Page 62 of Mafia King's Ruthless Obsession

Instead, I fall back on instinct.

“You know the protocols,” I say, voice like gravel. “Stick to them.”

Something flickers briefly in her eyes. Hurt. Then it’s gone, buried beneath steel.

“I want you out of here. Safe.”

She straightens, jaw tight. “I can be useful. I can?—”

“You’re carrying my child,” I snap, voice sharper than intended. “You’re staying out of it.”

Her expression shifts. And suddenly, I know I’ve made a mistake.

“Oh, sonowyou decide to acknowledge the pregnancy?” Her words lash like whips. “Now that you want to shove me into a cage?”

My throat tightens, but I say nothing.

I don’t argue when I’ve already decided.

She’s fire and fury and heartbreak, and I can’t afford to let any of that matter right now. This place is about to become a battlefield again. And I won’t risk her. Not even for her pride.

Without another word, I rise to my feet and grip her arm—not to hurt, just to move her. Just toget her out.

“If you won’t go on your own,” I growl, “then I’ll take you there myself.”

She yanks her arm from my grip and shoves me back—actually shoves me. My blood spikes, fury rising like a tide. Her eyes blaze, slitted with rage, and all I see is fire.

“Fuck off, Vasiliy,” she spits, every word like venom. “Fuck you. I don’t need you to worry about the baby.” Her voice drops, dangerous and low. “I don’t plan on staying around long enough for you to see it born.”

That last line slices straight through my chest.

And it pisses me off.

I don’t slam the wall or roar like some unhinged animal, even though the urge pulses hot beneath my skin. I step into her space, grip her shoulder, and pull her against my chest—my hand locking at the nape of her neck, not hard, but firm enough to remind her who I am.

“Watch your mouth,” I growl into her ear, breath steady but laced with ice. “You forget where you are. This place, this world—mine.Not yours. You don’t call shots here. You don’t run. If you start thinking otherwise, maybe I’ll remind you what real punishment feels like.”

She shivers, but not from fear. Her spine stays straight.

“What are you going to do?” she whispers. “Kill me? Chain me up like your brother did to Katarina?”

I grind my teeth.

She wants to bait me. Sheknowshow to bait me. The old me would’ve snapped already. But I’ve spent years mastering restraint, and I won’t break now, not with her this close, not with everything at stake.

I take a breath. Then another.

“You’re tired,” I say flatly. “Not thinking straight. I’ll chalk it up to hormones.”

Her laugh is sharp and incredulous. “Hormones?”

“That’s right,” I say, letting the chill return to my tone. “They’re bouncing around like marbles in your head. You don’t mean half of what you’re saying.”

She stares at me—no, shestudiesme—with an expression that should terrify me more than it does. Not fury. Not rebellion. Something colder. Something wounded.

I move in again.

“Let me make this simple,” I say, towering over her. “You belong to me. You’re not leaving unless I say so. You’re pregnant. That child ismine.I will be that baby’s father. That’s final.”

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