Page 74 of Masked Mafia's Runaway Bride

I headed for the door, and a thousand thoughts fought for space in my head. What condition would I find them in? Was Mirella even still alive? And Alex—my son.

The thought of him in Don Carlos’s hands was enough to make my blood boil. My father had always been ruthless, but going after a child? That was a new low, even for him.

I stepped outside. My car was parked down the street, and as I walked toward it, I made a silent promise.

This ends tonight.

One way or another, I was getting them back. And if my father thought I was playing his game, he was in for a rude awakening.

*****

The air inside the warehouse was cold and eerie. The kind that prickled at your skin and made every breath feel like a risk. Don Carlos stood tall, his figure backlit by the flickering overhead bulb. His voice cut through the silence as he turned toward Mr. Gallo, who was chained beside Mirella.

“Choose, old man,” Don Carlos commanded. “Your daughter, or the location of the safe.”

Mr. Gallo’s face was pale, his features lined with exhaustion and pain. But his eyes—they burned with something fierce. I knew that look. A father’s desperation. I had seen it before, years ago, in a mirror.

“I told you, don’t tell him anything!” Mirella’s voice broke through the stillness. Her arms pulled against the chains holding her, but it was no use. Her strength, though fierce, wasn’t enough to break steel.

I stayed quiet, leaning against a rusted support beam, the gun in my hand feeling heavier by the second. My father’s eyes darted to me, watching and waiting. Testing me. I kept my expression neutral, cold even. No mischief, no emotion, no tells. I tried to avoid eye contact with Mirella because I didn’t want to risk breaking character.

Mr. Gallo’s voice cracked when he finally spoke. “It’s behind the bookshelf. In my study.”

Mirella’s eyes widened in disbelief. “No! You can’t—”

Don Carlos’s laughter was sharp, cutting through the room. “Behind a bookshelf?” He shook his head, pacing slowly. “All this time… under my nose. How amusing. I suppose I overestimated you, Gallo. Too obvious. Too simple.”

I could feel the shift in the room as Don Carlos stopped pacing. His gaze landed on me, a glint of malice in his eyes. He gestured toward the prisoners with a casual wave.

“Once my men confirm the safe is there, Sergio, kill them all.”

I stood straighter, my heart racing, though I kept my face unreadable. “All of them?”

“Yes, all of them,” he snapped. “They’re of no use to me now.”

I nodded, my grip tightening around the gun. The warehouse felt too quiet, too still. Mirella’s eyes met mine, and for a moment, there was nothing but silent desperation between us. She didn’t plead or beg. But her eyes—they asked the question she couldn’t say out loud.

I stepped forward, the sound of my boots echoing off the concrete. Don Carlos’s back was to me now as he barked orders to one of his men to get his car ready to go check the safe.

This was my moment.

The first shot rang out, the sound deafening in the confined space. Don Carlos staggered forward, clutching his arm, his face twisted in shock. Before he could turn, the second shot hit his leg, and he crumpled to the ground.

The room exploded into chaos.

Don Carlos looked up at me, his hand pressed to his bleeding arm, his expression a mix of pain and disbelief. “What… what are you doing?”

“Ending this,” I said, stepping closer. “Your reign of terror stops here.”

His voice turned cold, his eyes narrowing. “You think this changes anything? Men! Kill him!”

No one moved.

Don Carlos’s gaze darted around the room, confusion creeping into his features. His men stood still, their guns lowered. One by one, they stepped back, their loyalty shifting right before his eyes.

“I say kill him,” he barked at them, but no one moved.

“They are also tired of your reign, father.”

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