Lady Mafia: Venom & Affection

Chapter 3: Colliding Worlds

The Power Room: The Wolves' Den

"Here is the layout," Kyla stated, her voice cutting through the low hum of the servers. "We are nine in total—enough to cover every exit. The mansion has four primary points of entry. The main gate faces east, and there’s a concealed underground exit at the southern edge of the property, just outside the perimeter fence."

She traced a line on the digital map. "These are the choke points. The main entrance is heavily fortified, but the underground passage is likely their preferred escape route if things go south. It’s currently unguarded, but we aren't leaving that to chance."

"I suggest Autumn for the south, Boss," Bruce interjected. "The terrain there is thick woods. Her climbing and stealth are suited for that environment."

Kyla nodded. "You have your orders, Autumn."

"Copy that, Boss," Autumn replied, her usual laziness replaced by a sharp focus.

"Kelvin," Kyla continued, "you’ll take the sniper’s nest in that uncompleted tower a few hundred meters out. You are our eyes and our hammer."

Kelvin leaned back with a playful smirk. "Perfect. I prefer the view from above."

"Moonlight and Wizard, you’re the distraction at the western gate. Jade and Mica, you’ll hit the opposite side. Jayden, you’re our ghost in the machine—I want drone coverage and a hard hack into their CCTV. I want to see what they’re eating for dinner before we even kick the door."

Jayden winked at Mica, who responded with a weary roll of her eyes.

"Bruce and I will take the main entrance," Kyla concluded.

"Are we taking captives?" Jade asked, checking the action on her sidearm.

"That depends on how fast they talk," Kyla said, her eyes darkening. "The family might not know where 'The Mask' is hiding, but they’re the only lead we have. We move tomorrow night. You have twenty-four hours. No mistakes."

She slammed her fist onto the table, the sound echoing like a gunshot, before sweeping out of the room.

California: 9:00 AM

The golden Los Angeles sun was trying to peek through the curtains of Evans’ room, but it was the persistent shrill of his phone that finally dragged him from sleep.

"Damn it," he groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He tried to cling to the fragments of his dream—a beautiful, blurry woman standing across a street, smiling at him before a distant gunshot shattered the vision.

The phone rang again. He snatched it up without looking. "What?"

"Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling for an hour!" Jothan’s voice boomed in his ear.

Evans winced, rubbing his temple. "It’s early, Jothan. Go back to sleep."

"Early? It’s nine o'clock, you sucker! Don't tell me you're still in bed. You have a flight to catch!"

Evans bolted upright, his eyes darting to the wall clock. "s**t!"

"Yeah, 's**t' is right. Get moving, Evans."

"Thanks for the wake-up call, man. Talk later. Love you!" Evans scrambled out of bed.

"Tell that to your future girlfriend, i***t," Jothan laughed and hung up.

Evans’ POV

The streets of LA were a frantic mess of noise and heat as I hauled my gear toward the bus station. "Excuse me... sorry!" I muttered, dodging a crowd of tourists.

A woman screamed nearby, "Thief! He stole my pail!" I watched a teenager sprint past with a plastic bag, pursued by a couple of guys who clearly had nothing better to do. They tackled him, and the boy started pleading, saying he just wanted it for his girlfriend.

I checked my watch. A pail? People were strange. But I had bigger problems. I had thirty minutes to get to the terminal.

My name is Evans Marshal. I’m the son of a Mafia Lord, though 'son' is a generous term. To my stepmother and her family, I’m a ghost—a 'bastard' whose existence is an inconvenience. I’m twenty-three, an artist, and currently heading back to a place I’m supposed to call home: Ohio.

Marshal Mansion, Ohio: 2:30 PM

"Welcome back, young master," the guards at the gate muttered. I gave them a tight nod and a sigh.

As soon as I stepped inside, the peace was shattered. "Where the hell is my lemonade?" Juliet’s voice screeched from the living room.

"Coming, Ma'am!" a maid scurried past me.

Juliet turned, her eyes landing on me. A cold smirk pulled at her lips. "Well, look what the wind blew in. The prodigal bastard returns."

"Good afternoon, Juliet," I said, trying to keep my voice flat.

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to?" she snapped.

"Who is it, Juliet?" an older voice asked. It was Grannie Louis, Juliet's mother, stepping into the hall.

"It’s Evans," Juliet spat, taking a sip of her drink.

"I’m just going to my room," I said, turning for the stairs.

"This isn't your house, Evans," she hissed after me. "You’re nothing but a mistake. I don't know why George still claims you after that slut of a mother deceived him—"

I didn't stay to hear the rest. I shut my door and tried to breathe.

Nightfall

Dinner was an exercise in silent torture. Juliet and her mother watched me like hawks, their eyes filled with a decade's worth of resentment. My phone buzzed—a message from Jothan.

How’s the homecoming?

Stressful, I typed back. Step-mom looks like she wants to poison my soup. I’m not giving her the satisfaction of seeing me c***k.

I saw the grandmother clear her throat. "Table manners, Evans," she said with a forced, sugary sweetness.

"Right. Sorry." I put the phone away.

We ate in a heavy, suffocating silence until the first explosion rocked the house.

The windows rattled in their frames. Then came the rapid-fire pop-pop-pop of high-caliber rifles outside. A guard burst into the room, face pale, chest heaving. "Ma'am! We're under attack! We need to move now!"

"What? Who is it?" Juliet screamed, rising from her chair.

"No time! Take the passage!"

I felt my heart hammer against my ribs as the guard ushered us toward the hidden door. We were halfway to the underground route when the front doors didn't just open—they vanished in a cloud of splinters.

Men in black masks swarmed the foyer. In a heartbeat, our guards were on the floor. I tried to run, but a shadow moved faster than I could track. A fist collided with my jaw, and the world tilted.

I hit the floor, my vision blurring into a kaleidoscope of red and gray. I saw two men dragging Juliet and Grannie Louis back toward the living room.

"Get your hands off me!" Juliet shrieked, but her voice was cut short.

I groaned, trying to push myself up, but a heavy boot slammed into my stomach, stealing my breath. I curled into a ball, gasping as the sound of the chaos died down.

In the sudden, terrifying silence, the only thing I could hear was the steady, rhythmic click-clack of high heels approaching across the marble floor.