The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.
Dark Mafia Scene
โWho laid a hand on you? Dallion's voice was low, cold, and dangerous. His dark gaze bore into her, daring her to stay silent. When she didnโt respond, the tension snapped like a whip, his voice booming through the room, โWho?โ
The butler, standing rigid against the wall, swallowed hard before stammering out the words, โIt... it was Mr. Rivers, sir.โ The atmosphere turned deadly as Dallion's jaw clenched, fury igniting in his eyes.
โBring him to me.โ
The butlerโs eyes widened in fear. โN-now, sir? Itโs... itโs late.โ
Dallion's hand, once braced against the wall near her head, slowly curled into a fist. His eyes never left her face, his possessiveness was palpable. Without looking at the butler, his voice dropped to a lethal calm, โDo you need a better time? Or shall I break your legs to teach you urgency?โ
The butler didnโt need any more encouragement. He fled the room, returning twenty minutes later with a trembling Mr. Rivers.
โDallion, my friend, whatโs all this about?โ Rivers began, his voice casual as if nothing was amiss. But Dallion wasn'tโt here for pleasantries. His eyes slid to the knife stabbed into the apple on the table, and in one fluid motion, he yanked it free, the blade glinting in the dim light.
Without a word, Dallion grabbed Rivers outstretched hand, slamming it onto the table. The sharp scream that followed echoed in the room as Dallion, with one swift movement, sliced through the manโs fingers. Blood splattered across the polished wood as Rivers screamed in agony, clutching his mutilated hand.
โNo one touches what belongs to me,โ Dallion's voice was eerily calm, his expression devoid of any sympathy.
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