Mafia Boss Begged Me Back

I had loved my Mafia Boss Alexander in silence for ten years. I was the only woman he fucked.

Almost every night he would pin me down and pound me until I was screaming his name, filling me with his seed.

He never touched anyone else. I thought I was special to him.

I was wrong.

To appease his fiancée Sophia’s family, Alexander dangled my mute little sister from a helicopter. I begged. I knelt. I offered my life for hers.

"Enough, Ivy. The show is over," he scoffed, wiping the blood from my lip with his thumb. "It was just a silicone doll. Did you really think I would kill your sister over this? I just wanted to show you what happens when you defy me."

But he didn't know that it really was Lily.

I risked my life to take revenge on Sophia, only to be shot into the Mediterranean by Alexander's bullet.

But why did the high and mighty Don go completely mad, searching the world for my body?

Unngh… A muffled groan escaped my gritted teeth. 

The cat o' nine tails, soaked in brine, cracked against my back again. 

But I didn’t scream. 

This was the law of Alexander.

He was my Don, the man I had loved in silence for ten years. If this was the penance he demanded, I would take it.

He was the one who picked me out of the orphan pile. He molded me, sharpened me into his deadliest weapon, his Soldato.

For the last decade, I was the only woman who warmed his bed. He never touched anyone else. In the dark, his fingers would trace my scars with a possessiveness that felt almost like love.

He was cruel, yes, but he had given me a home when the world wanted me dead.

The shipment—tonnes of high-grade cocaine from the Colombian Cartel—had been hijacked. 

As Alexander’s most trusted Head of Security, the failure fell squarely on my shoulders. I was the one bleeding for it. 

But the truth?

It was Sophia, Alexander's fiancée, and also the spoiled Princess of the Neapolitan Camorra. She had turned up her nose at the secure harbor warehouse, complaining it was "too filthy" for someone of her stature. She insisted on moving the exchange to a high-end yacht club to suit her "status." That vanity move blew our cover, leading us straight into an ambush set by Interpol and a rival family. 

In the ensuing chaos, Alexander had taken a bullet to the shoulder shielding Sophia. 

I had carved a bloody path out of that hellhole with my submachine gun, practically dragging the two of them into the getaway car. I stayed behind to provide suppressive fire, nearly dying in a hail of bullets just to ensure they escaped. 

But when I dragged my battered body back to the estate, there were no medals. No gratitude. 

Alexander was being rushed to the hospital.

"The Don is down because of your incompetence," the Elder from the Council spat. "Report to the torture chamber." 

Fifty lashes. Inverted suspension. 

I bit down so hard I thought my molars would shatter.

My consciousness was beginning to drift when the heavy iron door creaked. Two guards stood outside, their voices hushed but carrying in the echoey stone corridor. 

"Did you hear? The Camorra demanded Ivy’s head as compensation for the ambush. They wanted to skin her alive."

"But Don refused to hand over Ivy," the second guard whispered. "She is Don’s favorite pet. So, Don decided to offer Ivy’s mute sister Lily as substitute."

"To whom? Not Sophia’s brother Luca?" 

"Yeah, Luca. That psycho running the underground brothels in Naples for the Camorra. Women don't come out of his care looking like humans anymore. I heard he tortured a few virgins to death just last week." 

The words hit me harder than the whip. They were poison needles driving straight into my eardrums. 

The Camorra’s Red Light District… That place was a meat grinder. 

Lily. My little sister. The only blood I had left in this wretched world. She couldn't even speak. If she fell into the hands of a sadist like Luca… 

Pure, unadulterated terror eclipsed the physical pain. 

"Get me down! Let me down now! I need to see the Don!" 

I thrashed against the chains like a feral animal, tearing the flesh of my wrists until the iron was slick with my own blood. 

The moment my feet hit the stone floor, I didn't care about the open wounds on my back. I didn't care about the blood trailing down my pant legs. 

I stumbled, then ran, adrenaline fueling a desperate sprint toward the main villa.