MY MYSTERIOUS MAFIA

CHAPTER 13 - ASHES OF MIDNIGHT

The world detonated in fire and thunder.

Two shots. One heartbeat.

The impact slammed me against the wall, plaster cracking under my shoulders. For a second, I thought the blaze in my chest meant I was dead. But the pain never came.

Instead, Antonio staggered. Blood spread across his silk suit, crimson blooming like a curse. His eyes widened—not in agony, but disbelief. The devil was bleeding.

“You…” he hissed, clutching his side. His voice rasped like a serpent.

I didn’t answer. My gun stayed steady, my breath ragged but unbroken. Rage burned hotter than fear.

Then—

“Ah… Alejandro…”

Isabella’s voice, soft and weak, dragged me back from fire.

I turned. Her blood pooled across the floor, her skin pale as frost. She was slipping too fast.

“No,” I breathed. Dropping to my knees, I pressed both hands against her wound, desperate to stem the crimson tide. “Stay with me, mi vida. Don’t you dare leave me now.”

Her lashes fluttered, her lips trembling. “It’s… cold.”

“No. Look at me. Just me.” My throat tore with the words, my vision blurring. “You’re stronger than this. Stronger than me. Fight.”

Behind me, Antonio laughed—hoarse, broken, but mocking. “The king brought to his knees by a woman.”

“Shut your mouth,” I snarled.

Even bleeding, he smirked. “You can’t save her. Just like you couldn’t save your parents. Death follows you, Alejandro. Always.”

The words cut deep, reopening wounds I thought buried. My parents. Their screams. My trembling hands as a child. Helpless.

And now Isabella—bleeding because of me.

“No,” I whispered. “Not this time. Not her.”

Antonio’s soldiers wavered, glancing at their bleeding boss. Some faltered. Others raised their weapons, ready to finish the slaughter.

I had seconds. Maybe less.

My eyes found Diego. He lay crumpled, but his spirit still blazed. He met my gaze, and in that silent exchange, we both knew. This wasn’t survival anymore. This was war.

With one hand clamped over Isabella’s wound, I fired with the other. Fury drove each bullet. Shadows dropped one after another, smoke thickening, gunpowder choking the air.

Antonio stumbled toward the exit, leaving his men to die for him. Coward.

But I couldn’t chase. Not now. Not when Isabella’s life spilled beneath my hands.

“Diego!” I roared. “Get up. We have to move.”

He crawled forward, every inch agony. His bloodied hand closed around mine, pressing something cold into my palm. A key.

“Safehouse… east side,” he rasped. “Doctor.”

Hope flared, fragile but alive.

I scooped Isabella into my arms. She felt weightless, fragile. Her head lolled against my shoulder, blood soaking my shirt, but her breath brushed faint against my skin. She lived. Still.

“Hold on, mi reina,” I whispered, kissing her temple. “I’ll get you out.”

Gunfire chased us, but I didn’t stop. With Diego limping at my side, I tore through smoke and blood, my vow burning through me—

No one else I loved would die tonight.

The city outside was alive with sirens and neon. Madrid glittered like a graveyard of lights. But for me, the night was fire and blood.

Isabella’s blood.

Her breath grew shallow in my arms, her warmth fading. “Stay with me,” I begged, running through alleys I knew like scars. “Don’t you leave me. Not now. Not ever.”

Her lashes trembled. Her lips shaped my name. “Alejandro…”

The way she said it lit something savage inside me.

Behind, Diego staggered, pale but unyielding. My brother. My shadow. Even broken, he kept moving.

But Antonio’s men weren’t done. Voices echoed through alleys. Boots thundered on stone. Searchlights sliced the dark.

The noose was tightening.

And Isabella was slipping.

To be continued…

We slipped into a ruined bakery, ash and flour clinging to the air. I set Isabella on a flour-dusted table, my hands shaking as I checked her wound.

Blood still poured. Too much. Too fast.

“No, no…” My voice cracked as I pressed harder. “You’re not dying on me. You hear me? You are not allowed to die.”

Her eyes opened a fraction. Glassy. Fragile. A faint smile ghosted her lips. “You… sound scared.”

“Because I am,” I admitted, tears burning hot. “You terrify me. You’re the only thing I can’t control.”

She tried to laugh but winced, her hand trembling in mine.

Diego leaned against the wall, pale as death. “Move now. If she’s not stitched in an hour, she’s gone.”

I met his eyes. Nodded. Fire surged through my fear.

I lifted her again, cradling her, and we fled back into the night.

The city was a warzone. Sirens. Tires. Shadows lunging from corners. Antonio’s men closing in.

But desperation made me ruthless. Each time they appeared, my gun spat fire. Bodies dropped, alleys stained red. Every step I carved was for her—for her faint pulse, for her fragile breaths.

We reached the bridge over the Manzanares River. Streetlamps shimmered across steel water. The east side waited beyond—the safehouse, the doctor, hope.

But the bridge crawled with soldiers. SUVs blocked both ends. Dozens of guns gleamed in the headlights.

A trap.

Diego cursed. “They’re everywhere.”

I shifted Isabella, brushing hair from her pale face. “Close your eyes, mi reina,” I whispered. “This part… you don’t need to see.”

Her lashes trembled. Her hand clutched my shirt weakly. “Don’t… leave me.”

“Never,” I swore, kissing her temple.

Then I looked at Diego. “You still trust me?”

Through blood and pain, he managed a grin. “Always.”

That was enough.

Gunfire erupted. My bullets tore through headlights, plunging the bridge into chaos. Screams echoed. Engines roared. Shadows scattered.

I moved like death itself, one arm holding Isabella, the other unleashing vengeance. Diego fought beside me, battered but unyielding, each shot carving our path.

The bridge became an inferno—metal burning, tires exploding, bodies falling.

And still, I carried her. My queen. My salvation. My curse.

By the time we broke through the blockade, smoke and silence cloaked the night. Headlights flickered like dying stars. Bodies littered the ground.

But I didn’t look back.

The safehouse was close. Just a few more blocks. Just a few more breaths.

I glanced down at Isabella. Her face was pale as moonlight. Her lips parted.

“Alejandro…” Her voice was a whisper, a plea. “Don’t… let me go.”

My chest shattered. Tears burned as I pressed my forehead to hers, still running, still bleeding.

“Never,” I swore. “You’re mine, Isabella. I’ll burn the world before I let it take you from me.”

Her pulse fluttered faintly against my chest. Too faint.

The city roared around us. Sirens. Fire. Blood.

And in that chaos, I knew—

Midnight had only just begun.