Chapter 8 - The Underboss’s Fatal Mistake: Never Touch the Boss’s Woman
Two gunshots echoed through the stormy night.
Damien’s gun slipped from his fingers.
He looked down in shock at his chest.
Two red stains were rapidly expanding across his white shirt.
Alessandro stood perfectly still, his gun smoking in his hand.
He hadn't flinched.
Vincent and the guards lowered their weapons, watching as the underboss fell to his knees on the wet gravel.
"You..." Damien choked out, coughing up blood. "They will... come for you."
"Let them come," Alessandro said coldly. "I will bury the Morettis just like I am burying you."
Damien collapsed, dead before his face hit the ground.
Alessandro stared at the body for a long moment.
Fifteen years of history, wiped out in an instant.
It was the harsh reality of the world they lived in.
Loyalty was a fragile thing, easily broken by greed.
"Clean this up," Alessandro ordered without looking away.
"Vincent, you are promoted to underboss. Lock down the city. I want every Moretti operation hit tonight. No mercy."
"Yes, Boss," Vincent said respectfully.
He looked at Alessandro with a new level of awe.
The Boss hadn't gone soft.
He had just found something worth killing for.
Alessandro holstered his weapon and turned his back on the carnage.
He walked swiftly back toward the massive estate.
The rain started pouring again, washing the blood from the driveway.
He bypassed his office.
He bypassed the meeting rooms.
He went straight back down to the medical wing.
When he opened the door, Clara was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding Sophie tightly.
She looked up, her eyes terrified as she saw the dark stains on Alessandro’s clothes.
"It’s over," Alessandro said softly.
He closed the door, sealing the violence out.
"He is dead. The man who hurt you will never breathe again."
Clara let out a choked sob, burying her face in Sophie’s hair.
The adrenaline that had kept her going finally crashed, leaving her shaking uncontrollably.
Alessandro walked over and knelt in front of her.
He didn't care about his ruined clothes or the blood on his hands.
He gently wrapped his large arms around both of them, pulling them into his chest.
"You're safe," he murmured into Clara’s hair. "I’ve got you."
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For the first time in her life, Clara didn't pull away from a man’s touch.
She leaned into him, letting her tears soak his shirt, finding a strange, impenetrable safety in the arms of the mafia boss.
