His Mafia Throne

Chapter 12

Aurora

3:27 AM. The wind howled through the abandoned buildings in the north of the city. The place was dirty, silent, forgotten by time. Exactly the kind of place where Max found peace — and settled his scores.

I sat in the car, hand gripping the pistol at my waist. Max was next to me, silent. His shoulders tense, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the old warehouse ahead. The wound still tortured him — I could see it in the way he breathed, short and sharp — but he didn’t say a word.

Max never complained. Max acted.

“He’s alone,” he told me without looking my way. “The bodyguard left with the delivery truck. We have eighteen minutes.”

“What do you need me to do?”

He turned his gaze toward me. In the darkness of the car, his eyes burned like coals.

“I want you to be my eyes. If anyone shows up, you shoot. No hesitation. No thinking. You shoot.”

I nodded. I didn’t tremble. I wasn’t the girl who used to run from shadows. Not after what I’d seen. Not after watching him bleed out.

Max stepped out of the car with calculated precision. I followed in silence. We stepped over shards of glass, rusty steps, and rotted wood. The side entrance had already been forced open, just like our inside contact promised.

Inside, the air smelled of dust, metal, and fear.

---

I saw him first. Sitting at a desk, smoking. He wasn’t expecting anyone. He didn’t know that death had just walked in — quietly, slowly — and it wore Max’s face.

Max walked straight toward him. I stayed back, covering his flank.

“Bad night to betray me,” Max said, his voice calm but laced with venom.

The man jumped to his feet. He recognized the voice. He tried to run, but Max shot him in the knee without hesitation. A sharp scream echoed through the warehouse.

“I said I want you alive, not whole,” Max muttered, stepping closer.

He shoved the man into a chair and pressed the gun beneath his chin.

“Who gave the order?”

“I… I don’t know, Max. I swear! It was just a message. An envelope. Money. That’s it! I only…”

Max struck him with the butt of the gun. Blood burst from his mouth, mixed with teeth.

“Think carefully,” he said coldly. “If you stay silent, I take a finger. If you lie, I take another. And so on.”

I watched the scene without blinking. This man had betrayed us. Sold us out. He almost got Max killed. I felt no mercy. I didn’t even remember what mercy looked like.

Neither did Max.

---

After eight minutes, he began to talk.

Names. The people involved. The channel through which the information was passed. Everything.

Max listened.

Then he shot him in the heart. Simple. Clean.

“I didn’t kill him for what he said,” Max told me as we walked out. “I killed him for being stupid enough to think betrayal came without a price.”

We left the warehouse with calm steps. We didn’t look back. That was just the first name crossed off the list.

But it wouldn’t be the last.

Because the war was only just beginning.