MY MYSTERIOUS MAFIA

CHAPTER 6 - SHADOWS THAT FOLLOW

I told myself I should have walked away. That after that night—the night a stranger in a mask bled into my car and turned my ordinary world upside down—I should have driven as far as possible from him. But Madrid wasn’t as wide as it felt. His presence clung to me like the perfume of a storm after rain, invisible but impossible to ignore.

The next morning, when I woke up in that strange room, with expensive sheets wrapping my body and my bank account suddenly holding more zeros than I could comprehend, I had promised myself I would never get involved again. That I’d bury his face—those dark, haunted eyes—deep in my memory and go back to being who I was.

But promises are cheap when curiosity and fear walk hand in hand.

Because everywhere I went, I felt him. Not in person, but in shadows.

When I crossed the crowded streets of Gran Vía, I swore someone followed two steps behind. When I stopped at my favorite café, I felt a gaze burn into my back. And at night, when I shut down my laptop after hours of coding, my mind replayed the way he had said those words to me in the warehouse: “I don’t leave people who save me.”

I didn’t know what was more dangerous—his world, or the fact that part of me wanted to hear his voice again.

But danger doesn’t knock politely. It crashes.

That evening, as I left the university library with my laptop tucked under my arm, I saw the black car first. Parked across the street, tinted windows, the kind of car that didn’t belong near students who worried about rent and deadlines. My pulse quickened.

I walked faster, the sound of my heels sharp against the pavement, my breath shallow. A second car rolled by slowly, and in the reflection of its window, I saw it—two men in dark suits, eyes fixed on me.

My stomach dropped.

I knew enough about Antonio Cruz to recognize his men when I saw them. I had worked behind screens, hacking codes, breaking firewalls for his empire. But I was never meant to be visible. Never meant to be seen.

Yet here they were, following me.

I clutched my bag tighter and turned down a narrow street. My mind screamed a thousand possibilities—run, scream, call for help—but my legs carried me faster, until the sound of heavy footsteps confirmed it. They were closing in.

“Señorita Isabella.” The voice was low, mocking. “Your uncle wants a word.”

Uncle. Antonio.

The blood drained from my face.

I spun around, my back pressed to the cold brick wall. Two men blocked the exit of the alley, their shadows stretching like beasts across the ground. My throat tightened, fear clawing at me, but my mind was sharper than my panic. If they got me into that car, I would disappear. And nobody would even know how to find me.

“Stay away from me,” I managed, my voice trembling but loud enough to echo.

One of them smirked. “You’ve been seen with him. The mask. El Cruz. That makes you important.”

Important. A pawn.

Before I could respond, a sharp sound cut through the night. Not footsteps. Not a voice. A single, heavy thud—like a predator landing softly behind prey.

And then everything unraveled.

The first man dropped with a grunt, his arm twisted at an unnatural angle, his gun sliding across the ground. The second barely had time to draw his weapon before a black-gloved fist struck his jaw with brutal precision. He crumpled against the wall.

My heart froze.

Him.

Alejandro. Masked, bleeding still from wounds I thought he had recovered from, his presence filled the alley like thunder fills the sky. His eyes—dark, burning—locked on mine for only a second before scanning the shadows again.

“Did they hurt you?” His voice was sharp, colder than the steel he carried.

I shook my head, though my knees nearly gave way. “They… they were going to take me.”

His jaw clenched, muscles tight as he grabbed one of the men by the collar. “Send Antonio a message,” he growled before slamming the man into unconsciousness.

I should have run. I should have screamed. But I couldn’t move. Because in that moment, with the danger still dripping off him like sweat, I realized something terrifying.

He hadn’t just saved me. He had marked me.

And Antonio knew.

I didn’t know what scared me more in that moment—the men Antonio sent after me, or the way Alejandro stood there like the darkness itself had bent to his will. His mask glistened under the faint glow of the streetlamp, half of his face hidden, half revealed, like he was daring me to guess which part of him was real.

I swallowed hard, forcing words past my dry lips. “Why… why are they after me? I didn’t do anything.”

His gaze snapped to mine, piercing, like he could see through the frantic beating of my heart. “You breathed near me, Isabella. That’s enough reason for Antonio to use you.”

I wanted to scream at him for saying it so carelessly, but deep down, I knew he wasn’t wrong. Antonio was the kind of man who didn’t need proof—just opportunity. And I had just become one.

Alejandro stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, making the alley feel smaller with every stride. “From now on, you don’t go anywhere alone.”

The command in his voice made something inside me bristle. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, not flinching. “If Antonio thinks you’re leverage, he’ll keep coming. And I won’t give him the satisfaction of touching what’s mine.”

My heart stopped. Mine. The word hung between us like fire, both a promise and a curse.

I pushed back, anger breaking through the fear. “I’m not yours. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for you.”

The air tightened. His jaw clenched, and for the first time, I saw something raw flicker in his eyes—hurt, maybe, or something darker he refused to name.

“No,” he said finally, his voice rough, low. “But now you’re in it. And walking away won’t save you.”

He reached out, his gloved fingers brushing mine, not gently, but firmly, like a man who was used to claiming, not asking. For a second, I almost pulled back. Almost. But the truth was, even if I ran, where would I go? Antonio already had his eyes on me.

I hated that he was right.

He released my hand, but not the tension. “Come,” he ordered. “We’re leaving.”

I should have resisted. Instead, my legs followed, numb, my chest heavy with confusion. The black car that waited wasn’t the same as Antonio’s men—it was sleeker, quieter, and when the door opened, I caught a glimpse of Diego inside, his expression tight, protective.

“Safehouse,” Alejandro muttered.

Diego gave a sharp nod as I slid into the backseat, my hands trembling around my laptop bag. Alejandro entered last, his presence filling every inch of the confined space.

Silence stretched thick as the car pulled away from the alley. Madrid’s neon lights flashed past the windows, a blur of gold and shadow. I stared at my reflection in the glass, at the girl who just hours ago thought she could go back to a normal life. That girl was gone now.

Finally, I found my voice, quiet but cutting through the tension. “What do you want from me, Alejandro?”

For a long time, he didn’t answer. His eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead, unreadable. Then, softly, he said the one thing I never expected.

“The truth.”

The words sank into me like ice. “What truth?”

He turned, his mask half-shifted, revealing just enough of his scarred cheek and piercing eyes to make my heart lurch. “About Antonio. About why he really keeps you close. You think you’re just a hacker to him? No, Isabella. You’re something else. And I intend to find out.”

My blood ran cold.

Because deep down, I feared he was right.

Before I could press further, the car screeched to a halt. My head snapped up just as Diego cursed under his breath.

A barricade. Three black SUVs blocked the narrow road ahead, their headlights burning through the windshield.

Alejandro’s body stiffened, his hand already reaching for the weapon under his jacket. His voice dropped into that terrifying calm I had heard once before—the calm of a predator.

“Stay down, Isabella.”

And then the first gunshot cracked the night wide open.