Chapter Twenty-One

Myia

We’ve been in Sicily for a few days, and I thought we were in our little paradise. But then everything shattered. He’d just come up from giving me pleasure, and suddenly, we heard a crash. Panic surges through me as he jumps up, throwing on his clothes and hurriedly tossing pajamas at me. The smell of smoke fills the air, and my heart races.

“Myia, get behind me,” Sergio commands, instinctively positioning himself in front of me.

I watch two men speak in rapid Italian, voices rising, filled with tension. My stomach twists as one of them pulls out a gun. Before I can process what’s happening, Sergio reacts. He pulls out his gun and fires—again and again. I stand frozen, horrified, unable to breathe as I watch him unload the chamber into the man. My vision blurs as nausea overwhelms me, and I lean over, emptying my stomach of everything we just ate.

Sergio rubs my back, trying to comfort me, but it’s useless. What I witnessed is seared into my mind—his face twisted in a mix of focus and something darker. One shot could have been self-defense, but he didn’t stop. The way he seemed to relish it and felt nothing… it terrifies me.

“Myia, shit, I’m sorry,” he says, panic in his voice as he picks me up.

“I can’t do this,” I sob, tears streaming down my face.

“You’re just in shock. You’ll be okay. He was going to kill you—made threats on my son,” he says harshly.

I know he did what he believed he had to, but the reality is overwhelming. My father has done this. They all have to protect the family, the ones they love. I look into his eyes, searching for the man I fell in love with. I want to find comfort there, but I’m met with a darkness I didn’t expect. I understand why. He can’t show emotion; he has to be cold.

“I know he was a threat, but…” My voice breaks as I struggle to articulate my feelings. “But seeing you like that, it’s different.”

He steps closer, his hands gripping my shoulders. “I did it to protect you. I would do it again if I had to. You have to understand that.”

“I understand,” I whisper.

“I don’t want to lose you, Sergio,” I say, my voice steadier.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. I never wanted to scare you,” he says softly.

“I know,” I say, wiping my tears.

At that moment, I realize that while the shock is still fresh, it doesn’t change my feelings for him. I’m willing to navigate this life together, even if it means facing the darkness that comes with it. We’ll figure it out—together.

Sergio gets me into the car, his movements quick and purposeful. I don’t look outside; I can feel the chaos surrounding us—the scent of smoke and the air’s tension. He starts the engine, and I sense his focus as he drives, cutting through the aftermath of violence.

When I finally dare to glance out the window, my heart drops. There’s my father. He looks different, almost unrecognizable, with a ferocity in his eyes that sends chills down my spine. It’s like he’s transformed into a monster amid the carnage. The reality of the war I knew was brewing has erupted before me.

Sergio notices my gaze and tightens his grip on the wheel, his jaw set in a hard line. “Don’t look, Myia. Just focus on me,” he says, his voice low and commanding, filled with a steady authority.

I take a breath, trying to process what I’m seeing. I’ve always been aware of the dark undercurrents of my family’s world, but this—this is the raw reality I’ve been sheltered from. I’ve learned how to defend myself and how to handle a weapon, but witnessing this brutality is something entirely different.

“I didn’t know it would escalate this quickly,” I finally say, keeping my voice steady. “I knew there was tension, but I didn’t realize…”

“This is what it is, Myia,” he interrupts, his tone firm yet calm. “You’ve been prepared for this, even if you didn’t fully understand it. Just remember what I taught you.”

I feel a mix of shock and clarity wash over me. I won’t let fear take root in my heart. I’ve grown up knowing the stakes and must confront them.

“I won’t let this break me,” I say, my voice gaining strength. “I’m ready to face this reality head-on.”

Sergio glances at me, his gaze intense, filled with a mixture of pride and protectiveness. “That’s my girl. We’ll navigate this together, but you must keep your head clear.”

His words resonate within me. I might be processing everything happening, but I refuse to let it overwhelm me. I’m part of this world and prepared to confront whatever comes next, no matter how daunting it may seem.

“Are we going to the safe house?” I ask, my heart racing as I try to gauge our next move.

“No, not yet,” he replies, his voice harsh, leaving no room for discussion.

“Then where are we going?” I push, frustration bubbling up inside me. I can’t stand the uncertainty.

“Damn it, Myia, I need to focus right now, not play 21 questions,” he snaps, his eyes fixed on the road, the tension radiating off him.

“Fuck you. Wherever we go, you’d better get your bed. I’m not staying with you. You’re such a prick,” I shoot back, anger spilling over.

“Don’t test me, Kitty,” he growls, his tone low and commanding, the kind that sends a shiver down my spine.

“Asshole, what are you going to do? Spank me? Withhold pleasure like I can’t handle myself?” I retort, my sarcasm a thin veil for the intensity of my emotions.

He turns to me, his gaze piercing, and I can feel the weight of his dominance. There’s a fire in his eyes, a reminder of the man I know he is—the one who commands respect and instills fear. I’m furious, but this exchange is an undeniable thrill, a challenge that ignites something profound within me.

“Keep it up, and you’ll find out just how far I’m willing to go,” he warns, his low growl sending a rush of adrenaline.

I stare back at him, my heart pounding, caught between anger and a twisted sense of excitement. This is the reality of our lives—volatile, electrifying, and dangerous. Despite everything, I can’t help but feel alive in this moment, even as we teeter on the edge of chaos.

I need space. Yet I need him next to me now. I am turned on. I must be twisted in the head.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Sergio

I can feel the heat radiating off Mario as I slam my hands on the table, the echo reverberating through the meeting room. “They came to my fucking house. My house, Mario.

His expression is unyielding, and he leans back slightly, a hint of defiance in his eyes. “That is my daughter and grandchild. I’m just as pissed. They want the demons to unleash. I am prepared to die for them. Are you?”

His calm demeanor only fuels my rage. I can feel the fire in my gut, a primal urge to retaliate. “I will burn hell upon them, and yes, I would. You fucking know it. Enough with the remarks.”

Mario’s voice is steady, cutting through my anger. “Just checking. Because you never let anything like that happen. Love my daughter; don’t get too soft where she is in danger like that again.”

I down my drink, the whiskey burning down my throat, matching the heat within me. “Don’t fucking question me.”

“I will when it comes to my daughter,” he snaps back, his calm demeanor only making my blood boil.

“Enough!” Ace’s voice slices through the tension, a harsh reminder of our stakes. “This isn’t the time for bullshit.”

I take a deep breath, trying to focus the fury boiling inside me. “We’re not here to argue. They crossed a line, targeting our families. That’s war.

Mario nods, finally channeling his anger into something useful. “Exactly. We need to hit them where it hurts. They think they can push us around, but they’re mistaken.”

Cole’s voice cuts in, steady and clear. “So what’s the plan? We can’t sit idle while they plot. We need to move.”

“Alright, listen up,” I say, my tone commanding. “I’ll reach out to our contacts for intel. Vinny, coordinate with the Irish. Make sure they’re ready. We’re striking first.”

Vinny’s eyes narrow, determination evident. “Consider it done.”

“You both have got to stop with the back and forth,” Ace says, his calm voice barely concealing the frustration in his eyes. I can see it; he’s about two seconds away from losing it. “You gave your blessing, and now you’re making low jabs at me, Mario. You’re doing my head in.”

I can’t help but smirk at the exchange. “I thought we discussed it. Why keep it going? It’s not like I’m the one throwing punches here.”

Mario raises an eyebrow, a playful grin creeping onto his face. “Maybe you’re just sensitive. I’m just making sure you know what’s at stake. They came for our families.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t helping! We’re letting personal stuff cloud our judgment. We need to focus,” I retort, trying to keep the mood light.

Vinny shifts in his seat, clearly trying to mediate. “Listen, we’re all on edge, but we can’t turn this into a circus. The Russians aren’t going to care about our little squabbles.”

I chuckle, appreciating Vinny’s attempt to defuse the situation. “Right. Let’s skip the theatrics and get serious. We need to channel this anger into something productive.”

Mario crosses his arms, maintaining his severe facade. “Fine. But if anything happens to my family, hell is coming with me.”

I roll my eyes, finding humor in the situation. “We all feel the same way, Mario. But let’s focus on what we can control. We hit them hard and fast, and we do it together. No more distractions—unless someone’s got food. I’m starving.”

Ace finally cracks a smile, the tension easing a bit. “Alright, let’s get to work then. It’s time to plan our retaliation. And someone better bring snacks.”

The air lightens, and I know we’re ready to face whatever comes next—together, with a dash of humor to keep us grounded.

“You fuckers are twisted,” Uncle Matteo chuckles, shaking his head. “I thought I was crazy, but walking in here feels like stepping into an asylum ward.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “You three raised us; rest in peace, Marco.”

The mention of Marco hits home. He was killed when Mario was just sixteen, and that’s when he moved in with us. I glimpse the pain in Mario’s eyes, but it fades almost as quickly as it appears. We’ve all lost people close to us—I’ve lost a few uncles. It’s a reminder of the stakes we face; it could easily be any of us.

Pouring another drink, I feel the tension shift more towards lightheartedness. It’s not as heavy as it was just ten minutes ago. “Here’s to remembering the ones we lost,” I say, raising my glass. “And to make sure their sacrifices weren’t in vain.”

“Amen to that,” Vinny adds, clinking his glass against mine.

The laughter continues, and I can see the camaraderie among us strengthening. In this life, humor is our armor; for now, it’s enough to keep the darkness at bay.

“We move next week. The women and children head to the safehouse in a few days, right?” I ask, glancing over our plans.

“Si, the boys are made men; they took the oath and shared blood. You know that means they come,” Uncle Matteo reminds me, his tone serious.

“I’m aware. Salv is working with them. I know the rules,” I reply, my voice sharper than I intended.

“Don’t get all grumpy again. Lighten up, buttercup,” he says with a chuckle, trying to ease the tension.

I can’t help but roll my eyes at his playful jab. “It’s just a lot to manage, you know? I want everyone to be safe.”

“Trust me, we’ve got this,” he reassures me, his grin infectious. “We’re like a family of cockroaches—hard to kill and always finding a way to survive.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I guess we are tough to get rid of.”

With that, the mood shifts back to lightheartedness, and I feel more at ease. We’re in this together, and as long as we keep our spirits up, we can face whatever comes our way.

I am done, and I want to spend time with Myia. Elio will be here. I have spent time with him, but I need to remind myself to stay focused.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Sergio

I’ve been home with Myia for a few hours, and my kitty wants to play, but the damn phone keeps ringing. I tried to ignore it, but it won’t stop. I look at the screen and see it’s Ma. Panic rushes through me as I hurry to answer.

“Ma,” I say, my heart racing.

“Your papa passed away this morning. He was peaceful,” she says, her voice breaking. I already knew the moment I saw all her missed calls.

“Yeah, I’ll be there tonight,” I manage to say, holding back the pain clawing at me.

“He wanted to be home. Can we make arrangements to bring him back?” Ma asks, and I can hear the tremor in her voice, how broken she is.

“Of course, Ma. I’ll set it all up. Don’t worry. I love you. I’m sending a jet for you. You shouldn’t be sitting there all alone,” I say, feeling lost and desperate to comfort her.

“Salv is here with me, and so is Lola. I’m okay, but I need to rest. Just get the arrangements set for Papa,” she says, her pain cutting through me.

“Yeah, love you. Let me get off so I can figure it out and let the others know,” I say, my voice thick as she whispers her love back to me.

My eyes misted over. My Papa was stern; he had to be in this life. But one thing was for sure—he loved us deeply. The bond between him and Ma was something special; they were soulmates. It’s the kind of love I hope to have with Myia.

“Sergio, you okay?” Myia asks, sensing something’s wrong.

“My Papa passed away,” I say, and she grabs my hand, squeezing it tight.

Myia sits in the chair, and I sink to the floor, laying my head in her lap as she runs her fingers through my hair. I let the tears flow; I don’t care. Real men can cry. I loved my Papa, and I’ll miss him. I have calls and plans to set, but being with Myia feels right now.

Myia runs her fingers through my hair, soothing the ache within me. I can’t shake the pain, but as I rest my head in her lap, her warmth wraps around me like a comforting blanket. I close my eyes, letting her fingers work magic to drown out the turmoil.

Fueled by desperation, I look up at her, capturing her gaze. I pull her down to me, crashing my lips into hers. The kiss ignites a fire, a passionate spark that pushes the pain away, if only for a while. I help her slip out of her nightgown, and she shines with a beauty that takes my breath away.

As I undress, I know this is a temporary fix to my hurt. I lay her down, feeling the connection pulsing between us. When I thrust into her, it’s slow at first, powerful and deliberate, as I lose myself in her embrace. But soon, the rhythm quickens, driven by the urgency of my desire and her soft moans, filling the room with the sound of our shared bliss. In this moment, it’s just us, and the pain begins to fade into the background, replaced by the intensity of our connection.

The beast is taking over; I pull out, flipping Myia over and thrusting into her as she grabs the headboard. She feels so damn good wrapped around me. I move harder, pulling her up by her hair, my free hand rubbing her clit as she squeezes me like a vise, driving me wild.

“Sergio,” she moans out as she climaxes, and I can’t help but growl like a beast claiming its prey.

The pleasure is so intense that it sends waves of tingling sensation through my body. I pull out of her bliss and lie down, feeling her head resting on my chest. For a moment, everything feels right, but then reality hits hard.

I open my eyes, and the weight of my loss crashes over me. Myia isn’t here next to me anymore. I get up and move to the shower, the cool tile grounding me as I turn on the water. I must brush my teeth to shake off the fog in my mind. There’s so much going on. Last night, I made phone calls, trying to sort through the chaos. Uncle Metto is coming today to help with everything, but the thought of facing it all feels heavy on my shoulders.

One step at a time, I remind myself, knowing I have to keep moving forward despite the pain.

I don’t know how long I spend in the shower, the water cascading over me like a temporary escape from reality. When I finally step out and get dressed, I head downstairs. Elio is at the table, munching on breakfast, and Myia gives me a small smile. It’s a brief flicker of warmth amidst the storm brewing inside me.

As I sit, she makes me a plate and slides it toward me, pouring a cup of coffee that steams in the cool morning air. I appreciate her efforts, but the weight of everything crushes me. I’m not just a man grieving; I’m a boss, a leader in this world. I have to be strong to maintain control, but the thought of saying goodbye to my Papa is a different kind of pain—raw and suffocating.

I stare at the food, but my appetite is gone. My heart feels heavy, each beat a reminder of my loss. I know I should be focused and that I have responsibilities to uphold, but the grief threatens to pull me under. I look at Myia, grateful for her presence yet acutely aware that even the most potent leaders bear scars that run deep.

It’s going to be a busy day

Chapter Twenty-Four

Sergio

As I stand before my father’s mahogany casket, a wave of emotions crashes over me. His hands rest peacefully over his chest, eyes closed, and he looks just like himself for a moment. I lean down and kiss his forehead, feeling the coldness of his skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of our memories. “Papa, love you,” I whisper as I rub his lifeless hand, wishing I could bring him back, if only for a moment.

My heart aches for my mother, a wreck in the wake of his passing. I must be strong for her and Myia, who stays close and offers silent support. We stand amid chaos—war still raging outside, a grim reminder of the world around us. We are going to war. Roen and the others are ready; the fire for vengeance burns deep within me.

As I take my seat to listen to the priest, I can’t help but reflect on the man my father was. He repented for his sins and found solace in the church, yet I know the truth of his life—a brutal and ruthless man. Sixty-four years, he was robbed of time with his grandkids and the chance to guide us further. I was fucking robbed of a father.

When the moment comes to carry him out, my heart feels as heavy as the casket itself. My brother Ace, Uncle Matteo, Elio, and Salvatore—we lift him with reverence, knowing this is our final act of love. The church’s cemetery is more private, where we can honor him away from prying eyes. As we watch the hearse drive away, a tear escapes, rolling down my cheek. The pain is overwhelming. He was a hard man but also a great father and mentor, instilling in us the values of fairness and love.

“Fucking Aldo leaving me with all you assholes,” Uncle Matteo chuckles, trying to lighten the mood.

I can’t help but respond, “Fuck off, old man.” It’s a small comfort amidst the sorrow.

As they lower him into the ground, we stand together—men, brothers, cousins, friends, my son, nephews, and Myia. I know deep down that Papa would be proud. He told me so. The dirt covers him, sealing away the man who shaped us, leaving only memories behind. I walk away, the ache in my chest a constant reminder of my loss, hoping he’ll visit me in dreams, to feel his presence once more.

---

At Ma’s and Papa’s house in Sicily, we gather to celebrate a life once lived. I look at the photos adorning the walls, and it strikes me how much I resemble him—a spitting image. Memories flood back of my grandparents, their love and warmth, tragically cut short by an ambush. They were older, yet that didn’t lessen the pain. They wanted to take Nonno down and succeeded in the cowardly act of violence.

“They were great; your Papa is with them now,” Uncle Matteo reassures me. “He’s watching over you, and you’ll make him proud. Elio has it in him, just like you and your Papa. You’ve created this family, and it’s time to grow.” His words are a balm to my wounded soul, and I can’t help but feel a flicker of pride at being part of something larger than myself.

I glance over at Myia, glowing with our child’s life. They are close to Ma, and their bond is strong and unbreakable.

I see Papa’s office. I can picture my father sitting in his office, a drink in hand, cigar smoke weaving through the air as he smiles, teasing Ma about her worries. At that moment, I swear I see him smiling back at me, a fleeting shadow before it fades into memory. But love remains a powerful force guiding me as I navigate this world without him.

“Sergio, I was trying to get your attention. I was going to lie down. I am not feeling very well,” Myia says, her sad eyes searching mine, a plea for comfort.

“Si, I will come make sure you are good,” I reply, my instincts kicking in. I walk with her to the room we are staying in on the lower level tonight.

The day’s weight hangs heavy, and Ma needs us close. I step into the room, immediately going on high alert, checking everything—the windows, the bathroom, the closet. This life makes you vigilant; the scars from being shot and stabbed remind me that danger is always lurking. But this time, my heart races for a different reason; I have Myia, our son, and the unborn baby to protect.

“Sergio, are you okay?” Myia’s voice pulls me back to the moment, her gaze penetrating my stoic facade. “This must be hard for you.”

“No, I am in pain. Death brings that out. I think of my Papa and Alberto,” I say, the words escaping like a broken dam. The grief is a heavy cloak, suffocating yet familiar.

“I am so sorry. I wish I could take that pain away. I love you. I do. I hate that you are hurting,” she says, reaching for me. Her touch ignites a flicker of warmth in the cold abyss of my sorrow.

“I love you too. I will be in later; I have to entertain the guests still,” I say, pulling her close for a hug. In that embrace, I find a momentary refuge from the storm swirling around us.

As I step out of the room, guilt gnaws at my insides. Myia has been sick throughout this pregnancy, and I feel the weight of leaving her alone. I need to make her my wife to solidify the bond we share. But as I walk toward the gathering, the thought of facing anyone makes my stomach churn. So many here feel fake, their condolences like empty shells.

The party has started to wind down, but the air is thick with the echoes of shared memories, tears shed, and laughter that feels almost out of place. Ma has been up and down, her strength waning as she grapples with the loss. Alberto’s name surfaces repeatedly; each mentions a reminder of the pain in our hearts. Papa is with him now, and the thought brings solace and a more profound ache.

I scan the room, searching for anything that could anchor me. I lean down to kiss Ma, and she offers me a small, bittersweet smile that pierces through my hardened exterior. I stand here; all I want is to retreat, lay down beside Myia, feel her warmth envelop me, and lose myself in her presence. In this moment of chaos, I need her touch to remind me that love still shines through, even in the darkest times.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Sergio

It’s been a few days since my Papa passed, and now I’m stuck here in this warehouse, fuming. Last night, they crossed a line I never thought they’d dare to. One of my clubs—my first club, the one I built with my own hands at just eighteen—was burned to ashes. That place was my blood, my sweat, my legacy. Who do they think they are, thinking they can take everything I’ve worked for?

I’m done playing nice. Do they want a war? They’re about to get it. I have one of the bastards in the chair right now. The one caught setting my club on fire. He’s going to pay for his sins. He has pictures of Myia, and there’s a hit on my son’s head. Not just a threat—an outright declaration of war.

Do they think they can intimidate me? They have no idea who they’re dealing with. I’ll make them regret ever crossing me. They’ll learn that in my world, there are consequences. And I won’t stop until I’ve taken everything from them, just like they did to me. They’ve awakened a beast, and I won’t rest until I avenge what they’ve taken.

I stride down the hall, a lighter and a can of gas in one hand. We worked him over last night, and he finally spilled what we needed to know. The hitman is Red Demon, and that just happens to be ACE. He confirmed he got the call late last night, pretending to play along, but I’m counting on it working in our favor.

As I approach him, I can’t help but smile—a predator sizing up its prey. “You are not a good man,” I say, my voice low and menacing. “Here’s the deal: if you can make it past me, you can live.”

He charges at me, weak and desperate, but it’s laughable. I sidestep him easily and land a punch that sends him crashing to the ground. I pour the gas over him, relishing the panic in his eyes as he realizes what will happen. He screams, begging for his life, but there’s no mercy for a man who would dare threaten Myia.

I flick my lighter, the flame dancing in the darkness, and toss it at him. In an instant, he’s engulfed in flames, rolling and writhing in agony. The sight fuels my fury; this is justice for every threat he posed, every ounce of fear he tried to instill.

I walk away, his screams echoing in my ears, a reminder of the price of betrayal. I text the crew, letting them know they can handle the rest. This is my world, and I will not let anyone take what’s mine. They’ve awakened a storm, and I won’t stop until every last one of them pays.

I haven’t seen this side of me in a long time. “Ace is on the way,” Mario says, handing me a joint. He knows I need this. I inhale deeply, letting the smoke fill my lungs, then exhale slowly, savoring the moment.

I’m a devil awakened, a force to be reckoned with. He’s right—I’ve tried to be a fair man but never mistaken my fairness for weakness. These fuckers brought this out in me, and I’m done being soft. The only thing I’ll try not to do is bring this chaos home. My son, Myia, our unborn child—that’s what I’m fighting to protect.

We settle into our seats, the world’s weight resting on my shoulders. I pour us a big glass, the liquid swirling like the storm brewing inside me.

“Mario, I told you I would die for Myia and our baby, my son. I meant it. I’m going to be ruthless. I need the old me to come out for this war. If I could give her a normal life, I would—trust me, that thought has crossed my mind more times than I can count. But we both know there’s only one way out.”

“Si, I know the feeling,” he replies, his voice steady and understanding. “It’s crossed my mind, too. That’s what makes us human. We’re not just killers; we do what we were taught. It’s kill or be killed. The only thing we can do is change the family’s path to make fewer enemies.”

I nod, feeling the truth in his words. This life is a relentless cycle of violence, and as much as I want to shield Myia and our child from it, I know it’s a battle I can’t escape. I’ll unleash the monster within me if it means ensuring their safety. We’re men of this world, and I’ll stop at nothing to protect what’s mine, even if it means becoming the very thing I’ve tried to avoid. This war is just starting, and I’m ready to carve a path through anyone who dares to stand in my way.

“I know you love Myia; I see it,” Mario says, his eyes steady on mine. “I was initially worried, but then I saw how you looked at her. She’s your world and your soul. I was upset for a while, but I’m good now.” He offers me his blessing, a gesture that carries weight in our world.

“Si, I do love her,” I reply, my voice firm.

I don’t need his blessing to know what I feel; my love for Myia is undeniable, a fire that fuels my every action. In this life of chaos and violence, she’s the one pure thing I strive to protect. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe, even if it means wading deeper into darkness.

Ace comes in and pours a drink. We will discuss the plan. The fucker called Red Demon to do a hit. Ace is the best hitman around, and we have one secret weapon. I fucking hope it works in our favor.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Sergio

“I have his address,” Ace says, his voice steady and full of purpose. “It wasn’t Arseni; it was his son who hired me. There’s more—he wants me to work with Gleb, his underboss. If we play this right, I can set up a meeting. We can get him to come here and flush Denis out of hiding.”

I can feel the tension in the air shift. “That could work,” I reply, a plan already forming in my mind. “If we get Gleb, he’ll lose his shit. Let’s make a plan for Friday; we’ve put this off long enough. It’s time to let our guard down twice. The boys are going with us too. It’s time they step up for the family.”

“I’ll make contact,” Ace says, a grin spreading across his face. “The idiots will only have a few men with Gleb. I couldn’t fucking believe it when they called me for the hit. I feel like that was fate right there.”

His grin reveals the monster within him, and I can’t help but admire that ferocity. This is it—the moment we’ve been waiting for. We’re not just going to send a message; we’re going to deliver a blow that shakes them to their core. The family comes first; I’ll ensure we execute this plan flawlessly. We’re rising from this chaos, stronger and more ruthless than ever.

“Si, I am ready to go home,” Mario says softly. “Fiona and Mav want a movie night. They know it won’t be long before they head to the safe house.”

This is all weighing on us. I want to see Myia; a lot of shit is going down, and it’s happening fast. The bloodbath is starting, and we don’t know the outcome, but I feel it—we will win this. We have to. I’ve thought about maybe we need to figure out a way to limit our enemies; I’ve got a lot of them.

“Si, same. We have to be here in the morning. I’m not going to sit here and lie; shit is weighing on me. I’m still in grief over Albero, Papa. I’m fucking worried about my son, Myia, the baby. The beast is coming out; that darkness is fueling me,” I sigh.

“I’ve been having issues with Luna. I think she’s trying to adjust to this life. Maybe Myia can help her.” Ace’s voice is tight, and the stress is evident.

He’s never been in love with his ex, and having Luna here pushes him to his limits. We’re all feeling it—the pressure, the danger, and the uncertainty. But we have to keep fighting and keep pushing through.

“I am going,” I state as I stand.

They nod. I walk to grab my keys and put on my suit jacket. I head out to my car, feeling the world’s weight on my shoulders. I am ruthless, and sometimes, I’m tired of fighting for our lives. This wasn’t always like this. We were always the most substantial Mafia family, and then I took over, making us even more powerful. I came fearless, but I wasn’t a fair man.

I start the engine, and the low growl resonates through the air, filling me with purpose. I put it in gear and hit the open road. In my rearview mirror, I see two cars trailing behind me. They’re not my men. Instinct kicks in, and I shift, moving faster. This car can go past 200 mph, and I drift around corners, weaving in and out of traffic.

The thrill of the chase surges through me, a reminder that I won’t back down. I won’t let anyone threaten what we’ve built. Not now. Not ever. I push the gas, moving faster. I turn sharply around a corner, feeling the rush. One of the cars behind me smashes into another vehicle with a deafening crash, but the other one is still on my tail, coming up fast. I make a sharp turn and accelerate hard. The pursuing car can’t make the turn and spins out, leaving chaos behind me.

I keep pushing the speed, adrenaline coursing through my veins, ensuring no one is trailing me. Once home, I enter the code and drive into the garage, shutting the engine down with a satisfying thud. I need to fuck Myia and have a drink; my heart is racing.

As I step inside, the aroma of food hits me, rich and inviting. I head to the kitchen, and there’s Myia, her smile radiant. In an instant, I’m on her, grabbing her and smashing my lips into hers, kissing her fiercely, dominating her. The thrill of the chase lingers, and I can’t help but want to lose myself in her, drowning in the heat of the moment.

“The food is ready. Eat, and then we can play,” Myia says with a sly smile.

“No, I need to feel,” I reply, pulling her dress up.

With urgency, I slide her panties down, feeling the heat radiate between us. I undid my pants, and as I thrust into her, we both gasped, lost in a wave of bliss. It’s pure ecstasy, the world around us disappearing as we find ourselves in this exquisite connection, each moment intensifying our desire. Thrusting harder into her as she screams out, her walls clamp around my cock tightly; my eyes roll back, pounding into her harder. I reach around, running her clit.

“Sergio, yes, I am going to cum!!” she screams out.

“Kitty, cum for me,” I growl.

“Fuck, I am cumming! She screams out.

“Yeah, Kitty, take me with you,” I growl.

I thrust, and my cock jerks and pulsates inside her bliss as she climaxes hard. We both call out each other’s names. I pull out of her, sedated and hungry now. She smiles as I fix her. I love coming home to her and fucking her with a hot meal and drink ready for me.

We eat, and I wonder whether I should let her know I have the same feelings she does about wanting a different life.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Myia

We finished our dinner, lying side by side, the flickering TV casting a warm glow around us, a comforting distraction from the world outside. But then, a sudden noise jolted us both, and the acrid smell of smoke filled the air. My heart raced as panic set in. Sergio sprang into action, pulling me along with an urgency that sent chills down my spine.

Peering out the window, I felt dread wash over me—the guest house was engulfed in flames. My breath caught as I realized the danger we were in.

“We need to go!” he said, his voice firm and commanding, and I followed him out the door.

Outside, I saw Elio and Salvatore, guns drawn, their expressions a mix of resolve and readiness. The chaos around us escalated, gunfire ringing in the air, sending shivers through me. Sergio swiftly punched in a code, revealing a hidden door that rose from the ground.

“Go down there now,” he ordered, lifting the door open with an authority that made my heart swell with fear and admiration.

Without a second thought, I descended into the darkness, the door sealing shut behind me. In the underground safehouse, I was enveloped in a sense of isolation tinged with a strange sense of security. I had walked over this hidden space countless times, unaware of its significance. Sitting on the couch, my heart pounded as I thought of Sergio and the others, the echoes of gunshots still ringing in my ears. Tears streamed down my face as worry consumed me. Would they make it out alive?

This place felt safe and suffocating, my mind racing about the danger outside. My gaze fell on a piece of paper on the table, and I reached for it with trembling hands. The instructions were clear.

Do not open that door. Someone will come and get you. Do not let anyone in without saying the word ‘Yellow.’ You will know it is our men. There is a gun under the cabinet—use it if you have to, in case someone gets in.

Reading the words brought a fresh wave of fear, but I felt a flicker of strength deep down. I had to trust in him, in his ability to protect us. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what lay ahead. I would wait, determined to survive, knowing he was fighting to keep us safe.

I had lost track of time down here, pacing the floor and feeling the walls close in around me. Anxiety coiled tightly in my chest, and a sense of dread settled deep in my stomach. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, that Sergio was in danger. The silence was suffocating; every creak and distant sound made my heart race.

Then, a firm knock broke the stillness, followed by Ace’s voice crackling through the speaker. “Yellow, it’s me, Ace.” Relief washed over me, but it was fleeting, quickly replaced by panic.

“Is everything okay? What is going on?” I asked, my voice trembling as I opened the door.

“Let’s go,” he said, his tone urgent and harsh. I followed him, my heart pounding as we stepped outside. The sight that met my eyes was devastating—the guest house was nothing but a charred skeleton, reduced to ashes.

“Myia, Sergio was shot. We don’t know his condition,” Ace said, his expression grave.

A cold wave of fear crashed over me. “What about the boys? Are they safe?” I managed to ask, my voice shaking.

“The boys are safe,” he assured me, grabbing my arm to steady me as I felt unsteady on my feet. But all I could think about was Sergio.

We climbed into the car, and as we sped toward the hospital, the realization of my love for him hit me like a freight train. I couldn’t lose him—not now, not ever. Our baby needed him. I needed him. The thought propelled me forward, even as dread filled the pit of my stomach.

When we reached the hospital, Ace helped me out of the car, and I followed him inside, my heart racing with each step. There was Sal, and then I spotted Sergio’s mother, Francesca. She looked up at me, her expression a mix of pain and determination.

“Sergio is in surgery. We’ll know more when the doctor comes out,” she said, her voice breaking.

We settled into the waiting room, and I kept glancing at the clock, each tick amplifying my unease. Francesca’s worry hung heavy in the air, and I couldn’t help but feel for her. She had already faced so much loss, and now her son was fighting for his life.

“Ace, I need to know the truth. I’m pregnant and can’t handle this stress,” I said, tears streaming down my face, my voice barely above a whisper.

He met my gaze, his expression somber. “Sergio was shot in the back three times, and he lost a lot of blood. I don’t know more than that. I’m sorry. He’s strong; you know he won’t leave you—not like this.”

His words sank in, a mix of hope and despair swirling inside me. I had to believe in Sergio’s strength, in his will to fight. He had to pull through—for me, for our baby. I wiped my tears, steeling myself for whatever came next, knowing I had to hold on to hope, no matter how fragile it felt.

“Mrs. Bianchi,” the doctor calls for Sergio’s mother, and my heart races as I step closer, my breath hitching in my throat. “Sergio is going to make a full recovery in six weeks. He got lucky—the bullet would have gone two inches to the right, and we would be having a different conversation. You may see him in an hour.” His expression is stern and professional—a hard man, as doctors often are.

I let out a sigh of relief, my shoulders relaxing. “Thank you for saving him,” I manage to say, my voice shaky with emotion.

He nods and walks off, leaving me feeling like a weight has been lifted, yet the reality still looms over us. We lost someone—his father. I glance around, seeing the relief on everyone’s faces, but it’s bittersweet.

Finally, I’m allowed to see Sergio. Francesca walks in with me, silent support as we approach his bedside. The sight of him lying there, hooked up to all kinds of machines, nearly breaks me. I want to cry but hold back the tears, determined to stay strong. Francesca gently takes his hand, and as his eyes flutter open, he looks at her, then turns to me.

I rush to his side, lean down, and kiss his lips, forcing a smile through my fear. “I was so scared of losing you,” I whisper, tears streaming down my face.

“It takes a lot more than this to take me out,” he replies, his voice groggy yet comforting.

“I love you,” I say, kissing him again, feeling the warmth of his presence. “Now is not the time to be joking.”

He chuckles softly, and that sound fills me with hope. I know he will be okay, and as I hold his hand tightly, I feel a fierce determination. We’ll get through this together, no matter what challenges lie ahead. I know we have a lot of healing for him to do.

I take a seat, not leaving him.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Sergio

Part two

It’s been eight weeks, and I am healed, thanks to a lot of hard work, and I have fully recovered. We are in the room, and she is so beautiful. I am going to make Myia my wife. I have her kneeling before me as I rub my hard cock over her full, soft lips. Her mouth parts. I push in. I thrust to hit the back of Myia’s throat. I thrust fast in and out of her warm, wet mouth as she gags. Myia is losing her breath. I keep going in and out. She has her eyes on me. Drool runs down her chin. Finally, she is breathing out of her nose. I pull out fast as she catches her breath. I grab Myia’s head and push into her bliss again, this time gripping a handful of her hair, pulling hard. Myia’s eyes are watering, and her mascara is running down her pretty face.

“That is it, suck my big fucking cock, take all of me; I want you to drink every drop of my cum.” I say with a sly smile.

Myia is twirling and doing something, and she has me throwing my head back with my eyes rolling. I thrust harder. If she were a good girl, she would have stayed, making my cock hard all the time, not making life hard. I am ready to fill her mouth and watch her swallow every drop; she is so magnificent this way. I throw my head back as my cock jerks and pulses. I let out a loud growl fuck like I can’t stop. I look down as she drinks all of me like a good Kitty.

“Such a good Kitty, stand up and strip for me.” I am harsh, but she needs to learn who owns her now. She did this.

I watch as she starts to take off her sundress. She is working out of her panties, fuck this woman drives me mad. I want to make love to her, but I have other plans right now. I walk over to her with a smile; I reach down and grab my tie. I hold her, bending her over the couch and grabbing her wrist as I tie them tight behind her back. I learned she is her person, and what she gives me is her choice, a gift. One that I am taking and dominating.

I enjoy the way her body responds to my touch. I deliver hard swats that resonate in the room, her breath hitching in a mix of pleasure and anticipation. I love it when she gasps, her skin turning a lovely shade of red. It’s a sign of her pleasure, and it drives me mad with desire.

“Sergio, I need to cum, please!” she cries out, her voice thick with need.

“Cum for me,” I urge, my voice low as I continue to tease her, feeling the heat radiate from her.

I thrust in two fingers. I know her spot. I know how to give her what she wants.

Her climax hits, and I savor every moment, feeling her body react beneath me. I know how much she craves this, how much she needs me. I can’t help but feel a rush of love and desire as I take her deeper into this shared moment, where everything else fades away, and it’s just us exploring the heights of our passion together.

I let my palm hit her flesh with a sharp crack, the sound echoing in the room as I continued, each strike drawing out her cries. Her skin flushes a deep red, igniting something primal in me. She pleads for more, her voice thick with desire, and I can feel the tension building between us. I pull away, flip her over, and get between her legs. With a low growl, I lean in closer, my breath warm against her skin as I devour her essence, the intoxicating scent of her arousal enveloping me. I want to taste her completely, to savor the moment as she writhes beneath my touch, lost in her pleasure.

“Sergio, please,” she cries, the urgency in her voice pushing me further.

“Let go,” I urge, feeling her body respond to my command.

As she climaxes, I relish the moment, the warmth of her body, the sound of her pleasure filling me with a sense of power. Her hands are bound, unable to grasp for me, yet I know she wants to. I push two fingers deep inside her, feeling the heat envelop me, and I’m reminded of the connection we share, dark and intense.

Every thrust sends us higher, and I can feel her tightening around me, her body begging for release.

“Take it all,” I whisper, and as she reaches that edge again, I lose myself in the moment. Our bodies collide in a rhythm that feels both wild and exhilarating.

The room is filled with our breaths, the echoes of our shared passion, and I find a sense of belonging in that darkness. It’s raw, it’s intense, and it’s everything I crave.

“Sergio, I need to cum, please baby!” Myia screams out for me to give her what she wants.

“Cum, for me,” I say, going back to her divine pussy.

Myia climaxed hard, and I swallowed her juices. She wants to grab me or something, but she can’t. Her hands are tied. I get up, pushing my cock deep inside her warm bliss. I am lost. I forgot how damn good we were together. I pound into her, feeling high on my favorite drug; there has never been a drug as good as Myia.

“Fuck, Sergio, baby, I am going to cum again.” Myia moans out as she clamps me like a vise. I throw my head back and pull out; I hear her sigh loudly in frustration before she does. I rub her juices on her ass, I thrust in her pussy and pull out, and I push in her tight little hole as she screams out, stretching her. I love her this way at my mercy. I am in; I move in and out slowly.

“Take Daddy’s cock in this ass, Kitten,” I say as I am on edge. I pound into her, and I reach around, rubbing her clit.

I pull out, flipping her on her back, lift her legs, and push in her ass. As I thrust deep and complex, I move my fingers to her little pussy, I thrust two of my thick fingers inside her, and I throw my head back, losing myself. I am ready to explode; I am on fire. Myia is screaming, and I am growling like a beast. I pull out, slamming into her pussy as she grips me like a vise, climaxing. I lose myself. I reach down, slapping her tits, squeezing them. She cries out. I am too far gone to care as my cock jerks, filling her pussy with my cum. Her screams and my growls fill the room, and sweat runs down my forehead and back. I pull out, watching my cum drip out.

“We need to clean up,” I say with a laugh.

I run the shower, and she prepares the bath and pours in oils. I watch as she sinks into the water with a sigh. I turned the shower off and decided to join her.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Sergio

“This is your fault; I’m feeling huge and still sick. You’re infuriating, Sergio,” Myia says, her voice cracking with emotion. Last night was wild, and now she’s a tangled mess of feelings.

“It takes two; you know I can’t resist being inside that tight pussy of yours, Kitty,” I reply, my tone dripping with a mix of seduction and irritation.

She lets out a loud sigh, frustration radiating from her. “It’s still your fault. You shouldn’t have brought up Elio’s responsibilities. He should be focused on other things.”

“What does Elio have to do with any of this? He’s with friends and family, doing what he needs to do,” I retort, struggling to grasp her point.

“Everything! If this baby is a boy, he’ll have to help out with the maifa,” she says, emphasizing the words with air quotes, her eyes flashing. “We know what that means—training him for something dangerous, killer.”

“Come on, Myia, we don’t have a normal life. Elio is next in line; he trains, spends time with friends, and loves fiercely. You’re overreacting. Am I a killer now?” I shoot back, my patience wearing thin.

The tension hangs heavy in the air, and I can see the emotional storm brewing in her eyes. It’s exhausting, and I can’t help but feel the anger bubbling beneath the surface.

“You know what? Just leave me alone. I can’t stand you, Sergio,” Myia cries, collapsing onto the bed in frustration.

“I love you, Kitty. We’ll get through this; you and my kids are my everything,” I say, capturing her lips with mine. The kiss is urgent, filled with my desire to reassure her.

I remember how emotional Olivia was during her pregnancy with Elio. I wonder if Myia will be like this the entire time. I need to help her feel better. Mario and Ace can wait; I’m the boss here, and I come when I want.

As I kiss her more profoundly, I feel the tension in her body begin to ease. I gently push her down on the bed, noticing the nightgown she’s wearing. I hope she’s not too attached to it. With a swift motion, I tear it down, exposing her vulnerable side.

I move lower, trailing kisses along her stomach, making my way down. My instincts kick in as I reach her thighs, and I take my time, savoring the moment, wanting to bring her pleasure. But I can’t help myself; I position myself and slowly enter her warmth, feeling the heat envelop me.

With each deep thrust, I lock my gaze with hers. I want to be gentle, to show her how much she means to me. I can see the pleasure in her eyes as I lose myself in the rhythm, the connection between us intensifying.

“Sergio, I’m going to—” Myia breathes softly, her voice trailing off as I feel her grip tighten around me. The sensation drives me wild, and I know we’re both close, teetering on the edge together.

“Damn, Kitty, I love you so much,” I moan, feeling the heat between us reach its peak.

Reluctantly, I pull away, knowing I have responsibilities to handle. I need to protect my family; I’m the king, the alpha. They rely on me to lead, and I can’t disappoint them.

I kiss her one last time before heading to the shower. “I love you. I’ll be back later. Kiss our daughter for me, will you? Elio will be with me.” Another kiss and I’m off, ready to face the world outside.

“I love you. Come back to us,” Myia says with a small smile.

“I always do,” I say painfully, hating the thought of leaving her so suddenly.

Here’s a version that adds more emotional depth while keeping close to your original text:

I stand in the shower, the hot water pouring down my tense muscles. My mind races as I prepare to finalize the plans we had to put on hold for the Gelb meeting with Ace tonight. After my house blew up, I couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was on the line. This has to work; if we get him, we also get Denis, and that’s the prize I want the most. But deep down, I know it will be a bloody mess.

Once I finish, I grab a towel, dry it off quickly, and wrap it around me. As I step out of the bathroom, I realize Myia isn’t in her usual spot—she’s probably busy with chores around the house. I feel a pang of guilt for leaving her behind as I hurriedly choose my outfit, spray on some cologne, and put on my jewelry.

Walking downstairs, the warm aromas of food fill the air, and I find Myia in the kitchen, focused on making breakfast. My heart aches knowing I can’t sit down with her today.

“I’m going. I can’t have breakfast with you; I’m running late,” I say softly, leaning in to kiss her, trying to convey my love.

“Yeah, love you,” she replies, her tone slightly harsh.

“Myia, I love you,” I say earnestly, wanting her to feel the weight of my words. “I’ll text you when I get there.” I hope she understands how much she means to me, even in these chaotic moments.

“I love you. Be safe. I’m sorry I’m overreacting,” she says, kissing me.

“You’re pregnant and emotional; it’s understandable. We are under stress and have things going on. That safe house will probably be at the end of the day or early morning,” I say, rubbing her cheek.

“I knew it would happen, which is probably why I am so emotional. Just go.” Myia sighs.

I walked away, but I would stay with her if I could. A driver is coming for me today. I head out the door. He is here. I step into the back of the SUV. I don’t say anything; I am just full of rage right now.

Fuck!!!

Chapter Thirty

Sergio

I’m in the warehouse, the air thick with tension, when Ace strides into the office.

His eyes are sharp, delivering the grim news. “It went out on another person. Now it’s on Myia. They didn’t offer the hit to me on her behalf. I still have Elio, and Gelb will be at the location in two hours. We need to get him. Word from my intel is the hit on Myia is over twenty million. They upped the hit on Elio to thirty-five million with me.”

A surge of anger courses through me. “We’re going to war now. I’m not waiting a day or fucking weeks. They have a damn hit on my wife and son; I haven’t offered a hit that high.” My voice is low but filled with fury, each word deliberate.

“Si, we stand behind you,” Mario says, his voice steady but laced with fury. He stands, ready for action. “Call the Irish and tell them we are in an active war now; we’re going in for the kill.”

Bravta has been fucking with us for too long. They need to be wiped out, and I won’t hesitate. I know it’s time to call in those debts owed to me. I nod, my expression darkening.

“Get Sal to make the call. The Irish and whoever else owes us a favor, we call it in for war. This is the time.”

I can feel the weight of it all pressing down on me, an eerie feeling gnawing at the edges of my mind. I need to move Myia and Elio to a safe house with all the women and kids. This needs to happen tonight, fast.

“Get the family moved to that secure location, Mario and Sal. You call in the Irish and everyone who owes us. Let them know we’re calling in the favor. If they don’t step up, there will be hell to pay.” Anxiety simmers beneath my controlled exterior, but I refuse to show it.

Sal’s voice breaks through the haze. “The boys should come out with us. I understand Elio has the biggest hit out on him.”

“No one goes in alone. We go in as a unit. Do they think they can put a price on my family’s heads? They’re about to learn just how wrong they are.” The fire in my belly ignites further. I won’t let fear dictate my actions. This is my territory, my family, and I will protect what’s mine at all costs.

With resolve coursing through my veins, I prepare for the storm about to break. It’s time to show them what a real war looks like.

I’m getting everything together, ensuring we have the weapons vans ready. We’re going into Bravta territory, straight into Chicago, and then to their motherland. I fear no motherfucker; if they’re here, the five families will take care of them. My priority is to keep my family safe. The king will win this war, and the last man standing will be my men and me.

“I called them all in. I have it all set up; we fly out soon,” Sal says, worry evident in his eyes. “The women aren’t happy; it’s hard having doctors and machines with round-the-clock care in a secure location. Elio and Salvatore are very displeased about staying behind. They’re all being secured.”

I can see the concern etched on Sal’s face, and I understand it. Times like this worry us; you never know what your enemy has planned for you. But I like to think we will be the last fuckers standing.

It’s about survival, and I’m not backing down. We’ll show Bravta what it means to cross us. I pull in a deep breath, gathering my focus. Everything needs to be perfect, and I will make sure it is.

“We need to go get Gleb and hope it fucking works. We’re flying out next week. If they don’t come here, we go to them,” I say harshly, my voice slicing through the tension in the air.

“Si, cars are ready,” Mario replies, his face shifting into alert mode.

We step out, every nerve on edge, guns in hand, ready for anything coming our way. I’m counting on the boys and the rest of the crew to ensure the women are safe. I know they wanted to go on the mission, but deep down, I realize I can’t bring Elio along. The thought of him by my side weighs heavily on me. If I let my focus drift to his safety, it could cloud my judgment and get us both killed.

As we move, the gravity of our situation presses down on me. Elio’s safety is paramount, but I can’t afford the distraction. This is war, and I need to remain sharp, an unyielding force in a world that thrives on chaos.

I glance at my men, their faces resolute, ready to follow me into the fray. They understand the stakes, and their loyalty ignites the fire within me. Leaving my family behind is a burden, but it’s necessary for our survival.

“Let’s move,” I command, my voice steady. There’s a war to fight, and we are prepared to show them the true meaning of power. The last man standing will be me—and I will ensure that’s the case.

We pile into the SUV, the engine roaring to life as I scan my phone. A text comes through: they’re secure. The boys are displeased with my decision to leave them behind, and I can feel their restlessness. They might come along anyway; we’ll see. I let Myia’s words sink in. They’re young, and for now, I want them to stay that way, to live a little longer before being pulled into this life. They took their oaths; they’ve killed; they’re made men. The same fate awaits them as the rest of us. We operate by the rules of our world, not like civilians.

We’re almost there.

“He’s there with five men,” Ace says, eyes glued to his phone, voice steady and low.

Perfect. We pull down the dirt road, the others holding back to provide cover. As we roll in, I spot him—five fuckers behind him. This is our moment; the others will snipe for us. It has to work.

Ace steps out, moving with lethal grace, approaching Gleb like a predator. We got word they’re in position. I watch as Gleb’s expression shifts to confusion when Ace identifies himself. They know Ace.

Men drop around us, silent shadows falling. Ace grips Gleb and gives him the shot. “He might need to sleep; it was a long flight,” I mutter, a dark chuckle escaping my lips.

The air is tense, and I can feel the power radiating from my crew. We are not just men but forces to be reckoned with, dangerous and relentless. The devil is out to play, and we’re ready to show the world exactly what that means. In this game, we are the kings and will emerge victorious.

He tosses him in the trunk. We are heading back to the warehouse. Make a phone call and see what happens.