THE MAFIA KING BROKEN ROSE novel Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I stared at him, and what he had said left me shaking.

Belonging to the mafia that’s a death wish.

A death wish for me.

My throat tightened, and I struggled to speak, to process what he was asking of me.

This wasn’t a choice, it was a demand.

And when you break a demand of a mafia don.

You die.

“I…” I began, my voice trembling. “I don’t—”

Dominic tilted his head, his expression unreadable. Then, with an unnerving calm, he reached into his jacket and drew the gun again.

The click of the chamber loading sent a jolt of fear through me.

He aimed it squarely at my father.

“No!” I screamed, my body lurching forward instinctively. “Please, don’t!”

My father, coughing and bloodied on the floor, struggled to lift his head. “Let him do it,” he rasped, his voice weak but resolute. “A shameless man like me should die.”

Dominic chuckled, a low, rich sound that sent a shiver down my spine. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he laughed, the unbuttoned collar of his shirt revealing the broad expanse of his chest beneath his tailored suit. He was calm, too calm, as if death was just another tool at his disposal.

“You’re a brave man,” Dominic said, his voice edged with mockery. He leaned closer to my father, the barrel of the gun inches from his head. “But bravery doesn’t pay debts.”

“Please,” my mother whimpered from the couch, her frail voice barely audible. “Please… I’ll do it. I will fucking do it. Just don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt my family.”

I swallowed hard, the room spinning as Dominic’s eyes flicked back to me.

“Is that your answer, Aria?” he asked, his voice soft but carrying the weight of a threat. “Will you save them, will you be mine or should I put an end to this mess right now?”

I opened my mouth, ready to agree, but the words caught in my throat.

“Give me time,” I said, the plea spilling out before I could stop it. “Just… give me some time to think.”

His mood changed almost instantly.

“Do you think this is a negotiation?” he snarled, his voice a menacing growl.

“Please,” I begged, my voice cracking. “I just need time. Two days. That’s all I’m asking.”

Dominic studied me for a long, agonizing moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he straightened, lowering the gun.

“Two days,” he said, his tone clipped.

Relief washed over me, but it was short-lived.

Dominic reached into his pocket, pulling out a sleek black business card. Without looking at me, he tossed it to the floor at my feet.

“Call me,” he said, his voice like steel. “Unless, of course, you want to see your father and mother dead.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, cold and final.

Without another word, Dominic turned and strode toward the door, his movements smooth and deliberate. Alessio followed close behind, but not before shooting me one last disdainful look.

The room fell deathly silent as the door slammed shut behind them.

I collapsed to the floor, my legs giving out beneath me. My chest heaved with silent sobs, the weight of everything crashing down on me at once.

I buried my face in my hands, tears spilling freely as my body shook.

No one knew.

Not my mother. Not my father.

No one knew that I only had six months left to live.

What else could I do?

The room remained silent except for my muffled sobs, the heaviness of what had just transpired pressing down on me.

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