Page 3 of Dark Mafia Bride

The tension snaps like a wire pulled too tight.

“You’ve got five seconds to walk away,” he says to the men, his voice steady, almost bored. “Unless you want to end up dead.”

He says it like he means it. The gravity of his words wraps around me like a shroud, and I exhale shakily as Elia’s handleaves my thigh. He squares up to The Reaper, his earlier bravado flickering back to life.

“We don’t take no orders from you,”

The Reaper’s lips curl into a slow, dangerous smile. “No? Pity.”

Then everything unfolds in a heartbeat. A glint of metal catches the light, a swift slice cuts through the air, and in an instant, Elia clutches his neck, crimson gushing over his fingers.

“Fuck,” One of the men screams, lunging toward The Reaper as the leader collapses to the ground.

I watch in a mix of horror and awe. This man embodies his nickname. He moves with the grace of a predator, lethal and precise. The sound of his knife carving through flesh blends with the relentless patter of rain.

The impact of fists on skin, the sickening crack of bones, the groans and curses—it’s all brutal, efficient, and terrifyingly quick. Within moments, all three of Abruzzi’s men lie sprawled across the wet pavement, lifeless, just as he had promised.

I stand frozen, my heart racing, staring at the lifeless bodies of the men who’d threatened to do unspeakable things to me just minutes ago. My chest heaves, the adrenaline coursing through my veins like wildfire.

The Reaper strides over the bodies as if they’re nothing more than trash. He stops in front of me, his dark eyes gleaming under the streetlight. “You’re welcome.”

I feel a tumult of emotions—fear, relief, guilt—welling up inside me. Swallowing hard, I straighten my back, lifting my chin in defiance. “I didn’t need your help.”

Although his face remains partially obscured, I can make out the sharp angles of his jaw, the dark stubble that gives him an edge, and the subtle tilt of his lips as he smiles, a blend of arrogance and amusement.

“Is that right? Because from where I was standing, you were about five seconds from being raped.”

Rape.

The word strikes me like a physical blow, stealing the breath from my lungs. I swallow hard, my heartbeat thundering in my ears as the reality of what could have happened sinks in.

I try to speak, but my voice fails me. He studies me in silence, inching closer with an air of casual confidence.

“I take it you were heading home from work,” he drawls in a low voice.

I hate the sound of his voice—the way it makes my heart skip a beat. For some stupid reason, my brain stubbornly bypasses the fact that he just killed three men and focuses instead on the striking features of his face.

I glare up at him, trying to suppress the flutter in my stomach as I catch the dark glint in his eyes. “Why do you care? Why are you even here?”

His gaze sweeps over me, assessing every detail of my drenched skin as if he can see right through me. “I was bored.”

A disbelieving chuckle escapes my lips. Of course, he was. Whoever this man is, he’s infinitely more dangerous than Abruzzi.

Before I can muster a retort, he grabs my hand—not roughly, but with enough firmness that I don’t even think about resisting—and pulls me toward his car. “Come on.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

His smirk returns, dangerous and enticing. “You’re shivering. At least let me get you out of this rain before you freeze to death.”

I don’t argue this time, mostly because my body betrays me with a violent shiver. I follow his lead, doing a bad job at ignoring the way his skin feels against mine.

When we reach his car, he opens the passenger door for me to slip inside.

The warmth envelops me immediately, the leather seats plush beneath me. He slides in beside me, his presence filling the small space with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe. The heavy rain drums against the roof, and our breaths mingle in the confined air.

“I’ll take you somewhere to warm up,” he says, starting the engine. His voice is still smooth, but there’s an edge of something darker lurking beneath the surface.

He drives me to a small, intimate restaurant tucked away from the main streets—a hidden gem you only discover if you know where to look. The lights inside are dim, casting a golden glow over dark wood tables and plush leather booths. The air is rich with the aroma of spices and something mouthwatering sizzling in the kitchen.

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