I MARRIED THE MAFIA DEVIL I WAS MEANT TO KILL

Some names are easy to forget, while some stick around long enough to alter who you are. His was one of them. RAZE. I didn’t voice it because there was no need. It echoed around in my skull free as f**k. It remained repetitive, an itch I couldn’t soothe. Every case I pulled up, every tip I followed, and every nothing that made me think maybe I was wasting my fuckin time. It led back to him. I sat at my desk staring blankly into space. The overhead lights in my office had been off for hours. The light from my desk lamp bounced off the manila files stacked haphazardly before me. Newspaper clippings, photos, case reports, and transaction logs that led nowhere but refused to feel futile. There was a correlation, f**k if I knew what it was. All I knew was I hadn’t decrypted it yet. “You still here?” I kept my gaze down. “Go home Elara.” “I will.” “You told me that three hours ago.” “I’m serious.” The scrape of a chair moving against the floor startled me. It stopped shortly after. Evan was still there, silently leaning against my doorway. He was always looking out for me too much. “You’re fuckin grasping at straws,” Evan finally spoke. I reclined back into my chair, running my fingers along my temple. “Straw doesn’t grow from nothing.” “It’s not always something you can see.” “I don’t have to see it," I said. "I just have to know it’s there.” I grabbed my pen, twirling it between my fingers. “You’re too deep in this.” His movement caught my eye. “And you’re not deep enough.” A tiny bit of strain appeared in his jaw. "This is more than just another case for you." My eyes stayed on his. “I know.” “You don’t sleep. You don’t eat properly. You’ve been on this for months.” “Years.” That came out faster than my thoughts could catch up. His expression changed. “Years?” he repeated. I did not respond. If that happened, explaining would be necessary. “You need to let someone else take over,” he said. “No.” “That wasn’t a suggestion.” “Then it’s a bad order.” He didn't respond immediately, he just looked at me. "You're not rational." "I can think clearly for the first time." "This isn't what you think." "That's because you have no idea what I know." Evan moved closer, his eyebrows furrowed as his fingers brushed slowly over his chin. “Enlighten me.” I leaned forward, putting my palms flat on the table. "Have you ever looked at a file and realized there's a problem, but you haven't been able to provide proof?" “All the time.” “That’s this,” I said. “Everything around him is clean. It's just too clean. Money moves but doesn’t exist. People disappear but there’s no record. Deals happen, but nothing traces back to him.” "That's how individuals like him thrive." "That's how murderers like him get away with their crimes." I replied. He could hear the anger in my tone, and for a moment, silence hung there instead of words. “You don’t even have proof he exists.” I laughed quietly. Adrenaline surged through me. What he just said hit me too close, and it really upset me. “He exists.” “You’re building a case on a ghost.” “I’m building a case on a man who thinks he’s untouchable.” “And what happens when you can’t prove it?” “I will.” “That isn't a response." "You're only getting this one." He looked at me with so much concern, like I was doing something wrong. “You’re going to burn yourself out,” he said. “I’ve been burned before.” He frowned slightly. “What does that mean?” “Nothing.” That was a lie. I didn't want him to know about my past, and why this case was so important to me. Suddenly, there was a sharp knock on the door. Our eyes turned that way, toward where it stood. "Open the door," he called out. A creak came before the opening began. The hinges groaned under each inch it moved. A young man walked into the room, his gaze moving slowly till it landed right on me. “Which one of you is Elara?” “I am,” I said as my eyes scanned him. He took a step forward, then set down a heavy envelope on my table. “No names,” he said. “No follow-up, you didn’t get this from me.” “Who sent you?” He smiled. “ That doesn’t matter. What’s inside does.” He stormed out of the room just like that. Sound faded out once more, and silence settled back into the space. Evan shifted his gaze to me. "Don't tell me that's what I think it is." I kept my gaze fixed on the envelope for a while before bringing it closer. “If it is…” I opened it slowly. What I saw inside caused my chest to tighten. There were photos, documents, transaction trails, names. My eyes widened in shock. These were not just nicknames, there were real names. The documents that I held were the proof I had been searching for. The proof that would pin down that invincible mafia devil. "That one," I whispered, pointing at the document that carried his real name. Evan stood up and moved closer. "Certain?" “Yes.” My heart raced in excitement because this was solid proof, and one small error from the mafia might put an end to all this. "Where did this even originate?" he inquired. “I don’t care.” “You should.” “I don’t.” Without warning, I pulled the stack of pages together, and tucked them into a paper sleeve. “I’m taking this.” “Wait... you can’t just run with evidence like that. We need to log it, verify it... ” “I’ll verify it myself.” “That’s not procedure.” “I don’t give a damn about procedure.” I yelled, and that stopped him. “You’re crossing a line.” “I crossed that a long time ago.” He watched me silently for a bit before turning to face me. "I take it that you're not doing this for work?" I remained silent. Truth stayed quiet inside me. Not because it hid, but because speaking changed nothing. I grabbed my jacket right then. "Where do you intend to go?" he said. "To see this through." I stepped out quickly. I was surprised by how harsh the air felt outside. For a moment I stayed still inside the car, the envelope placed beside me. My eyes stayed fixed on it. My fingers gripped hard on the steering wheel. “You don’t get away with it,” I muttered under my breath. I started my car and drove off into the fog. Trees lined the shortcut home, their shapes blurring into shadows. As I drove, I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off. Suddenly a shape slid over the pavement. It was a man with a gun, then two men, then three. My breath caught. I was about to go into shock but the adrenaline that flushed through my veins didn't let me. I dragged the control lever to reverse and stepped on the throttle. The first guy shot at me. The car glass cracked. “Shit... shit... shit... ” Another shot. This time it damaged the windscreen. This wasn’t just a random attack, this was targeted. Finding those papers wasn’t their only aim, they wanted to kill me.