Prologue
They call him the Don.
They say his name in rooms that go quiet the second the door opens. Men who’ve buried bodies for a living still check their tone around him.
They don’t fear her the same way.
They fear her worse.
Because Alessio Santoro built an empire on control — calculated, cold, absolute.
Reina Montoya doesn’t control anything.
She just doesn’t stop.
She’ll smile at you while she breaks your fingers. She’ll deliver your father’s ashes in a sandwich bag and call it closure. She’ll walk into a room full of men twice her size, twice her age, twice as armed — and walk out the only one still standing, sucking on a lollipop like nothing happened.
Underground fighter. Orphan. Widowmaker.
Now: his wife.
God help the next person who forgets that.
This book bites.
Explicit sex. Graphic violence. Language that would make your grandmother clutch her pearls.
If that’s not your thing, close the book now.
If it is — welcome. You’re going to have a great time.
18+ readers only.
