Page 15 of Savage Mafia King

Enzo’s already waiting for me by the car, his dark eyes gleaming with the same dangerous intent. He knows what’s coming. He’s seen me like this before. There’s no stopping the storm once it’s been unleashed. He just gives me a nod, silent but resolute, as we load up and head straight to their headquarters. The bastards probably think they’re safe, hiding behind their walls, but they’ve forgotten who I am. Who weare.

The ride is short, tense. My men are locked and loaded, ready to follow me into hell, and that’s exactly where we’re going tonight. The Russians are going to pay. They’re going to bleed.

I grip the steering wheel so hard I can feel the leather creak under my hands. My mind keeps flashing back to Elena, the fear in her eyes when she told me what happened. That motherfucker had the audacity to threatenher—to think he could lay a finger on what’s mine.

“They’re going to regret the day they were born,” I growl, more to myself than anyone else in the car.

Enzo cracks his knuckles beside me. “Let’s make sure they don’t see another one.”

By the time we pull up to the Russians’ hideout, my blood is already humming, my heart pounding in anticipation. I can feel the violence building inside me, the need to destroy. To annihilate. The warehouse looms ahead, dark and unassuming, but I know what waits inside. I know the men who think they’re untouchable, hiding behind their guns and their deals.

But not tonight. Tonight, they die.

We park a few blocks away, making sure we aren’t spotted. My men fall in line beside me, their guns ready, their faces set in stone. We move silently through the shadows, the cold air biting at our skin, but the heat of my anger keeps me focused. There’s no hesitation, no second thoughts. They crossed the line, and now I’m going to bury them for it.

We reach the building, the back entrance where I know their guards are posted. Two of them, smoking cigarettes, laughing about something I couldn’t give a fuck about. They don’t even know we’re here.

I signal to Enzo, and within seconds, he’s on them. He moves like a shadow, quick and efficient, a blade in his hand. One guard goes down with a swift slice to the throat, blood spraying acrossthe concrete. The other barely has time to react before Enzo drives the knife into his gut, twisting it. The gurgling sounds fill the alley, but there’s no time to savor the kill.

We step over their bodies, making our way inside. The place reeks of sweat, smoke, and cheap booze. It’s dimly lit, with men lounging around, laughing, thinking they’re invincible. That’s going to change in about thirty seconds.

I move first, pulling out my gun, and shoot the closest guy in the head. His body drops instantly, blood pooling under him. For a second, everything freezes—then the chaos begins.

Enzo is beside me, his gun firing with deadly precision. The rest of my men fan out, filling the room with gunfire. The Russians scramble, but they’re not fast enough. One after another, they fall. Blood splatters the walls, the floor, their screams echoing in the chaos. It’s a fucking symphony of violence, and I’m the conductor.

I catch sight of one of their leaders, the fucker responsible for organizing the attacks. He tries to make a run for it, but I’m faster. I grab him by the back of his neck, slamming him into the nearest wall. His head cracks against the concrete, and he slumps down, dazed.

“You thought you could touchmywife?” I snarl, hauling him back up by his throat. “You think you can threaten what’smine?”

He’s choking, gasping for breath, his hands clawing at mine, but I don’t let go. I can feel the anger boiling over, consuming me. He’s already dead. He just doesn’t know it yet.

“Please—” he manages to rasp out, but I cut him off with a vicious punch to the face, his nose shattering under myknuckles. Blood pours down his face, mixing with the sweat, and I slam him against the wall again.

“You’re done. You’re fuckingdone,” I hiss, my grip tightening. I don’t stop. I can’t stop. The rage is too strong, the need to break him overwhelming. He dies tonight, just like the rest of them.

With one swift movement, I snap his neck. His body goes limp in my hands, and I drop him to the floor like the trash he is. It’s over. They’re all dead. The bloodbath is complete.

I step back, taking in the carnage around me. Bodies litter the floor, the stench of death thick in the air. My men are already cleaning up, making sure no one got away. There’s no one left to tell the tale. No one left to come after Elena or Marie.

I wipe the blood from my knuckles, my breath still heavy from the fight. My heart is still racing, adrenaline coursing through my veins, but now all I want is to go home. To her.

Elena.

I need to see her. To hold her. To remind her that she’s safe. That no one will ever hurt her while I’m alive.

“Let’s wrap this up,” I tell Enzo, my voice steady now that the violence has subsided. “I’m going back to my wife.”

He nods, already organizing the cleanup. We leave the bodies where they belong—in the dirt, in the dark.

15

Elena

The night feels endless, every minute stretching into an eternity as I sit in Marie’s room, holding her close. She’s fallen asleep now, her small body curled up against me like she used to do when we were younger—when it was just us against the world. The steady sound of her breathing is the only thing keeping me grounded. My mind is racing, my heart pounding in my chest, waiting for something—anything—that tells me Dimitri is okay.

He left hours ago, his face twisted with a fury I’ve never seen before. The rage in his eyes had scared me, the way he stormed out, determined to destroy the men who threatened us. And now, I’m here, clutching Marie, trying to keep my fears at bay, but the silence in the house is deafening. I can’t stop picturing him in danger, bullets flying, blood spilling. What if he doesn’t come back? What if I lose him too?

The door creaks open, and my heart leaps into my throat. I hold my breath, my body tensing, but then I see him—Dimitri. He steps into the room, and I release a shaky breath. He’s covered in blood, his clothes dirty and torn, but he’s alive.

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