3. My old psychologist

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Someone has to rule the darkness

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Someone has to rule the darkness. Someone has to rule the darkness. Someone has to rule the darkness. Someone has to rule the darkness. Someone has to rule the darkness.

.

"Is everything okay Mr. Grasso?" My men ran when a sweet scream echoed in the whole container port. A sweet but soft scream I heard many times before. My ears have heard this voice, rather my ears had a habit of hearing this voice every day for a whole year.

"Everything seems to be." Blue eyes. Blonde hair. Mole under lips. Italian nose, small but plump lips, face as innocent as a five-year-old girl, skin smooth as glass, and body of a small porcelain doll. I know her. "Right, Doctor?"

Miss. Moon Valentino Diaz.

My old psychologist.

.

It's been two years since I have seen her last time. Two damn years. Two whole damn fucking years. But she hasn't changed a bit. Same body weight, same height, same ponytail, and same fiery eyes. Except for the length of her hair, nothing has changed.

.

But,

What is she doing here in the container port of Mafias?!

At two in the fucking morning?!

Alone?!

.

"Explain." Anger rushed up in my head only by seeing Miss Diaz in some random container port of Mafias. At two in the fucking morning. How foolish she is to be here without any protection around her?!

My hands tightened around her delicate shoulders when she struggled to slip through, slapping my chest with those fragile hands. Her extreme strength wasn't even half of what I trained for.

I slammed her 5'6 body back on the container and locked her between my hands. Those blue, watery yet full of fire eyes stared into mine. Plumped lips parted to breathe as the panic started to take over her.

"On your command, Mr. Grasso." A guard was pointing a gun at Miss Diaz. The silence on the port enhanced the beating sound of her heart. The slaps continued on my chest as she tried to push me away but failed.

"Abort," I said, tightening my hands around her thin body and pinning her against the container behind. "Do not raise a gun." Guard calmed his gunpoint and stood beside him.

Miss Diaz clenched her fingers on my white shirt, messing with my ironed coat and ruining the line of my collars. Her hands shaking, her legs trembling, and her cheek getting red with anger. A small bandage slipped down from her small forehead and her blonde hair strands fell on her surprised eyes.

"Dark?!" Miss Diaz pronounced my name firmly. It wasn't questionable tone nor was it a surprise. It was anger and rage and angst. There was no fear of me in her eyes. There never was. Only Miss Diaz can take my name without any fear.

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