Page 8 of Mafia Wars

“Just a coffee.”

She gathers the menus and walks away.

“You aren’t going to eat?” Luna asks, she’s still so nervous, and I want nothing more than for her to relax.

“You aren’t in trouble, and you aren’t losing your job. So relax,” I say.

“Then what are we doing here?” she glances around.

“Eating, well, you are eating, and I’m learning about you, Luna.”

Her cheeks flush, and I see the slight lowering of her shoulders. “What about your family?” She finally asks.

What a loaded fucking question. “I have two brothers, Taghd and Niall. We all work together in the family business.”

I’m waiting for her to ask what family business, but I’m sure she is fully aware we are mafia.

But then she tenses, glancing past me out the window.

Her hand moves to the edge of the table, fingers twitching like she’s ready to bolt.

“What is it?” I ask, already turning to follow her line of sight.

She grabs my wrist, stopping me. “Don’t.”

The warning in her voice is clear, but so is the fear. I glance at her hand on mine, then back at her face.

“What is it?”

She exhales sharply, letting go. “He’s here. Across the street.”

I twist in my seat, ignoring her protests, and spot him instantly. The guy doesn’t stand out much—a cheap leather jacket, a smirk that makes me want to break his jaw. He’s flanked by two others, both trying too hard to look tough. I don’t have to ask her who; this is clearly the boyfriend who uses her as a punching bag.

My fingers curl into fists. “Stay here.”

“Wait, don’t—”

I glance down at her. “He’s your boyfriend?” I already know, but I just need to be one hundred percent certain. She gives a nod of her head.

“I promise I’ll be gentle,” I lie and get to my feet. Pushing through the front door.

The air outside is sharp, but I barely notice. My focus is on him. On the way his smug expression falters when he sees me coming across the road. The alleyway they are down is directly across from the restaurant.

I glance down the street, scanning the shadows that cling to the edges of the buildings. It’s quiet—eerily quiet. No cameras, no witnesses, just the hum of the city far in the distance. Perfect. I take one last look around, ensuring there’s no one here to see what’s about to happen. My pulse is calm, steady, though the anger beneath my skin is anything but.

“You lost?” His voice cuts through the stillness as he steps forward, his cocky swagger as fake as the confidence in his eyes. Behind him, his friends linger, shifting uneasily. Smart of them to hang back.

“Not at all,” I reply, my voice cool. My hands hang loosely at my sides, but every muscle in my body is coiled, ready.

He looks me up and down, his smirk widening. “You lookin’ for something?” he says, his tone dripping with mockery.

I let the corner of my mouth curl into a grin, slow and deliberate. “Yeah,” I say, taking a step closer, “and I think I found it.”

His smirk falters, confusion flickering across his face. He doesn’t have time to figure it out. My fist connects with his jaw before he even sees it coming. The crack of bone echoes down the street, sharp and satisfying. He stumbles back, his hand flying to his face as blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. His friends lurch forward instinctively but stop themselves, uncertainty freezing them in place.

“You’re gonna regret that,” he spits, his voice dripping venom as he straightens, blood staining his teeth.

I pull the gun from my waistband, its weight grounding me in the moment. “No,” I say, leveling my gaze at him, “you will.”

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