Page 35 of Mafia Heir's Broken Vows

His tailored suit is untouched by the elements; he's relaxed, and confident, like he owns the world itself. He's not afraid of the consequences—he's reveling in them. His smug grin and cocky attitude send rage flaring through me.

"Welcome, Serafina," he drawls, his voice oily and smooth. "You made quite the effort to leave. Admirable, but futile."

I glare at him, my grip on Leo tightening. "What do you want? I was leaving—like you fucking told me to."

He laughs softly, shaking his head. "Isn't it obvious? Alessandro will come for you. That's who he is. And when he does—" He tilts his head with a cruel smile. "I'll be ready."

"You won't win," I hiss, my voice trembling with defiance. "He sent me away and he kicked us out. It's over, Marco. He's marrying Isabella. He won't come for me."

Marco steps closer, eyes glinting with malice. "But I've already won. He thought sending you away would keep you safe. Now, he'll have to decide—watch you die or die trying to save you."

He reaches out as if to touch Leo, and I jerk back.

"Stay away from him!"

Marco chuckles darkly. "Don't worry. I wouldn't harm the kid. But Alessandro doesn't know that." He smirks. "Fear is a powerful weapon, Serafina. One that I wield better than anyone else."

A monster with morals, what a fucking joke.

He turns away, signaling his men. "Take them inside. Let's make sure our guests are—comfortable."

They drag us up the marble steps of Marco's sprawling estate, its grandeur unsettling in the storm. The mansion stands ahead, its towering stone facade immaculate, the polished brass fixtures gleaming despite the rain. Tall windows are framed with heavy velvet drapes, concealing what lies beyond. Ornate columns line the grand entrance, and the carved wooden doors swing open with an ominous creak. Inside, the air carries the scent of expensive cologne and aged mahogany. Crystal chandeliers dangle from vaulted ceilings, illuminating Persian rugs and marble floors. Display cases filled with antique weapons line the walls—gleaming daggers, ornate pistols, and swords from forgotten wars—each piece meticulously maintained, a silent warning to anyone who might challenge Marco's authority.

The elegance fades as we're led deeper into the house. The walls grow darker, the air cooler. The marble gives way to cold, bare stone, and all signs of life vanish. At the end of the hall is a narrow staircase, leading down into the basement of themansion. Fear claws at me with every step we take downward. Each step feels heavier, my pulse quickening as panic creeps in. The silence wraps around me, closing in on me, relentless and overwhelming. My grip on Leo's hand tightens, steadying me as panic threatens to rise. I force myself to stay calm, to stay strong for him. I can't let him see how terrified I am. The warmth and wealth of the upper floors feel like a distant memory. This is where the mansion shows its true colors.

I kneel beside Leo, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. My voice is firm but gentle. "Leo, listen to me. We're going to be okay. I need you to stay close to me, alright?"

His wide eyes shimmer with fear. "Mommy, I want to go home."

I swallow the lump in my throat. "I know, baby. I do too. But we have to be brave right now, okay? Remember how you're my little lion?"

Leo sniffs, rubbing his nose with his sleeve. "Lions aren't scared."

I nod, managing a faint smile. "That's right. And we're going to stay strong. Alessandro will come. He's going to find us. I promise."

They shove me forward, and I fall hard onto the cold floor, instinctively shielding Leo with my body. I can't show fear. I have to be his strength.

"Please, he's just a child—" I gasp, but a rough kick to my ribs knocks the breath from my lungs. Pain splinters through my side, and I curl around Leo protectively.

Leo cries out, clinging to my shirt. "Mommy!" I'm winded and can't catch my breath.

One man crouches down, his masked face inches from mine. "Stay down. Or next time, it won't be your ribs."

Another man grips my chin, forcing my face upward. His knuckles crash against my cheekbone, and pain shoots through my face. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.

Leo screams louder, tugging at my sleeve. "Let my mommy go!"

Through the haze of pain, I grab Leo's hand, squeezing it. "It's okay, baby. I'm okay."

The men snicker before stepping back.

"Lock them in. No food. No light," one of them orders.

The heavy door slams shut, leaving us in complete darkness. Leo sobs louder now, his small body shaking.

I cradle him, rocking slightly. "Shh, Leo. I need you to be quiet, okay? We don't want them to come back. You have to stop crying for me."

His sobs quiet to small hiccups. "But it hurts, Mommy. You're bleeding."

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