Page 143 of Dirty Mafia King
I whimper.
“But now’s not the time.” He tugs on the plug as his dismissal hits home. “Relax and breathe,” he warns. “Now, count to three.”
“One, two … ah!” And then it’s gone.
And so is he, in every way that matters.
“Don’t push me away,” I beg. “You’re upset, and I want to—”
“Upset?” I’m spun around, and he drags my hand to his chest. “Feel that? That’s not love or kindness. That’s the Beneventi rage pumping through my veins.” His nostrils flare, like the raging bull he’s nicknamed for. “Upset, you say?” he hisses. “I’m going to murder every motherfucker involved in his kidnapping. If they know what’s wise, they’ll release him without harm.”
“Bastian …”
“You want to help me? Then go.”
No, please.
“Alessia. Fucking go, or I will hurt you. And not in a way you’ll enjoy.”
He tugs us away from the door, then jerks it open.
I want to tell him he’s wrong. There’s more burning inside him than anger. The fact he’s insisting I go reflects his kindness and concern.
But my bull’s been wounded.
And everything reads red.
So I do as he demands, and flee, with the intention of waiting him out.
CHAPTER51
BASTIAN
Sandro was found late last night half-conscious in a Brooklyn alleyway. Trusting no one, I flew him home and admitted him to the Providence hospital.
I flex my fists. Who dares mess with a Beneventi after what happened to Benny? Yet that bastardo’s warning replays in my mind.
I should have done more. Ordered everyone into full lockdown until the threat was proven bogus.
And now, my son is hurt.
I hit the wall. Two nurses hurry in the opposite direction, leaving the hallway empty.
I type a quick text demanding a guard be positioned outside Sandro’s room.
Entering, I approach the doctor by his bedside. “How is he?” On the outside, Sandro looks like hell. But it’s what’s happening inside that worries me.
The doctor fumbles with his clipboard. “No internal bleeding. Two broken ribs and a broken nose, bruised ribs, blackened eyes, and swollen muscles along his left side. No signs of concussion or head swelling.”
Thank fuck.
“I’d like to keep him here this week for further observation.”
“Fine.”
The doctor gestures to Sandro. “He ripped his tubes out while trying to leave, so we strapped him to the bed.”
“Free him. He’ll do as I say.”
