Page 28 of Dark Mafia Vows

“Please, don’t hurt her,” I shout again, desperation thick in my voice. But my words fall on deaf ears. I can feel my legs start to buckle beneath me, and just as I’m about to gather the strength to fight back, everything blurs.

The last thing I see is the girl’s wide, frightened eyes before darkness engulfs me.

12

DARIO

Iadjust the weight of my gun in the waistband of my pants as the car cruises through the dimly lit streets.

Tonight, Esteban’s getting a visit he won’t forget. I warned him, publicly and clearly, yet the bastard thought he could outsmart me—tried to disappear into a shiny new house on the outskirts of the city. The fool should have known better. Now, he’s made it personal.

The car screeches to a halt in front of Esteban’s Mansions on the Upper East Side—his latest pathetic attempt at hiding after he tried to scam me. A bitter chuckle escapes my lips as one of my men swings the door open.

I’ve had a guy on the inside planted within his security team for months. Esteban, that clueless bastard, didn’t have a clue that every move he made was my business all along.

I’m not one to boast about my street smarts, but in moments like this, I savor just how easily I play these games. He thinks he’s been running the show. But I’ve been pulling the strings, waiting for the right time to cut him off for good.

It’s a shame he’s not even going to live to tell anyone how he tried to double-cross me.

I step out of the car, straightening my coat as the night air bites at my skin. My men surround me, ready for action, but the truth is I don’t need them for this. I’m here to finish this with my own hands. The thrill of what’s about to happen rushes through me, my fingers itching to grip the cold steel of my gun.

Like I said, I’m not proud. Just too damn good at what I do. And Esteban? He’s about to find out the hard way that no one crosses me and walks away breathing.

My black coat flutters in the cold breeze as I stride toward the entrance, my mind locked on one goal. My men fan out ahead of me, shadows moving with precision. Each one grips a custom Glock fitted with suppressors, their sleek black barrels glinting under the dim streetlights.

A brief, almost inaudiblephutbreaks the stillness, just a soft whisper of death as the silenced rounds slice through the air. Esteban’s guards don’t even have a chance to react, their bodies crumpling to the ground with barely a sound. The modified pistols make quick, clean work of them. No loud shots, no alarms—just a quiet, professional elimination. Exactly how I want it.

I can’t afford to draw any attention tonight. Not yet. At least until the moment I’m standing right in front of him.

When I reach the first door, I don’t waste time knocking. I slam my boot into it, the wood splitting under the force. The door creaks and groans before giving way. My men flank me as we head straight for the bedroom.

“Wakey, wakey, Esteban! We’re here for a little chat,” I singsong, my voice echoing off the walls. The sound alone is enough to rattle the coward out of his sleep.

We reach the main bedroom door—locked, of course. I raise a brow at my men, and with a quick shove, they force it open. What greets me inside makes my blood boil, and a smirk curl my lips at the same time. Esteban’s lying in the middle of a king-sized bed surrounded by five naked women of all shapes and sizes.

Amusement quickly turns to disgust. The man has a family—a cousin he’s lost because of his own stupidity—and here he is, rolling around with whores as if his world isn’t falling apart.

“The room’s soundproof, boss,” one of my men mutters, his teeth gritted.

I pull my gun from my waistband, taking aim at a ridiculously expensive lamp beside the bed. The shot rings out like thunder, and the glass shatters, sending shards flying. The bang jolts Esteban and his little harem out of their sleep. The women scream, scrambling off the bed in a frenzy of confusion and terror.

Esteban stumbles to his feet, eyes wide with panic as he locks onto me. Reality hits him like a bullet—and I’m the one holding the gun.

Esteban’s voice trembles as he stumbles over his words, trying to pull a pair of boxers over his waist, his hands shaking. “What’s going on?”

I step closer, the dim light casting shadows across the room. “Hello to you too, Esteban,” I sneer, my voice low and menacing. “You really thought you could run? After I gave you a clear warning, you still made me come after you?”

He stumbles backward, his eyes wide with panic as I close in on him. He’s already pleading, his voice dripping with pathetic desperation. “Dario, please, let’s talk about this. I can explain?—”

“Talk?” I cut him off with a growl, my patience gone. “I don’t talk, Esteban. Not after what I did to your cousin to show I wasn’t bluffing. I gave you one week. You’re out of time. And yet, nothing. Not a single word about what we discussed.”

He gulps, sweat beading on his forehead. “Look, Dario, it’s not as easy as I thought. Retracting the contract—there’s legal paperwork, processes?—”

“Don’t fucking piss me off further by lying to my face, Esteban,” I snarl.

I flick my hand, signaling my men, and they begin tearing apart the house, searching every room and corner. I watch Esteban’s panic rise as he sees them ripping through his belongings. He’s losing control, and he knows it.

“What are you looking for?” he asks, his voice shaking, eyes darting around.

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