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40
SAVANNAH
NEVER STAY DOWN - UNSECRET, SAM TINNESZ
I knew I was weird.Hadn't I said it last night? Hadn't I told Aidan that I loved him for loving me even though Iwasweird?
But seeing him standing on a platform in the cement factory yard, wearing a goddamn leather jacket, jeans, and a black tee, bruises finally beginning to fade but doing nothing to detract from his powerful aura, watching him command the fear and respect of the hundreds of men here, it got to me.
God, it did.
It was like a liquid aphrodisiac.
I was used to sex being on tap, so my body hadn't appreciated being starved of it for a week, but last night had been beautiful.
Slow, loving,cherishing.
Today, when this was over, I needed to be fucked.
I needed that more than I needed what was going to happen.
As I walked through the crowd, the need for vengeance burning a hole in my soul, whispers followed me.
Mutters of surprise and shock, of disapproval and curiosity.
Eventually, they didn't just follow me, they outpaced me, pushing me onward like the tide was forcing me toward the shore.
I reveled in the attention, knowing that this would only add to the day’s spectacle; that whatever he had planned would never be forgotten. That, today, he’d cement the foundations for his legacy into the Five Points’ memory banks.
When I made it to the front, Aidan was there, his hand outstretched for me as he hauled me onto the platform.
I appeared to be what he’d been waiting for because after I was tucked at his side, he ground out, "Last Sunday, some of my people, brothers, my so-calledfamily, T-boned my vehicle.
"They snatched Savannah and me from the wreckage, and they took us to Bratva territory. Even better than working with a faction within the Bratva who oppose the leader we support, one of these bastards decided that they were going to dose me with heroin—bring me to my knees that way.
"Now, my brothers wouldn't have me tell you this story. They think I'm letting you in on a weakness. But my weaknesses are my greatest strengths.
"The moment they dragged Savannah into this, those responsible were always going to die. Always. I was their end game, their target, and I would have killed them for that alone, but instead, they went for my throat, so I'm sending them a message.
"I'm pounding it into your minds because you are my foot soldiers. You do what I say, you do what I tell you to do because I will keep your asses out of jail, I will protect your families, and I will line your pockets with enough wealth to make you happy men. In return, I expect loyalty and obedience.
"After today, I will expect you to present yourselves at one of four tattoo studios on our territory where you will be inked with a new insignia. We aren't a gang, we're a firm, but whenever you look at that fucking tattoo, you'll know what it is, what it represents—ownership. You belong to me.
"Your sins are my sins, your weaknesses are my weaknesses, and your crimes are my crimes. Every one of you here plays a role in my organization, whether it's small or large." He let the whispers stir among the crowd. "Anyone who has a problem with that," he slipped in calmly, "you know where the front door is."
Those softly uttered words landed with all the weight of a wrecking ball into a wall.
The men looked at each other for back up, outrage slithering between them like dozens of snakes, but no one spoke up.
Not a single man.
Stepping away from me, he shoved his hands in his pockets and moved to face the contraption at his back.
The noise from a motor turning over ricocheted around the lot, and a buzzing sound came next as a crane stirred into motion, its arm swinging around, bringing with it a large boulder of rebar, which hung suspended in mid-air. Tied around the rebar were several lengths of rope—nooses.
Jesus.
He was going old school.
