The Mafia Alpha Runaway Mate

Chapter 3

KAEL'S POV

I had been pacing around my office for more than an hour, taking slow drags from the cigar between my fingers while trying to ignore the tension building in my chest. Beni had been brought into the mansion over an hour ago, and although I knew the medic we'd kidnapped was treating him, nobody had come to give me an update. I wanted to go to the game room myself, but I couldn't risk showing my men how worried I was. They could never discover one of my greatest weaknesses because the moment they did, the respect I had spent years building would begin to crumble.

“Relax, Kael. If something had happened, Damon would already be here. He's good at what he does.”

Luna's voice came from the L-shaped sofa in the corner of my office. She was lying comfortably against the cushions, looking as though my brother's condition had nothing to do with her.

I stopped pacing and looked toward Ronan, my right-hand man and the only person besides me whom I trusted without question.

“Go check on my brother.”

Ronan stood immediately and left without asking a single question. He understood me well enough to know that when I gave an order, I expected it followed rather than discussed.

The door closed behind him, and Luna watched it for a moment before looking back at me.

“Speaking of loyal dogs,” she said with a faint smirk.

She rose from the sofa and walked toward me, deliberately swaying her hips as she approached. Before I could say anything, she wrapped her arms around my neck and ran her fingers along the back of it.

“I know exactly what you need to relax, baby,” she whispered.

I removed her hands and stepped away from her.

“My brother was shot, Luna. What I need right now is for him to recover, not a quickie while he's fighting for his life.”

Her expression soured, and she returned to the sofa, dropping onto it with an exaggerated pout.

Luna was attractive, intelligent, and useful, but that was never why I kept her close. She was one of us, and her knowledge of computers and security systems had saved my organization more than once. She knew how to get into systems most people couldn't even find, and when it mattered, she knew how to keep her mouth shut.

Another ten minutes passed.

My patience was running thin.

I had warned Beni countless times not to take unnecessary risks, but my brother had never been good at listening. He was determined to prove that he could handle himself, and sooner or later, that recklessness was going to get him killed.

The office door finally opened.

Ronan walked in with a smile.

“Relax. He's fine. The medic stabilized him, and she says he'll recover.”

The tension in my shoulders eased.

“Make sure everything is cleaned up.”

“Already done.”

I nodded. Apart from Beni, Ronan was the only person who knew about my weakness, and I trusted him to make sure nobody else ever discovered it.

I left the office and moved quickly through the mansion until I reached the game room. When I pushed the door open, I expected to find Beni surrounded by my men.

Instead, my eyes immediately went to the pool table.

Beni was lying across it with his abdomen wrapped in fresh bandages. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was steady.

Relief came first.

Then I noticed the woman standing several feet away with a gun pointed directly at my men.

I stopped.

She wasn't crying or begging. She wasn't even trembling.

Her grip on the weapon was steady, and her eyes moved across the room, taking in the men surrounding her, the exits, and every possible opening she could use.

She looked like someone planning her escape, not someone waiting to be rescued.

I narrowed my eyes.

Who the hell was she?

The woman took a cautious step backward, keeping her weight positioned as though she could move at any moment.

“Let me go, and no one gets hurt,” she said.

Her voice was firm.

One of my men stepped toward her.

He barely took two steps before she fired.

The bullet struck his hand, sending his weapon clattering across the floor.

Before anyone could react, she fired twice more. One bullet hit another man in the shoulder, while the second struck a third in the thigh.

Both men dropped.

The room went silent.

Gambo and Damon stared at her in disbelief.

Gambo recovered first and started toward her, but I stepped forward.

“Lower the gun.”

She spun around immediately.

The weapon pointed straight at my head.

For the first time, I saw her face properly.

She was beautiful.

Her honey-colored eyes met mine without hesitation, while her chestnut hair was tied high behind her head. Her features were delicate, with fair skin and soft lips that looked completely out of place in a room filled with armed criminals and blood.

Her clothes confirmed that she was the medic my men had brought here. She wore dark blue medical cargo pants with reflective strips and a matching shirt, and despite the loose clothing, I could see the slender curves of her body.

But it wasn't her appearance that held my attention.

It was the way she stood there with a gun pointed at my head as though she had nothing to lose.

“I asked nicely,” I said calmly. “Don't make me take the gun from you.”

“I'll kill you before you take a single step.”

She didn't blink.

Behind her, Gambo and Damon raised their weapons.

“You might,” I admitted, “but even if you manage to shoot me, you aren't getting out of this house alive.”

I expected that to frighten her.

Instead, she gave a faint shrug.

“I can either die here for nothing or take a criminal off the streets before I die. That isn't exactly a difficult choice.”

Her finger rested near the trigger.

She wasn't bluffing.

“Fine. You win.”

I slowly raised both hands.

“Lower your weapons,” I ordered without taking my eyes off her. “Everyone.”

Gambo hesitated, but my expression was enough to make him obey. Damon lowered his weapon next, followed by the others.

The woman kept hers trained on me.

“You're not fooling me,” she said. “The moment I lower this gun, one of your men will put a bullet in the back of my head.”

“They won't.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“You have my word.”

She studied me for several seconds.

“The word of a criminal doesn't mean much.”

“Maybe not. But mine does.”

I had spent years building my reputation around one simple rule.

When I gave my word, I kept it.

“Lower the gun, and no one will lay a hand on you.”

Her eyes remained fixed on mine. She was trying to decide whether I meant it.

Eventually, her arms lowered.

The gun slipped from her fingers and hit the floor.

“b***h,” one of the wounded men muttered.

I saw him move toward her.

He had barely taken a step when I drew the weapon tucked into the back of my waistband and fired.

The shot echoed through the room.

The man collapsed.

Silence followed.

I lowered my gun.

“I gave my word.”

Nobody moved.

Elena turned toward the body, then looked back at me. She hadn't flinched when I fired, but the surprise in her eyes told me she hadn't expected me to kill my own man.

“No one here is going to hurt you,” I said. “What's your name?”

She drew a slow breath through her nose before lifting her chin.

The movement exposed the graceful line of her neck, and suddenly, something in the air caught my attention.

Her scent.

It was faint but strangely sweet, carrying a fresh citrus note that reached me even from several feet away.

My body reacted before I understood why.

Something deep inside me stirred.

My wolf.

The sudden force of his presence nearly made me lose my composure.

Mine.

The word echoed through my mind.

My expression hardened.

Impossible.

I had never reacted to a woman's scent like this. Not once.

“Elena,” she answered.