The Mafia Don's Runaway Collateral Wife

ella

rror in Gianna's eyes vanished, replaced by a triump

shed a theatrical, piercing shrie

f white flashes erupted around us. It was a trap. Gianna's two massive bod

tly in front of me. He bared his teeth, a low, feral grow

ing her backward stumble to create a vital gap. I scooped up a terrified Chia

t exit sign. Behind us, Gianna's shrill voice cut through the chao

strooms. The air here was cold, smelling of cheap bleach and dust. The buzzing fluor

chest heaving. I pushed the kids into a b

aking violently. The flashing lights, the shouting, the feeling of being hunted-it was tearing at

Your mother a

d off the tiles. I spun around

our only exit. Her eyes swept over my children with utter disdain before

tle thing, isn't it

It hit the floor, and Gianna immediately brought her six-inch stiletto down on its head. She ground her heel into the fabri

aring scream, her small

sn't just an attack on a child

Moretti an

ifying, calculated precision that belonged entirely

Pinching it between his thumb and forefinger, he f

ra

out an unearthly wail, her leg buckling instantly as she

d!" one of the guards r

pocket, he ripped open a small paper packet-a homemade mixture of stolen restaurant black peppe

taggered backward, violently coughing and clawing at th

ed silence, broken only by Gianna's

it back into Chiara's trembling arms. Then, he turned to Gianna. He looked down at the bleeding soci

nded, his voice devoid o

you!" Gianna spat, her face

ct, the atmosphere in

iking the tiles with absolute, unquestionable authority. A second later, the muffled but unmis