Loving the Ruthless Mafia King

e could think about was the cold, calculated promise of the dark man who had appeared in their home a week ago. His words had cut through her like a

footsteps echoing softly in the stillness. She knew, deep down, that she'd never be able to gather $200,0

ess chatter of customers with an aching smile. Every dollar was precious. She took on shifts at the convenience store down the street, organizing the shelves late into the night, her hands growing numb as she stacked cans and swept the

d, and her eyes burned from lack of sleep, but she forced herself to keep going. Even though she knew it was impossible. She trie

he was, she couldn't simply collapse into bed. Instead, she'd glance around the cramped, cluttered apartment, take a deep breath, and begin tidying up,

ut could at least fill his stomach. She'd leave it on the counter with a note, in case he came home sober enough

ur. She became paranoid, constantly glancing over her shoulder, every unfamiliar face in the diner or the store sending a jolt of fear through her. The thought of him returning, of that

eemed to notice the deadline hanging over them, as though the threat didn't apply to him. He spent his days sprawled out on the couch, a beer in h

ch, his unshaven face cast in harsh shadows from the flickering light of the television. His gaze was unfocused, glassy, as though he were staring at something far away,

, her voice barely

roat tightening as she fought back the urge to say something-anything-that might pull him back to reality, t

ppen? she wanted to ask, the question

ed and told stories, who had danced with her mother in the living room on lazy Sunday afternoons. The man in front of her was a ghost of that person, hollowed out and broken, and she co

k down onto the edge of her bed, her body slumping forward as the exhaustion washed over her in waves. Her hands trembled slight

her like a suffocating blanket. She was on her own. Truly, utterly alone. Her fa

her, not anyone else. If she was going to survive this, she'd have to do it on her own. She'

uiet, almost amused cruelty. And for the first time, she felt something other than fear. It was a faint, flickering spark of defianc

e closed her eyes, trying to block out the images of what might happen if she failed. The last thing she felt as