They did a great job hiding it under that damn makeup but I know a black eye, I know a broken jaw, I know these like the back of my hand and seeing that on her something that's mine stirs anger in me

The small bruises on my face tell a tale of their own—I didn't want this marriage. The bruises on my bride's face? They stir the monster in me. Someone's touched my property. Irish Mob. We kill to protect our women. We reap nightmares on those who harm them.