MY MYSTERIOUS MAFIA

CHAPTER 10 - THE ESCAPE

The floor beneath us trembled again, and the sound of alarms tore through the night like sirens of doom. I could still taste smoke in the air, my ears ringing from the gunfire. Alejandro’s arm was iron around me, dragging me toward the elevator, but his eyes never left the city skyline.

Those black SUVs—so many of them. Like shadows swallowing the streets, headlights cutting through the dark. Antonio wasn’t just sending men. He was declaring war.

My legs struggled to keep up, but Alejandro’s grip was unrelenting. His pace was fire, fast and sharp, each stride filled with fury. “We don’t have much time,” he muttered, his voice harsh but steady. “Antonio’s dogs will be here in minutes.”

I glanced over my shoulder. The dead man still lay sprawled across the glass, blood oozing beneath him. My stomach twisted violently, bile rising in my throat. I had stabbed someone. I had watched him die. The image seared itself into my brain, a nightmare I couldn’t blink away.

Alejandro noticed. He stopped, pulling me to face him. His hand cupped my cheek, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Listen to me, Isabella. You did what you had to. If you hadn’t, you’d be dead right now. Do you hear me?”

Tears blurred my vision. “But I—”

“No.” His tone was steel, leaving no space for doubt. “You are not weak. You are not guilty. You survived. And I swear to you, I won’t let anyone else lay a hand on you.”

For a moment, I believed him. His words, his eyes—they wrapped around me like a shield. But then the thunder of boots echoed from the stairwell, dragging me back into reality.

“Move!” he snapped, shoving me forward.

The elevator was useless—the alarms had cut the power. Instead, he yanked me toward the emergency exit. The stairwell was dark, concrete walls lit only by the flicker of red emergency lights. Every echo of our footsteps bounced like gunshots.

Down we ran. Floor after floor, my lungs burning, my injured hand throbbing with each pulse of blood. Alejandro kept one hand on my back, guiding me, shielding me, his other hand gripping his gun like it was part of him.

Halfway down, voices boomed from below. Spanish, fast and sharp, filled with menace. Antonio’s men were already inside.

My heart dropped. “We’re trapped!”

Alejandro’s lips curved into something cold, dangerous. “Not yet.”

Before I could ask what he meant, he kicked open a door that led into one of the building’s offices. Empty desks, shattered windows, papers scattered from the earlier chaos. He pulled me inside, shutting the door quietly behind us.

I gasped for air, clutching my chest. “What now?”

His gaze swept the room, sharp and calculating. Then he strode to the far side, to a massive glass window overlooking the city.

No.

My stomach twisted. “Alejandro… don’t tell me—”

He glanced back at me, his mask of the mafia king sliding fully into place. Calm. Ruthless. Unshakable. “It’s the only way.”

My eyes widened as I followed his gaze. The window opened onto nothing but air, and far below, the streets of Madrid glistened like rivers of fire. The height made me dizzy just looking at it.

“You’re insane,” I whispered, shaking my head. “We’ll die.”

“No.” He stepped closer, gripping my chin with his free hand, forcing me to look into his eyes. “Trust me, Isabella. Always trust me.”

My lips parted, my breath shaky. Did I? Could I? Every instinct screamed that this was madness, but something in his eyes—something raw and fierce—pulled me in.

Before I could answer, the sound of boots thundered just outside the office door. They were here.

Alejandro smashed the window with the butt of his gun. Shards exploded outward, crashing into the night. The icy wind of Madrid rushed in, whipping my hair into my face.

“Come,” he said, extending his hand to me. His voice was fire, unyielding. “With me, or with them. Choose.”

My chest heaved, my pulse screaming. Behind us, the door rattled violently. Men were shouting, guns ready.

I stared at his outstretched hand. At the darkness below. At the choice that could end everything.

And just as I reached for him—

The door burst open.

The glass hit the floor in a shower of sharp edges, and I swear my heart dropped with it. For a second, everything froze—like the world itself was holding its breath. Then chaos snapped back. Heavy boots, shadows moving, gunmetal glinting in the dim light.

My body reacted before my mind caught up. I grabbed Isabella’s wrist and pulled her back against me, shielding her with my own frame. Her breath was fast, panicked, but her body didn’t resist. Maybe she trusted me. Maybe she didn’t. But in that moment, there was no time for questions.

“Stay down,” I whispered, and my voice didn’t even sound like my own. It was too calm, too steady, like I’d swallowed the fear clawing at my ribs.

The first man stepped through the broken frame—black mask, silencer, precision in his movements. Trained. Not street rats. These were Antonio’s elites.

I fired once. He crumpled. No hesitation. No wasted bullet.

But for every one that fell, two more seemed to crawl from the shadows. They weren’t here to scare me. They were here to kill me. And Isabella… she was just collateral damage.

A part of me hated myself for bringing her into this. She wasn’t supposed to bleed because of me. She wasn’t supposed to see this side of me—the monster Madrid whispered about.

The shooting thundered louder, echoing against the concrete walls. I shoved Isabella down behind the couch, returning fire with precision. She clutched her knees, trembling, yet her wide eyes never left me. Not even when the blood sprayed, not even when my mask slipped slightly, revealing too much.

And then it happened.

One of Antonio’s men broke through my guard, lunging with a blade. His swing was fast, aimed for my throat. For a fraction of a second, my mind screamed too late.

But Isabella moved.

She grabbed the broken lamp from the floor and swung it with all her strength. The metal connected with his skull, and he dropped like a sack of stone. Her chest heaved, her hands shaking around the lamp, but her eyes—God help me—her eyes burned with fire.

I froze, staring at her. Not because she saved me. Not because she fought back. But because for the first time, I saw it—the darkness in her. The same fire that lived in me.

And that terrified me more than the bullets.

“Isabella…” my voice broke, rougher than I meant. But I didn’t have time to say more.

Because that’s when I heard his voice.

“Alejandro…”

Low. Mocking. Too familiar.

Antonio.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. Not himself. He sent men, soldiers, mercenaries—but never his own hands. Yet there he was, stepping through the broken frame like a king entering his palace. His silver hair gleamed under the dim light, his suit perfectly pressed, not a speck of dust on him. The devil himself, untouched by the fire he started.

He smiled. That same smile I had burned into my memory since childhood. The smile he wore the night my parents bled out in front of me.

“You hide behind masks,” he drawled, stepping closer, “but in the end, you’re still the little boy I left alive. A mistake, clearly. Tonight, I correct it.”

My blood boiled so hot I thought my veins might burst. I lifted my gun, aimed at his head without blinking.

“Not tonight.”

But he didn’t even flinch. He knew me too well. He knew I wanted him alive long enough to suffer. He used my rage against me.

His gaze shifted—to Isabella, crouched on the floor, still gripping the lamp like a weapon. His smile widened.

“Ah,” he said softly, almost amused. “So this is why you’ve been sloppy. A woman. Always a weakness.”

“Don’t you dare touch her,” I growled, my finger tightening on the trigger.

And then Antonio did something that made my heart seize.

He raised his hand. Snapped his fingers.

And two men dragged a third figure into the room—beaten, bloodied, half-conscious. My chest collapsed when I recognized him.

Diego.

My brother in all but blood. My shadow. My anchor.

His face was swollen, his body shaking, but his eyes found mine. Even half-dead, they carried a warning. Don’t give him what he wants.

Antonio’s smile turned cruel. “Choose, Alejandro. The woman who just tasted your darkness—or the brother who’s carried it with you.”

The room spun. My grip on the gun tightened until my knuckles burned. Isabella’s sharp intake of breath cut through me, but Diego’s broken body shredded what was left of my restraint.

Choose.

I couldn’t.

And yet—I had to.

The walls seemed to close in, the gun heavy in my hand, my heart slamming against my ribs.

Antonio stepped closer, his voice soft as poison.

“Tonight, you lose one.”