MY MYSTERIOUS MAFIA

CHAPTER 9 - FIRESTORM

Gunfire roared around us like a storm unleashed. The windows were already shattered, glass crunching beneath us as I lay pinned beneath Alejandro’s weight, his arm wrapped around me like a shield. The smell of gunpowder burned my nose, mixing with the faint, metallic tang of blood that clung to him.

My pulse was a drum, pounding so loud I could barely hear myself think.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. But all I could do was cling to him, trusting a man I barely knew—yet who felt like the only thing keeping me alive.

Alejandro’s voice cut through the chaos, deep and commanding.

“Stay down. Don’t move until I tell you.”

Before I could reply, he was gone, moving with lethal precision. He rolled off me, gun in hand, and fired back through the broken glass. Each shot cracked like lightning, his movements terrifyingly efficient.

I pressed myself against the floor, trembling, trying to make sense of what was happening. Shadows darted outside the penthouse windows—Antonio’s men. Dozens of them. Maybe more.

“Alejandro!” The mocking voice thundered again, closer this time. “Come out and face me like a man! Or will you let the girl die screaming in your arms?”

My chest went cold. The girl. Me.

I realized, with a sick twist of fear, that Antonio wasn’t here just to fight Alejandro. He was here for me.

Alejandro snarled something under his breath in Spanish and ducked behind an overturned table. His shirt clung to him, damp with sweat and blood, but his eyes burned like fire. He looked more dangerous than I had ever seen him, a man consumed by rage and survival.

“Diego!” he barked into his earpiece, his tone sharp as a blade. “Get men to the east tower. Now!”

Static crackled, then a faint reply: “On it, jefe.”

My hands shook as I crawled toward him, my throat tight. “Alejandro—”

“Stay down, Isabella!” he snapped, his voice raw. “Do you want a bullet in your head?”

I froze, the sting of his words cutting deeper than the fear. But then his eyes flicked toward me—just for a moment—and I saw it. The panic he was hiding behind that brutal mask. He wasn’t angry at me. He was terrified for me.

The gunfire intensified, spraying wood and glass across the floor. I flinched as splinters sliced my arm, pain stinging sharp and hot.

Alejandro’s gaze snapped to me again when he saw the blood. His jaw clenched. “That’s it,” he growled, his voice dark with fury. “They’re not walking out of here alive.”

He rose in one smooth, lethal motion, firing shot after shot. His aim was deadly, his body moving like a predator in its element. But there were too many. Shadows kept climbing, kept breaking through the penthouse perimeter.

I pressed my shaking hands against my bleeding arm, my mind racing. I wasn’t a fighter. I didn’t have his strength, his weapons. But I had something else.

Technology.

My gaze darted to the coffee table where my laptop sat, miraculously untouched by the chaos. My heart hammered. If I could just get to it—if I could override the building’s systems, lock down the floors, trigger the alarms—maybe I could buy us time.

I crawled, my palms slipping on glass, every nerve screaming that I was insane. Bullets whizzed past, one embedding itself into the wall inches from my head. I bit down a cry and lunged for the laptop.

The familiar glow of the screen lit my face as I powered it up, my fingers trembling over the keys. My brain switched gears, focusing on the code, the networks I had already mapped out in Alejandro’s penthouse.

“Come on… come on…” I muttered under my breath, hacking into the security grid.

I barely noticed Alejandro moving closer, firing in tight bursts to cover me. “What the hell are you doing?” he shouted.

“Buying us time!” I snapped back, my voice cracking under the pressure.

For a second, I thought he’d drag me away, force me back to the ground. But instead, he gave me the space. He trusted me.

I worked fast, overriding the elevators, slamming down the building’s steel lockdown doors, sealing off entry points. Alarms wailed, a shrill, piercing sound that cut through the gunfire. The lights flickered, plunging parts of the penthouse into shadow.

It wasn’t perfect. They were still inside. But it slowed them down.

Alejandro’s voice thundered again, this time into his earpiece. “Diego! Lock the perimeter. No one gets out alive!”

The fight raged on. The penthouse was chaos—gunfire, smoke, alarms, shadows darting across the broken glass floor. My laptop hummed under my hands, code streaming faster than I could breathe.

Then I heard it.

A sound that didn’t belong.

A faint click, right behind me.

I froze, my fingers hovering over the keys. Slowly, I turned my head—and my stomach dropped.

A man in black stood there, his gun pressed cold and unyielding against my temple.

The gun pressed harder against my temple, cold and merciless. My breath caught in my throat, my fingers frozen above the keys. I didn’t even dare blink.

“Don’t move,” the man hissed, his voice low and cruel. His accent was thick, his grip steady. He wasn’t nervous. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Before I could even scream, Alejandro’s voice tore through the room like thunder.

“¡Suéltala!” he roared, his gun snapping toward the man. “Drop the weapon, or I’ll paint the walls with your blood.”

His tone was lethal, every syllable vibrating with barely restrained rage. But his eyes—they were locked on me, burning with something rawer than fury. Fear. Desperation.

The gunman smirked, pressing the barrel harder against my skin. My pulse pounded in my ears. One twitch of his finger, and it would all be over.

“Shoot me,” the man sneered, “and she dies first.”

Alejandro took one step forward. His movements were slow, calculated, like a predator closing in. His jaw was steel, his finger tight on the trigger. But I saw it in his eyes. He couldn’t risk it. One wrong move, and I was gone.

“Alejandro…” My voice cracked, tears burning my eyes. “Don’t—”

“Shh, mi cielo,” he whispered, softer now, his voice a promise. “I won’t let him touch you.”

But the man’s arm was iron around my throat, dragging me backward across the broken glass. My laptop slipped from the table, the screen cracking as it hit the floor. My one advantage, gone.

“Antonio wants her alive,” the man taunted, his voice echoing off the ruined penthouse walls. “But he never said she had to be unharmed.”

Alejandro’s jaw ticked. His gun followed every move, his entire body a coiled spring ready to strike. The room crackled with tension, the alarms still blaring in the background, smoke stinging my lungs.

I tried to think. Do something, Isabella. Don’t just stand here like a victim. My mind raced, desperate for an out. The glass underfoot crunched with every step he dragged me back, toward the broken window where the city lights of Madrid glowed like fireflies below.

And that’s when it hit me.

The shattered glass.

I forced myself to stumble, falling just enough that my free hand brushed against the floor. My fingers closed around a shard—jagged, sharp, biting into my palm. Pain seared through me, but I didn’t care.

The man was distracted, his attention fixed on Alejandro. His mistake.

With every ounce of strength I had, I jammed the shard backward into his arm.

He screamed, his grip loosening just enough for me to twist away. The gun slipped from my temple, his hold breaking. I gasped, stumbling forward, blood running down my hand.

And in that heartbeat of chaos, Alejandro moved.

A blur of black and fire, he lunged, his gun exploding in the dim light. The shot hit the man square in the chest. He dropped instantly, collapsing onto the broken glass, blood spreading in a dark pool.

For a moment, everything went still. My breaths came ragged, my hands shaking so violently I could barely hold myself up.

Alejandro was on me in seconds, his hands cupping my face, his eyes wild. “Dios mío, Isabella… are you hurt?” His gaze darted to my bleeding hand, his touch feather-light as he inspected me.

“I-I’m fine,” I whispered, though my voice trembled. “Just—my hand—”

Before I could say more, he pulled me into his chest, his arms crushing around me. For the first time since the gunfire began, I felt the quake of his heartbeat against mine. He wasn’t just furious. He was terrified.

But the reprieve lasted only a second.

Because then… the alarms shifted.

The building shook beneath us, a deep, thunderous rumble that wasn’t from gunfire.

Alejandro’s head snapped up, his expression hardening. He turned toward the broken window, his grip tightening protectively around me.

And that’s when we both saw it.

Through the city lights of Madrid, a convoy of black SUVs was speeding toward the tower. Dozens of them. Antonio wasn’t done. He was just getting started.

Alejandro’s curse was sharp, vicious. “He’s bringing the whole damn army.”

I clutched his shirt, my stomach dropping. “What do we do?”

He met my gaze, his eyes dark, fierce, and full of secrets I wasn’t ready to face.

“We run.”