragging me closer.

And just when I was about to lose myself in her, she bit my lip.

I pulled back, tasting blood.

Her smile was dangerous.

“I don’t break,” she whispered. “I bite back.”

Then she walked away, leaving me breathless in a corridor filled with shadows and blood on my tongue.

And for the first time, I didn’t know if I wanted to tame her…

Or let her ruin me.