Mine

Romario’s POV

I sat in the leather chair, its soft embrace a stark contrast to the harshness of the man before me. A dead body lay on the ground, blood slowly seeping into the cracks of the floor.

"You've failed me," I said, my voice low and deadly. "And now you will pay for your mistake.”

"Please, Mr. Romario. Please, have mercy," the man stammered, his eyes wide with fear. But I felt no mercy for those who crossed me. It was a rule I had instilled in my men from the moment I took the reins of the family.

I rose to my feet, my tailored suit a silent reminder of the power that coursed through my veins. "Mercy is for the weak, Luca. And you are weak. Weakness will not be tolerated in this family."

With a flick of my wrist, Luca's fate was sealed.

"Ken!" I barked at my second-in-command, my voice laced with disgust as I gazed at the worthless blood spreading across my tiles. "Clean up this mess, now!"

Just then, my servant rushed in, phone in hand. "Boss, a call for you."

I snatched the phone, my eyes never leaving the crimson stain. "Hey, Namiro. What's up?"

"Rom, what's going on?" my friend asked, her voice laced with concern. "You sound like you're in the midst of a war zone."

"Nothing, just dealing with a traitor in our midst," I replied, my tone cold and detached. "A mole in the Ndrangheta's manor. Can you believe it?"

Namiro's disbelief was palpable. "A fucking mole? Who would be foolish enough to try that? You know your family doesn't tolerate betrayal, Rom. It's a death sentence, no questions asked."

I chuckled, a low, menacing sound. "Well, we've had some issues with the slave trade in the black market. The police are sniffing around, and someone must have thought they could profit from selling us out."

Namiro's voice turned sweet and persuasive. "Rom, please, for my sake, come to family dinner. I know you'll say no, but just this once, please?"

I laughed, a cold, mirthless sound. "Namiro, you know me too well. But I'll consider it, for your sake."

The conversation ended, and I turned my attention back to the bloodstain, my mind already turning to the task of identifying the traitor and meting out the necessary punishment.

I am Romario Ndrangheta, the ruthless successor to the Ndrangheta family's criminal empire. Our family's 'business' dominates South Chicago, with my father boasting about the tons of drugs he pedals.

I've been groomed for this life since childhood, entrenched in a world of illegal activities - from assassination and slave trade to organ harvesting, drug trafficking, and weapons dealing. We've corrupted even the police force, but recently, they've become a nuisance, sniffing around my operations. I won't hesitate to eliminate them, even if it means adding homicide to my resume.

"Emily!" I bellowed in fury, my voice echoing through the halls. She sprinted towards me, her legs trembling with fear. I have a short fuse, and my anger ignites quickly, a trait I've learned to control - but only when it suits me.

"Yes, Master," she whispered, her voice trembling. I grunted, "Get me a glass of tequila." She hastily left, and I took out my phone to call my father, Terrone. If anyone could get the officers off my back, it was him.

As I waited for him to answer, I gazed at Allison, my slave,who returned with the tequila. She looked down, her lips bitten in nervousness, a habit I'd noticed before. I chuckled, amused by her fear. She stammered, "M-Master...I-Emily said you requested a glass of tequila?"

I hummed, enjoying her broken demeanor. "Look at me," I told her, but she kept her eyes fixed on the floor. Irritated, I growled, "Look at me!" The sudden rise in my voice made her jump, and she dropped the tequila, the glass shattering everywhere.

As she tried to gather the broken pieces, I glared at her, her eyes still fixed on the floor. I could see the fear in her eyes, and it only added to my amusement.

I glared at her, my anger simmering as she continued to gaze at the floor, her hands trembling as she tried to gather the shattered glass. I strode towards her, my movements swift and menacing, and grasped her chin, forcing her head up. Her eyes, a striking blend of blue and green, met mine, brimming with unshed tears.

"Master...I'm sorry," she stammered, her voice choked with emotion. I noticed the black eye, a stark reminder of the violence she'd endured, and my rage intensified.

"Names!" I bellowed, my voice echoing through the room. She blinked, confusion etched on her face as tears continued to fall. "Who hit you?" I screamed, my fury unrelenting.

"It was a mistake," she whispered, her hands futilely attempting to stem the flow of tears. My glare was deadly, my possessiveness palpable. She was mine, my slave, and I was the only one entitled to see her vulnerable, broken, and bleeding. Her tears, smiles, and body belonged to me, and no one else dared to claim them.

"It was Guard Marco, Master," she whispered, fresh tears streaming down her face. "He got angry because I didn't serve breakfast early, and he punched me in rage because I'm just a slave." My anger flared at the thought of someone daring to touch my property.

I dragged her outside, my grip firm. "Show me that guard, or you'll bear the consequences," I growled, leaving no room for argument. She reluctantly led me through the halls, passing nervous guards who knew better than to cross me when I was angry.

As we stopped in front of a lanky, ugly guard, I could feel my rage boiling over. "Hey slut, back for more?" he sneered, his friends cheering him on. Allison cowered, looking terrified, and I felt a surge of possessiveness. I was the only one who had the right to make her fear.

His mocking laughter infuriated me, and I felt my anger boil over at his blatant disrespect. As the leader, I wouldn't tolerate such insolence. My hand instinctively went to my gun, and I clicked my tongue in a menacing gesture.

"Say hello to Satan for me," I sneered, my voice cold and deadly. He turned, confusion etched on his face, but it was too late. I smirked as I pulled the trigger, and the bullet struck him right between the eyes. He crumpled to the floor, his body twitching as his life slipped away, his blood pooling around him like a macabre halo.

"Nobody touches what's mine," I growled, my voice echoing through the room, a stark warning to anyone who dared challenge my authority