Page 37 of The Mafia King's Reign
The man breaks. Sobs wrack his body as words pour out of him. “Dmitri Volkov! He approached me six months ago, said he knew about Leah’s condition, said he’d pay for everything if I gave him information. Small stuff at first, schedules, routes. Then he wanted more. The shipment was supposed to be my last job. He promised after that, I could walk away.”
“And you believed him.” Salvatore stands, shaking his head. “Dmitri Volkov doesn’t let anyone walk away. You would have been feeding him information for the rest of your life, or until you outlived your usefulness. Then he would have killed you. And probably your family, to tie up loose ends.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“I know.”
Salvatore says it like he means it. Almost gentle. The same quiet gentleness he used when he kissed my forehead earlier.
“But sorry doesn’t fix this.” His voice hardens again. “Who was the other man with you?”
The man stays silent.
Salvatore doesn’t repeat himself. He drives the knife into the man’s thigh and twists.
The scream tears out of him instantly.
“Valdimir!” the man gasps. “It was Valdimir. The two of us!”
Salvatore glances toward someone standing behind him and gives a small nod.
A second later, the man steps into view, and my blood turns to ice because the man is smiling.
Not a friendly smile. Not even a cruel smile. His smile is… empty. The smile of someone who feels nothing at all.
“Raffaele, make it quick,” Salvatore says to the man, already turning away, already done with this. “And make sure the Bratva finds him. I want Dmitri Volkov to know exactly what happens to people who steal from us.”
“Wait!” The man’s voice cracks. “What about Leah? What about my family?”
Salvatore pauses. For a moment, I see something flicker across his face. Not quite mercy. But not quite ruthlessness either.
The same expression he had when I said no and he stepped back.
“Your wife will receive a death benefit. College fund for Leah. She’ll think you died in an accident at the docks.” He straightens his cuffs, those same cuffs I watched him adjust in my room. “That’s more than you deserve, but your daughter doesn’t deserve to grow up knowing her father was a traitor. We’ll tell your wife you died a hero.”
“Thank you,” the man whispers. “Thank you.”
Salvatore doesn’t respond. He’s already walking toward the door.
Toward me.
I stumble backward, but I’m not fast enough. The door swings open and he’s there, haloed by the harsh warehouse lights, and his eyes find mine immediately.
The same eyes that looked at me like I was something he wanted to devour less than an hour ago.
For one horrible second, we just stare at each other.
Then the sound of a single gunshot splits the air behind him.
I flinch. Can’t help it. My whole body recoils from the sound, from what it means, from the reality that someone just died 20 feet away from where I’m standing.
Salvatore doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink.
“Valentina.” His voice is carefully neutral. Not the heated command from my bedroom. Not the quiet menace from the warehouse. Something in between. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“You just—” I can’t finish the sentence. Can’t make my mouth form the words. “You were in my room. You were there and now you’re—”
“Yes.” He steps out of the warehouse, pulling the door closed behind him. Shutting away the body, the blood, the evidence of what he is. “I went from your bed to this. Because that’s who I am. That’s what I do.”
