Bound to the Mafia Lord, wanted by his rival

DARLA. “Sign the papers Capo Frederick!” Devante's voice echoed loudly across the room. "I don't like waiting!” I stood frozen in shock as the man I had just saved days ago, came haunting me and threatening my father. He was Don Devante. The Mafia lord. My thoughts spun in chaos as memories from a few days ago surfaced clearly and unwanted. *** “You son of a b***h! What do you think you can do to me?” my brother Gino barked at one of the hoodlums. His voice cracked through the alley like a whip, sharp and furious, but the men in front of us didn’t even flinch. Gino stepped forward and planted himself directly in front of me, his broad shoulders forming a wall between me and the circle of men closing in around us. His arm stretched slightly to the side as if to push me farther behind him, shielding me from their fury. It was a gesture he had made countless times before. Still, my fingers curled slightly at my sides. It wasn’t like I wasn’t used to all this. In fact, I had seen scenes like this more times than I could count. Raised in a Mafia family, violence wasn’t shocking anymore. Threats, intimidation, bloodshed—they were as ordinary as dinner conversations or family gatherings. From the moment we were old enough to understand words like loyalty and betrayal, we were taught the rules of the world we belonged to. In that world, there was only one law. The strong survived. The weak were discarded. And right now, standing in this narrow alley with a handful of armed hoodlums staring us down, we were the weak ones. “You wouldn’t want to offend us,” Gino continued, his voice growing louder, more forceful. “My father is the capo of the eastern region. I dare you to make a move.” I almost sighed despite the tension twisting in my chest. That was Gino for you. Always the same trick. Whenever strength wasn’t on our side, whenever we were cornered and couldn’t fight our way out, he fell back on the one weapon we still had—our name. Our father’s rank. Our family’s power. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes the mere mention of our father’s position was enough to make people step back, to make them rethink whatever stupid idea had brought them face to face with us. But tonight… the reaction was different. The man standing at the front of the group scoffed. The sound was loud and mocking, echoing slightly against the brick walls around us. “Eastern region?” he repeated slowly, as if tasting the words and finding them amusing. A crooked grin stretched across his face. “Even your father has to bow to our Don.” His voice carried a quiet confidence that made my stomach tighten. Then he turned slightly, glancing at the men behind him. It wasn’t even a full movement, just a subtle tilt of his head but it was enough. The rest of the hoodlums shifted immediately, spreading out, their boots scraping against the ground as they stepped forward. Closing the distance. Tightening the circle. “So why should we be afraid of you?” the man added casually. The words hung in the air like a blade. My heart began to pound harder in my chest and Instinctively, I took a small step backward. The movement was barely noticeable, but suddenly the ground felt unstable beneath my feet, and I became painfully aware of the thin line of sweat forming along my spine. The men kept moving forward, slowly and deliberate and just like that, my mother’s voice echoed inside my head. “In a situation you can’t handle, the only thing to do is run.” I could see her as she had said it, smiling at me across the kitchen table as if she were offering simple advice about life. As if it were the most obvious thing in the world. My throat tightened. “And when it’s not just you…” her voice continued softly in my memory. “…split up and still run.” The words wrapped around my thoughts like a warning. Or maybe a command. I immediately placed my hands on Gino’s shoulders and squeezed them lightly. The touch was subtle, something that would seem ordinary to anyone watching us. But Gino and I had grown up in a world where words were not always safe to use. We had learned early that sometimes the smallest signals meant everything. Carefully, I traced the letter ‘R’ against the back of his shoulder with my finger. Run. For a fraction of a second, Gino’s body tensed beneath my hands. Then he understood. He always did. Without turning around or giving any visible reaction that would alert the men closing in on us, his posture shifted slightly. To anyone else it might have looked like he was preparing to lunge forward. But I knew better. And in the next instant, it happened. In the twinkle of an eye, we split apart. Gino darted in one direction while I sprinted in the other. The sudden movement caught the hoodlums off guard. Their shouts erupted behind us, loud and furious, but by then my legs were already moving as fast as they could carry me. I ran. I didn’t look back. I didn’t dare slow down. My heart hammered violently in my chest as my feet pounded against the pavement. The wind rushed past my ears, carrying with it distant shouts and the faint echo of hurried footsteps. I kept running. Through one corner. Then another. Only when the sounds behind me began to fade, when the shouting grew faint and the footsteps disappeared entirely, did I finally allow myself to slow down. I bent forward slightly, placing my hands on my knees as I struggled to catch my breath. The air burned in my lungs. My heart was still racing but at least… I was no longer being chased. “That was close,” I muttered under my breath. The words had barely left my mouth when suddenly…A man stumbled out of nowhere. He appeared so abruptly that I nearly jumped out of my skin. He was panting heavily, his breathing ragged and uneven, like someone who had been running for a long time. His hair was disheveled, sticking to his forehead, and dark streaks of blood covered his hands. My eyes widened. There was more blood smeared across his forehead, slowly trickling down the side of his face. He looked badly injured. “Save me,” he thundered hoarsely. I blinked in confusion. Save him? My mind raced instantly. What if he was a criminal? After all, men covered in blood didn’t exactly appear out of thin air asking for help for innocent reasons. And I had barely saved myself a few minutes ago, the last thing I needed was to get dragged into another dangerous situation. I stood there frozen, my thoughts clashing violently as I tried to decide what to do. Help him? Or run again? But before I could make up my mind…his hand suddenly shot forward. He grabbed me firmly by the waist and pulled me toward him. The sudden movement knocked the breath out of me. And before I could even process what was happening, his lips crashed against mine, harsh, possessive and demanding. My eyes widened in pure shock. Who on earth is this guy? Why is there blood all over him? Why did he ask me to save him? And most importantly…Who gave him the right to steal my first kiss?