Chapter five

⚠️ Trigger Warning: This chapter contains scenes of violence, murder, and intense confrontation. Reader discretion is advised.

Rafaello’s POV

Pain screamed through the walls; muffled cries and the metallic tang of blood thickened the air. A gunshot cracked, followed by silence the kind that clings to your skin like guilt. I stepped out of the torture room, letting the fear linger as I rolled down my sleeves.

Of course, someone had to die before everyone understood how this mafia works.

Each step on the concrete echoed authority. The room shifted; tension snapped through the air like a live wire. Every eye flicked toward me even the toughest men stiffened under my stare. They feared me, the most ruthless Italian boss since my grandfather, the Godfather himself. Sometimes I wondered if I’d earned that title, or if I was just living off the ghost of a legend.

I didn’t need to announce myself; my aura filled the room, quiet and deadly. I walked in, removing my dark sunglasses. I stared lazily at my gold watch, my grey eyes sweeping across the room like steel blades, slicing through every flicker of fear and defiance. I let my presence fill the space a quiet storm promising consequences without a single word.

I cleared my throat roughly before finally speaking. “Explain. Now. Why was my shipment seized by the authorities?”

The room grew heavier as I waited. “Boss, we… we didn’t know it was going to be seized,” the man in the corner stammered.

“Santino!” My voice rolled like thunder, and my capo my right hand immediately understood.

The next sound was a gunshot. The man who’d spoken dropped to the floor, a lifeless heap of regret. The echo bounced off the walls. No one moved. The smell of gunpowder and fear filled the air. My men didn’t blink; they knew better.

“The next time you talk to the boss, you stand up straight, or the next bullet goes through your heart,” Santino warned coldly. I watched with a cruel smile, pulling out my cigar like nothing had just happened.

The dull smoke from my mouth spread through the room like a fog of menace.

“Basta!” (Enough.)

“I want the shipment brought in within an hour. Fail me, and dig your own graves tonight.” I pointed at each one of them. They knew this wasn’t a warning — it was a death sentence waiting to be signed.

“No room for mistakes. Either it’s done, or you’re done.” I slammed my fist on the table, making the room vibrate. Then I gestured for them to leave — except for Santino. Could my day get any worse?

My gaze shifted to the laptop. I needed to know what that woman was doing. I flipped through the CCTV feeds. There she was — strutting into the kitchen like she owned it. And yes… in nothing but a towel.

“Damn!” I roared, hurling the laptop against the wall. Her hands trembled on-screen, betraying the lies she thought she’d hidden.

“Man, you need to calm down,” Santino muttered, gesturing for me to sit. “I told you she’s trouble, and I’m gonna deal with her.”

“Holy shit!” He cursed, staring at his phone. “What?” I raised an eyebrow. “She worked there. The report was right.”

That was all I needed to hear. “I’m going. You handle the shipment and report when things change,” I ordered, snatching my car keys. “Yes, boss.”

I stormed down to the underground garage, slid into my black sedan, and gunned the engine. My grip on the steering wheel tightened until my knuckles turned white. Then the phone rang — Nico. One of my best men.

“This better be a life-or-death situation, Nico,” I growled. “Boss, the woman tried to escape, and...” “Have her secured. I’ll be there,” I thundered, hanging up.

One wrong glance, one misplaced word, and she’d regret it for the rest of her life.

Something about her face crawled under my skin — made my blood boil for reasons I couldn’t name. She reminded me of someone. Maybe that’s why I wanted to break her first.

After twenty minutes, I arrived. The heavy metal gates opened as I drove in hard. I stepped out and kicked the mansion door open.

I strode through the halls, ignoring the servants’ greetings, heading straight for the living room.

“Son, you’re back,” my mother said. “Not now, Mother. I don’t have the energy to exchange words,” I muttered, brushing past her.

Her voice stayed calm. Like she’d seen this version of me before. That only made me angrier.

I shoved open the guest-room door and found her sitting in a chair, looking exhausted. “You…” she started, but the word died as my temper flared.

I slammed my hand on the wall beside her head, the crack echoing through the room. She flinched.

“Did you really think you could ruin everything I built and walk away?” I hissed, yanking her up by the arm. The fear in her eyes filled the air thicker than smoke.

“Did Vescari send you? Are you one of his spies? How much did he pay you?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she cried.

Her voice trembled, but I didn’t buy it. “Wrong answer.”

I shoved her toward the bedpost, my patience gone. “You thought I wouldn’t find out? You were sent to bend me — to make me kneel. Wrong move.”

“Please, I’m sorry!” she pleaded. I grabbed her collar and forced her to look at me. “You might have fooled my mother, but not me. Walking around like you own this place… like you belong here. That ends tonight.”

She tried to speak, but I raised a finger to her lips not tenderly, but like a command. “You talk when I ask. Got it?”

Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Please… I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“Then talk, damn it!” I snapped. “I didn’t… I didn’t!”

“One word — the wrong word — and you’ll regret it in ways you can’t imagine.” My voice dropped, low and lethal. The air froze between us. I stepped back, straightened my cuffs, and turned toward the door.

“Lock her in. No food, no calls,” I ordered the

guards outside. “Let’s see how long it takes before she tells me the truth.”