Chapter 63 The Man Who Wouldn't Die

• The air in the warehouse was thick with dampness and the metallic scent of old blood. Mariana sat against a rusted support beam, her wrists bound behind her back with coarse rope. A streak of crimson dripped from her temple, her dark eyes sharp despite the pain radiating through her body. The overhead bulb flickered, casting Rodrigo’s towering frame into eerie shadows.
• He crouched before her, his signature smirk curling at the edges of his lips. His jet-black hair, slicked back, accentuated the cruel gleam in his hazel eyes. He looked too alive, too triumphant, for a man she had believed dead.
• “You didn’t really think I was gone, did you?” His voice was silk laced with steel.