Stolen by the Mob Boss - A Mafia Romance

ood of Russian criminals for hire. Petty bullies, drug dealers, the

, and brothers were worth to them. Even now, the thought makes my bloo

re methodical, starting with my father. A shot to both knees left him defenseless. They dragged my mother to the bed

d my famil

them none

etings. I wanted to look them in the eyes as I led them into my trap. It was the ultimate test of control, sitting in front of them and not losing my shit. Every bone in my body, every fiber of my being, was alive with rage. Images of them

ob. In and out. They seemed gleeful, eager to do whatever it was I needed. I

ed and rig everything up. The moment they stepped into the bedroom, it began to fil

ed what they had done. Andrei, to his credit, wasn't as big of a coward as his twin. He took eve

y moment since the womb with, die before him. Had I had any mercy, I would've given him a bit of relief, perhaps waited a few hours to let Aleksandr's death set

d him to finish the job, he took off for the door, hobbling for his escape. It was pathetic watching such a bro

pressed the gun to

murmured, gurgling on

't spare

nted the front door with his blood. His body twitched just

as d

he dead. But I don't suppose that's what I was looking for. I knew deep down that their deaths

fe. And with nothing and no one holding me back, I coul

are some people who needed to straighten up. Simple things that paid the bills. Enough to prove myself to tho

d another. So ma

der. Right now, the man with the money is Mr. X. I don't know who he is and

hat's the ma

om the nightclub. The drive took a bit of time, but it was nice to soak

of two men inside. One in the front, one in the back. I step out, move to my trunk, and pop it open. Joshua seems t

d the fight is gone, flicked off like a light switch. Now that he's not struggling anymore, I drag him out of th

atch as it slides down just a crack. Mr.

is you

hauffeur steps out from the driver's seat and stalks towards me, scoopin

gap in the window. I take it and pe

X assures me. "You may

the verge of being insulted a

aper through the crack in the window. On it is a name and an add

pocket. "That won't be a problem." Without anot

ht, and I need a bit of fresh air after the long drive. As I press on the accel

nd a man's ag

tick around to listen. To this day, I hate the sound of gunshots. In my mind's eye, I can s

get away from these thoughts for

another