"Boss, are you sure you want to do this?" Tiger asked, his voice tinged with concern as he stepped closer to Damon.Damon didn’t flinch, his gaze cold and unyielding."First, you killed your Capos, then the Manzoni Don. Killing him would spark a war with the Scorpion Clan," Tiger continued, his words deliberate, hoping to get through to Damon.Damon's eyes narrowed, his expression hard as stone. "Are you trying to say I'm going crazy?" he asked, his voice low but laced with an edge that warned Tiger to choose his words wisely."No, boss," Tiger said quickly, shaking his head. "I'm just worried this girl might be bad business." He hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "She has only brought us trouble.""You do know that girl is my wife now, don't you?" Damon said, his voice cold, "She's part of the family, and I'll protect her with everything I've got."Tiger bowed his head immediately, sensing the finality in Damon's tone. "Yes, boss. Forgive me."Damon’s jaw tightened
Anna's POV"Bonnie, thank you so much for this. I can't imagine how I would've coped without you," I said as we made our way to my mother's ward.The elevator seemed to drag as it climbed to the 25th floor, the tension in my chest tightening with every passing second."You're welcome, Anna," Bonnie replied, her tone warm but laced with seriousness. She took a sip of her coffee and added, "But if I may suggest, I think it's time you started making some power moves."I turned to her, frowning slightly. "Power moves?" My voice came out quieter than I intended, but before she could respond, the elevator dinged, announcing our arrival.The doors slid open, and we stepped into the bustling corridor filled with doctors, nurses, and visitors hurrying past us.I hesitated for a moment, then blurted out the question that had been gnawing at me. "Do you think I should tell my mom about my contract marriage?"Nervousness swirled inside me, tightening my throat as I wait
"You need to let me leave. I have to talk to my sister," Kate said, her tone sharp as she lit a cigarette."You need to take a chill pill, princess. I just saved your life—the least you can do is show a little gratitude," Ghost replied, taking a slow drag from her cigarette.She extended it toward Kate. "Here. Take this. It'll calm your nerves."Kate flinched, her expression twisting in disgust. "I'm good," she said, brushing it off and dropping onto the edge of the bed. Her eyes wandered around the small hotel room, searching for any sign of comfort.Ghost smirked, leaning back against the wall. "Don't worry—Damon will be here soon.""Who's Damon?" Kate asked, her brows furrowed.Ghost was about to respond when a knock echoed through the room. She paused, flashing Kate a sly smile before pushing off the wall and striding to the door."You'll find out," Ghost said, opening it.Damon stepped inside, his sharp gaze sweeping the room before locking onto Kate. He studied her in silence fo
Anna's POVI was still reeling from what Bonnie had told me at the hospital. To be honest, I couldn’t figure out how I’d made it this far without Damon forcing himself on me.On any normal day, he’s exactly the kind of man women dream about—tall, dangerous, and devastatingly handsome—but nothing about this situation was normal. I sipped my coffee, letting the thought simmer.Somehow, I was getting used to this Mafia world, and I hated it. Bonnie’s words kept echoing in my head—"Make a power move."Should I wait for Damon to make the first move? Or should I take control, like Bonnie suggested?The thought made my stomach churn. I couldn’t deny it anymore—I was starting to like him. Ever since he defended me at the club, there was a part of me that felt... safe around him. That feeling scared me.I was about to take another sip when the faint scent of cologne filled the air. My heart skipped. I knew that scent—clean, crisp, and overpowering. Only one person sm
Moonlight flooded through the wall-to-wall windows, bathing the luxurious hospital suite in a warm glow. On the bed, Mario Manzoni, the Manzoni Don, stirred awake. The sharp beep of the heart monitor quickened slightly as his eyes fluttered open, his gaze locking onto the male doctor standing nearby."You’re a lucky man, Mr. Manzoni," the doctor said, his voice calm and professional. "The bullet missed any vital organs by mere millimeters. Any closer, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation."Mario’s hand moved slowly to touch the bandages on his chest, his face tightening with a mixture of pain and fury. "Lucky?" His voice was barely above a whisper. "I don’t feel lucky."The doctor gave a faint, polite smile. "You should. Not many survive a shot like that. But with time and rest, you'll recover fully." He adjusted the IV drip and stepped back. "I’ll leave you to your men. Call if you need anything."As if on cue, the door opened, and three of Mario's most trusted men walked in
The full moon illuminated the night, casting an eerie glow over the hospital's surroundings. Mario's men patrolled the perimeter, their eyes darting at every shadow, fully expecting an assault from Damon. Yet, the true threat lurking in the darkness was far beyond their imagination.Inside, the tension was palpable. Three men stormed into the elevator, ascending swiftly to the top floor where Mario’s ward was located. Their faces were pale, their breaths ragged, and their hands fidgeting with their weapons.When they reached Mario's room, they pushed the door open with urgency."Boss," one of the men blurted, his voice trembling, "it appears we’ve been compromised. You need to evacuate immediately."Mario, calm yet intrigued, shifted his gaze toward them. "Compromised? How?"The man hesitated, his fear evident. "We’ve found 50 dead bodies scattered around the perimeter—all of them our men. Whoever did this… they’re a ghost."Mario’s eyes widened briefly in shock, his composed demeano
The field stretched wide, the distant sound of flying birds occasionally breaking the peace. Anna stood with a gun in her hand, the weight of it unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Bonnie, standing a few feet away, observed her with a smile.“Hold it steady,” Bonnie instructed, adjusting Anna’s grip on the firearm. “And remember, aim down the sights, not at the entire target.”Anna squinted at the paper target ahead, trying her best to focus. She squeezed the trigger, and the shot rang out.It missed the target entirely.“Ugh,” Anna groaned, lowering the gun in frustration. “This is pointless. I’m never going to get the hang of this.”“You’re doing fine,” Bonnie reassured her, chuckling. “It’s your first day. You can’t expect to be a sharpshooter immediately.”Anna handed the gun back to Bonnie. “Maybe I’ll never need to be a sharpshooter. But if I do get good at this, the first person I’m shooting is Damon.”Bonnie burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the field. “If that’s the
Anna followed Bonnie into the grandiose building, her eyes scanning the polished marble floors, high ceilings, and the faint hum of business activity. The place resembled a bank but had an air of exclusivity that made her feel out of place.As they stepped inside, uniformed officers immediately greeted them with warm smiles and respectful bows. "Welcome, ma'am," one of them said, opening the door wider.Anna looked around, still utterly confused. "Bonnie, what are we doing here?" she whispered as they were escorted deeper into the building.Bonnie didn’t respond, only offering a mysterious smile that only served to irritate Anna further.Soon, they were led to a private office, its decor a blend of luxury and professionalism. A man in a sharp suit, clearly the General Manager, rose from behind a mahogany desk as they entered. His face lit up when he saw Bonnie."Ah, Miss Bonnie," he greeted, extending his hand. "I’ve been expecting you."Bonnie shook his hand, her usual confident deme
Anna's POV But his face was stone-serious, his eyes digging into mine, waiting for an answer I didn’t have.“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I managed, my voice a shaky whisper. My heart hammered, each thud ringing in my ears. What did he mean I smelled like an alpha? And a pack? The questions piled up, suffocating me with no answers in sight.He tilted his head, his brow creasing like my confusion threw him off. “You don’t know?” he asked, his tone softening, almost curious. “But you carry the scent. It’s unmistakable.”I backed up, my shoulders hitting the elevator wall. The cold metal steadied me, but my thoughts were chaos. That voice earlier, my eyes flashing red in the mirror, the sudden craving for meat despite years as a vegetarian—it was all unraveling, and this man’s words were tugging at threads I didn’t want to pull.“I’m not… I’m not part of any pack,” I said, my voice trembling. “I don’t even know what that means.”He stared at me,
Anna's POVI woke up to the softest sheets I’d ever felt in a very long time, the kind that makes you feel like you're floating in a cold swimming pool under a hot sun.But as my eyes fluttered open, confusion crashing over me with the speed of light. The last thing I remembered was the hospital—the sterile smell, the cold bed, the seizure that had ripped through me, leaving pain blooming in my stomach. Now, I was here, in a place so exquisite it didn’t make sense.The room was breathtaking. A massive bed decked in silky blue linens stretched beneath me, and the walls glowed a soft cream under the warm light of a crystal chandelier. A plush armchair sat in one corner, a sleek glass desk in another, and floor-to-ceiling windows framed a sprawling city skyline I couldn’t place. It was a hotel, maybe, but one so luxurious it felt unreal. How had I gone from a hospital bed to this?I sat up slowly, my breath catching as I pressed a hand to my stomach. I’d expec
Seven old women sat in a circle on the damp forest ground, their frail bodies bent like crooked branches. These were the elder witches, and they looked as worn as the earth beneath them. Their black gowns hung loose, the fabric torn at the hems and patched with mud. Wrinkles carved deep lines into their faces, and their gray hair stuck out in wild, matted clumps. Some had gaps where teeth once were; others had cloudy eyes that barely saw. Yet, their hands, though shaky, gripped small, rusty knives with purpose. Damon’s mother was one of them, her thin fingers clutching her blade tightly, her face pale under a tangle of silver hair.The meeting kicked off with a strange ceremony. The witches pushed themselves up, their old bones cracking like dry twigs, and raised their knives high. In their tattered gowns, they started chanting words no one else understood—harsh, foreign sounds that rolled off their tongues. Damon sat off to the side, legs crossed, watching them. Too much drama
Under a full moon, the forest stretched cold and silent, save for the distant howls of wolves and faint, eerie laughter that drifted through the trees. Damon pressed forward along a narrow path, Anna’s limp body slung across his shoulders. His red Lycan eyes glowed fierce in the dark, cutting through the shadows like a blade. Tall trees towered above, their thick branches choking out the moonlight, leaving only slivers to speckle the ground.Wild animals lurked nearby, drawn by the scent of Anna’s death. A wolf pack edged closer, their eyes glinting with hunger, until Damon let out a deep, rumbling growl. They bolted, tails low, and even the bolder creatures—bears, foxes—slunk back into the undergrowth. But as he reached a small clearing, Damon slowed. Ahead stood a threat no growl would scatter.Three werewolves blocked his way, their blue eyes glowing bright and unyielding. Guardians of the territory, they bristled with tension, claws flexing. Damon didn’t hesitate. He strode to
Tiger sat alone in the hospital’s technical office, his eyes fixed on the flickering CCTV footage displayed on the monitor before him. The small room felt cramped, packed with humming computers and cables that spilled across the desk. He’d been at it for hours, watching an endless stream of doctors and nurses passing through the hospital’s hallways on the big screen. A yawn escaped his lips as boredom settled in. Most of the faces were unfamiliar but expected—medical staff going about their routines. The only exception was Damon, who had stormed through earlier. Other than that, nothing seemed out of place.Still, Tiger wasn’t convinced. Anna’s death gnawed at him, and he needed answers. Pushing back from the desk, he stood and crossed the room to the door. He opened it and leaned out into the hallway. “Doctor,” he called.Moments later, the doctor who had first brought him into the technical office appeared, his white coat slightly wrinkled. “Yes?” he asked, stepping closer.Ti
The helicopter descended into a small clearing nestled deep within the Mexican tropical forest, its rotor blades chopping through the thick, humid air. The sound was a relentless whump-whump, sending gusts of wind that bowed the towering pines and scattered dry leaves in swirling patterns across the ground. A semicircle of mercenaries stood waiting. Six men, hardened by years of conflict, gripped their rifles with steady hands, barrels pointed slightly downward but ready to snap up at a moment’s notice. Dust kicked up by the chopper’s landing swirled around their boots as it settled with a soft jolt, the skids sinking slightly into the earth. No one seemed to come out from the helicopter. The mercenaries shifted uneasily, exchanging quick, wordless glances. Their leader, a burly man known simply as the boss, stepped forward. His scarred forehead twitched faintly as he squinted at the chopper’s dark windows. His heavy boots crunched against the dry ground, each step deliberate, h
The uninhabited forest of La Mosquitia in Mexico stretched out beneath a hot midday sun. The air hung thick with humidity, carrying the faint swamp of insects and the occasional cry of birds. High above the dense forest, a mercenary lay flat on his belly on top of a rugged mountain, his body pressed against the warm, hard rock. His eyes were locked on a pair of binoculars, scanning the horizon. He was the lookout, tasked with a single, pivotal role in the ambush about to unfold below.His face, toughened by years of mercenary living, reflected no emotion as he adjusted the binoculars. A deep voice had spoken through the walkie-talkie earlier, barking orders that still played in his mind: “Watch out for any sign of a Gulfstream G-159, a chopper. Target is Damon. Alert the others when you sight him. Do you copy?” “Yes, boss, I copy,” he’d replied, “No sign of any chopper yet. I’ll keep watching.” That had been over an hour ago. Now, as sweat formed on his forehead like morning de
A man in his early fifties stood at the imposing iron gates of Damon's mansion. His coat was slightly rumpled, and his hands fidgeted with the strap of a leather bag slung over his shoulder. Two security guards approached, their broad frames and stern expressions signaling that no one entered unvetted."Hands up," one of them ordered gruffly, his voice cutting through the stillness. The other guard stepped forward, patting down the visitor with practiced efficiency, searching for any trace of a weapon. Finding none, he nodded to his partner."He's clean," the second guard muttered.The first guard fixed the man with a hard stare. "Who are you?""I'm Doctor Francis," the man replied, his voice steady but laced with a hint of nerves. "I'm here to see Mr. Damon."The head of security, a towering figure with a scar running across his jaw, stepped closer. "Damon’s not around," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "But his sister might want to hear you out." He tur
Damon stood alone in the big compound of his mansion, the night air cool against his bare torso, dressed only in trousers, his shirt abandoned somewhere in the heat of his torment.Before him stood a magnificent golden lion statue, its jaws parted to release springs of water that splashed into a marble basin below. The constant flow shimmered under the moonlight, a wide contrast to the emptiness that gripped his heart.His eyes, filled with tears that refused to fall, were fixed on the statue, though his thoughts were elsewhere—lost in memories of Anna, in the promises he’d made, in the hollow ache of her death The sound of footsteps broke through his internal agonies, soft but steady, approaching from behind. He turned his head just enough to see Ghost, his sister, stepping into the faint glow cast by the mansion’s lanterns.“I’m sorry about Anna,” Ghost said, her voice thick with sympathy.Damon didn’t respond. His jaw tightened, and he turned his gaze back to the lion, unwilling