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.