Page 63 of Mafia King's Ruthless Obsession

Cruel?

Absolutely.

But that’s what she wanted, wasn’t it?

The claim. The line drawn. The truth no one else would say aloud.

I give it to her, and she’ll have to live with it now.

I don’t wait for her answer. I wrap an arm around her, guiding her toward the passage behind the bookshelf—firm, not rough. My grip might be unrelenting, but I’mawareof what she’s carrying. I may be a bastard, but I won’t hurt what’sours.

She writhes in my hold, hissing curses under her breath.

“You’re a despicable man,” she growls, trying to twist free. She’s strong, but I’m using a fraction of my strength. She won’t win this fight.

The narrow corridor to the tunnels stretches before us. We’re almost to the exit, straight to the backup car parked out back. I’d rather stay at the club, make sure the cops don’t snoop too deeply, but I don’t trust her not to get caught in the crossfire. She’s too stubborn. Too reckless. Toomine.

As we walk, she starts to lag behind, dragging her heels. I glance over.

She’s glaring. Breathing hard.

“Don’t test me,” I warn, voice low.

“Fuck you, Vasiliy,” she snaps. Her chin lifts, full of defiance.

I stop and turn toward her.

“I swear,” I grit out, my restraint on a knife’s edge, “if you talk to me like that again, I will lock you up. And Iwill not lose sleep over it.”

She doesn’t flinch.

Instead, her voice softens. Like a blade dipped in honey.

“Let’s be honest for once,” she says, something unreadable in her gaze. “You’re not father material. You never were.”

And somehow…that hurts more than anything else.

My grip tightens around her arm.

Not father material.

The words slice deeper than any knife ever has. I’ve been called a monster, a killer, a soulless bastard, but that? That’s not something I’ll accept. I’ve seen what failure looks like. I’ve watched fathers beat their sons, abandon their daughters, sell out their own blood for power. I’ve buried men who deserved worse. And maybe I’m a murderer. Maybe I deal in vice and rot. But if there’s one thing Iwillbe, it’s a protector. Even in hell, my children will be safe.

“You don’t know me,” I grit, punching the code into the tunnel door. The lock clicks. “Iwillbe a good father to our kid.”

She steps into the threshold, but turns to face me, fire still in her eyes. “Do you really want our baby raised in this world? In this filth?” Her voice softens, but it cuts deeper. “Don’t you think we candobetter?”

“We’ll talk about this when you’re safe.” I push the door open, ushering her inside with more gentleness than I intend. “Go.”

A voice stops us cold.

“Not so fast.”

Instinct takes over; I yank Galina behind me, gun already half drawn.

“Matvei.” I don’t need to see him to recognize that voice—low, guttural, half-choked by the injury I gave him. “Like a fucking cockroach. Can’t kill you no matter how hard I try.”

He stands in the narrow corridor, fingers twitching near the scar on his neck. I remember that wound. I gave it to him. A knife buried to the hilt, and still, here he is.

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