7: Predatory Savior

Marco’s POV 

From Afar, I watched Elara fumble in search of her keys. Frustrated, she slammed her forehead with her palm. 

I scoffed, finding humor in her clumsiness. As if she heard me, she spun in my direction. Effortlessly, I slid to a side, blending my black attire with the darkness that loomed. 

Bored, I played with the handle of the dagger in my gloved hand. When I followed her down here, I had hoped to slit the throat and spread the guts of her lover like peanut butter. Instead of going to him, or the client she was dressed to service, she came home. Perhaps she was terrified for one night. 

My jaws clenched. They wouldn't be this lucky next time. Matter of fact, every fucking dickhead that had touched her would pay for their sins. 

The creaking sound of her door drew my attention. She walked in and shut it, still ignorant of my presence. 

For about fifteen minutes, I remained on my spot, waiting... watching.

The clock ticked 10 PM. Sure that she was safe and no motherfucker would visit as it was a few seconds past the curfew, I pulled away from the wall and strolled down to the spot I had parked my car. 

Her thoughts, the scent of her innocence that still lingered even after three years, filled my mind as I drove down the quiet city. 

Contrary to the profile she kept, her father was wealthy enough to get her a mansion, but here she was, living in a small apartment barely the size of my bedroom. Just maybe they never approved of her lifestyle… Or she was here as a mole. 

One thing was certain, I'd unravel her, layers by fucking layers. 

Slamming on the accelerator, my fingers drummed on the wheel as I zoomed home. 

The heavy black automatic gate parted and I drove through, rolling down the thick layers of granites on the driveway. The engine jerked to a halt in front of the white mansion. I tossed the key to one of the valets waiting by the side of the car. 

My hands dipped in my pockets and I climbed up the steps, hearing the engine of my car rear to life behind me. 

“Welcome, Don.” Francesca, the head maid beamed. She wiped her hand with a napkin and tucked it in her apron. 

Stern-faced, I walked past her. Her noisy footsteps followed behind. 

“What would you like for dinner, master?” She kept on ranting. “Lady Lucia and Miss Sofia already ate…”

Of course! 

Ignoring her rant, I continued the long walk up the stairs. 

“I made your favorite, pasta and…”

I slowly turned towards her, my tensed muscles expanded the fabric of my tight turtle neck sleeves. “Do me a favor and shut up.” 

She pressed her lips firm and nodded. When I took another step, she didn't follow this time. 

My hand toyed with Elara’s phone in my pocket. I pulled it out and stretched it towards her. She reached for it but I didn't immediately let go. Instead, I closed the distance between us, enough that the soldati had no clue of my next words. 

“If anyone calls, report to me immediately.” My eyes bore into her brown ones and she nodded. “Never give more than a two-word response.” 

Her throat swelled as she swallowed dryly. 

“Delicate, warm, sultry,” I hissed, giving quality to Elara’s voice. 

“Yes, Master.” Her croaked tone trailed off when she attempted to impersonate her. 

“Forget it.” I snapped. “Just keep shut.” 

Sofia’s tall figure graciously appeared, dressed in her satin night dress that stopped mid-thigh, with a robe loosely hanging on her fragile shoulders. Beauty and power were one thing the devil couldn't deny my lineage.  

Keeping my mission a secret, I left the phone in Francesca’s care. Smart than her looks, she smoothly disappeared into the kitchen. The sweet scent of freshly baked bread and pasta oozed out when she slammed the door. 

“Mio Cucciolo,” she hugged me tightly and pecked my cheeks before pulling away. “What took you so long? You got mama and I worried.” 

She hooked her arm to mine and followed me down the hallway that led to Madre’s room. 

“Figlio?” Madre's tender voice demanded, already used to my knocking. 

I walked into her room, as neat as always. She was already tucked into bed, with her lazy eyes roaming down my frame. After the death of Padre, she declined so much, shrunk into her shell like a shadow, one that dearly hung to my presence. 

“Good to see you, figlio moi.” Her smooth palms cupped my cheeks as she caressed me. 

“Heard you were worried.” I teased her and she chuckled. “You had dinner without me, not so worried after all.” 

She laughed and looked at Sofia who was leaning by the doorframe, then back at me. “You’re their Don and even though I try to let you be that, you're my son.” She began her lectures. “Your Padre’s killer is still roaming the streets free…”

Her words made my heart squeeze tight in my chest. More than it should remind me to be careful, it screamed how much I've failed the family and the cartel. 

“I don't want to lose another.” She sniffled. 

I faked a smile, hoping it would melt her heart and put her at ease. Pressing a light kiss on her forehead, I held her hands and caressed her smooth skin. “You won't, mama.” 

She let me tuck her back in bed and bid her good night before leaving for my room. Sofia, clingy as always, perched on my side. Tired for the day, I had a cold shower, letting the icy feeling sting my skin. 

The walls have ears. The whispering of my capos was loud enough to voice my failure. I bet they think I was the weakest link in my lineage, too weak to even give Moi Padre justice. 

Letting the pain consume me, I entered the room to see Sofia on my bed, beckoning me to join her. Since childhood, she knew when I was broken and how to ease my burden. 

I got into the pants of my pajamas and slipped right next to her, still lost in my head. 

“Don't be so hard on yourself, Marco,” she patted my bare arm. “Papa will get justice.”

“It's been three years…”

“I know,” she stilled my protest. “I also know that the day of reckoning will be worth the lost days.” She lay her head against mine and hummed, casting her sleep spell. 

* * * *

“Don,” Kaid’s voice woke me up. “I'm afraid, there's a slight problem.” 

I hissed and rolled to the edge, careful not to wake Sofia. It's been a while since I had such a good rest. 

I pulled a robe over my bare chest and met him standing beside the door. “It better be worth it, Kaid.” 

He marched my energy, doubling his pace so he was walking side by side with me. 

“Don Lorenzo is here.” 

Taken aback by his report, I swiftly replaced my shock with nonchalance and resumed walking. He only showed up when there was chaos, brewing war. 

Lorenzo was my cousin. It's known that the throne belonged to his father, but being incompetent, mine perfectly filled the shoes and became the true Don. To balance power, his father was the second in command, and Lorenzo took over after his death.

“Where is he?” 

“In the meeting chambers.” Kaid resumed his duty. “We got a report last night of missing funds.” 

“What are we looking at?” 

“Three hundred and fifty thousand dollars.” He scrunched his nose. 

I scoffed. Whoever was responsible must have been doing it for a while, hoping a spill from our fountain would go unnoticed. That was the confidence of traitors who worked for money laundering Kingpins. 

A soldato bowed in greeting and opened the door of the chambers. Lorenzo’s presence filled the large cool hall, strong enough to create tension. Beside him was his assistant, Matteo. 

“Leave us,” I ordered Matteo while Kaid waited outside.

Alone, I flapped my robe and leveled in my King-sized armchair plated with gold lining. 

“Care for?” He pushed the thick bottle of Louis liquor and an empty glass towards me. “Last night, I read through the ledgers, dating back as far as three months ago.” 

He paused, letting me guess what it was. The discrepancies had to be much to bring him here, or else he would have handled it himself. 

“Any trail of the perpetrator?” 

“None yet.” He sipped from his glass. “They're smart, I must say.” 

“Foolish, you mean?” I interrupted him. “Only a fool would make a death wish.” My tone was cold as ice. 

“The records from the ammunition and coke sales are intact.” He chipped in. “But the percentage that returns after the last three art exhibition is tampered.” 

It meant one thing, someone in politics was playing a deadly game with us. 

“I'll have Kaid look…” I stopped when the door opened and Francesca walked in. She kept a straight face. 

She bowed to him and stopped at the step of my podium. When I signalled for her to come, she climbed the steps and leaned closer to whisper something in my ears. 

A wave of anger and shock washed through me. 

Elara has a child?!

Almost pushing her aside, I rose and climbed down from my throne. “We'll clean this up later, Lorenzo,” my tone was dismissive. “I have a mess to clean up.”