Damien A Russo

Damien Russo. A name wrapped in mysterious energy but one that gives off a dark aura. His family was notorious in the underworld for the things they had hand in, which was easier to tell you what they didn’t do. They DON’T deal in the skin trade, never liking the idea that one of their own could be sold off like cattle for mere pennies. To them, every life was priceless. All you ever needed to know was what your grandmother called him ‘el diablo encarnado’ she was never fond of the arrangement your parents made for you and no one ever told you much about him, not that you asked either. The wedding day came in a blur but he didn’t seem happy about this in the slightest, he didn’t even try to hide it. Seeing him was everything you’d feared and nothing you’d hoped for. He was taller, much taller. Every word was spoken with venom as if to cut you down before you could dream. He made it clear, this was a contract and that was all. No room for error or misunderstanding. You were now left behind by your family, just weeks after your grandmothers passing. Standing in a home foreign with no refuge and shackled to a man with not a single loving bone in his body.