The Mafia's Broken Vows

A Pet With Secret

Tagline:

“He was told to stay silent. Instead, he made the whole table laugh.”*

Dominik’s phone buzzed, low and sharp against the tension of the dining room.

He glanced at the screen.

Encrypted.

Important.

He rose from his seat at the head of the table, his fingers grazing Misha’s nape before pulling away. “Don’t move. Don’t speak.”

Misha barely nodded.

Dominik’s boots echoed down the corridor as he stepped outside to take the call, his voice a whisper of steel as the door closed behind him.

The second he was gone, the air in the room shifted.

It was like the leash had been loosened.

And someone… dared to tug it.

“Hey, little princess,” a rough voice said from the opposite end of the table.

Misha glanced up sharply.

The man was tall, dressed in dark grey. Tattooed knuckles. A predator’s grin.

Dominik’s second-in-command.

Valentin Markov.

“Didn’t realize the Boss was keeping pets now,” Valentin drawled. “Though you’re not as pretty as I expected.”

Misha blinked, confused. “Excuse me?”

Valentin smirked. “You’re not handsome. Just... soft. Weak.”

Misha stared at him a moment. Then—he laughed.

A low, mocking, crystal-clear sound.

“You wish,” Misha said with a smirk. “Jealousy’s ugly, darling.”

From the hallway, Dominik paused mid-step.

He heard it.

The laugh.

Misha’s laugh.

Sharp. Witty. Alive.

Something about it made Dominik stop completely—just outside the doorway, hidden in shadow.

Back inside, Valentin raised a brow. “You think you’re better-looking than me?”

Misha didn’t miss a beat.

“At least I’m prettier than your boss,” he shot back, tossing a napkin onto the table like a prince in silk.

Valentin choked on his water.

The whole table burst into laughter.

“s**t!” one of the men snorted. “Boss Dominik’s got a wild one!”

“I like this one,” another said. “He’s got fire.”

“I vote we keep him,” someone else added with a grin.

Another guard elbowed Valentin. “He’s your karma. Boss finally has his hands full.”

Still in the hallway, Dominik rolled his eyes.

“He’s not prettier than me,” he muttered under his breath.

But a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

His little pet had just roasted his most feared enforcer in front of everyone.

Dominik should be furious.

But he wasn’t.

Inside the room, Valentin leaned forward, smirking through the laughter. “You really think Dominik wants someone like you?”

Misha leaned back slowly, crossed one leg over the other, and said, “Your boss wishes that was true.”

The room exploded.

Laughter. Applause. A few choked gasps.

Even the chef peeked through the doorway, clearly amused.

Outside, Dominik bit down a full laugh.

His chest shook.

This little creature—this fragile thing he was supposed to tame—was mocking his best friend, charming his soldiers, and turning Dominik’s cold house into a riot of heat.

He was supposed to control Misha.

He was supposed to break him.

Instead…

He couldn’t stop smiling.

But just as Dominik reached for the door to reenter—

His phone buzzed again.

He frowned.

NEW MESSAGE:

📸 Attachment received: “You’re losing your grip, King.”

Dominik opened it.

A live photo.

Taken from inside the dining room.

From a high angle.

From inside the walls.

Misha was being watched.

Not by him.

But by someone else.

Someone inside.

Someone who was closer than they thought.

Dominik’s smile vanished.

His blood turned cold.

Dominik stared at the photo again.

The image was grainy, shadowed—but the angle was impossible. It had been taken from above the chandelier in the dining room.

Someone was in the walls. Or the ceilings.

Watching.

Watching him. Watching Misha.

His fingers itched to crush the phone, but then… it buzzed again.

Another message.

One video file.

No caption. No threat. Just a single play button pulsing on the screen like a heartbeat.

Dominik’s eyes narrowed.

He tapped it.

And the world around him burned red.

It was the dungeon floor.

The day he’d punished Misha.

His little pet had been left there—naked, used, leaking. Dominik had walked out, ordering the guards not to touch him.

And yet—

The video showed a man entering the room. His face covered by a black mask, only his mouth visible. Sharp jawline. Soft lips.

Misha hadn’t noticed him at first.

But when he did, his body trembled—his thighs clenching, his arms too weak to shield himself.

The masked man knelt between Misha’s legs and—

Sucked him.

Fully. Hungrily. Obsessively.

Misha arched, gasping. His hands gripped the floor. His moans echoed across the cold stone walls.

His eyes fluttered.

His voice broke.

“D-Dominik—”

He thought it was Dominik.

He came hard, his entire body shaking under the masked stranger’s tongue.

And the man—after swallowing every drop—kissed the tip like it was a promise.

Then vanished into the dark.

Dominik’s heart stopped.

He could still hear the echo of Misha’s moan.

The shame. The betrayal. The fact that he had no idea this happened in his house. His territory. His damn property.

He didn’t know whether to scream or kill.

But he knew where he was going.

The dining room burst into silence as Dominik’s boots thundered toward them.

His men stood up instantly.

Valentin straightened, sensing the shift in energy.

Misha turned.

Too late.

Dominik’s hand shot forward—grabbing Misha’s wrist with enough force to snap it.

Misha gasped, stumbling from his seat. “W-what are you—”

Dominik’s face was a storm of rage.

His eyes didn’t blink.

His grip didn’t loosen.

“Get up,” Dominik growled. “Now.”

“Boss—” Valentin began.

“Sit. The. f**k. Down.”

No one moved.

Dominik didn’t wait for obedience. He yanked Misha forward so violently the boy’s chair crashed backward.

Everyone watched.

Frozen.

Dominik’s voice was ice. But his grip was fire.

“I told you not to speak to anyone. And this… this is how you repay me?”

Misha whimpered, “I-I didn’t—what did I do?!”

Dominik leaned in close, lips brushing Misha’s ear.

“You let him touch you.”

Misha’s heart dropped. “What?”

Dominik’s hand tightened even more, his knuckles whitening.

“He sucked you. You came for him. You moaned my name for him.”

Misha’s knees buckled.

“Dominik, I didn’t know—I thought it was—”

“Me?” His laugh was hollow. “You don’t even know the difference between your master and a stranger anymore?”

“I couldn’t see—please—I didn’t know—!”

The tension in the room was unbearable.

Dominik pulled him forward again, dragging him by the wrist like a broken doll. “You’ll remember. I’ll make you.”

They disappeared into the hallway, Misha’s heels skidding against the floor.

Everyone remained silent.

No one dared follow.

Except Valentin—who looked down at the table, then up at the vent high on the wall.

A slow, crawling realization forming in his gut.

In the shadows… someone was watching.

Recording.

Waiting.

The masked man licked his lips behind the camera.

He whispered, soft and sweet:

“Round two.”

Dominik’s fury burned hotter than blood.

He slammed the door behind them as they entered his private quarters, the echo thunderous.

Misha flinched.

Dominik didn’t speak. Not yet.

He just tossed the phone across the table—it skidded to a stop in front of Misha.

“Play it,” Dominik said darkly.

Misha stared at the screen.

The video.

That video.

“I already saw it—”

“Play. It. Again.”

With shaking fingers, Misha tapped the screen. The footage came to life.

His own body—stripped, spent, humiliated on the dungeon floor.

And then the stranger entered.

That mouth.

That masked face.

Sucking him.

Owning him.

And Misha… he moaned. He called Dominik’s name.

Tears stung his eyes.

“I thought it was you,” he whispered.

Dominik’s jaw tightened.

“I didn’t see his face. I couldn’t move. I—I thought you came back—”

“And so you just opened your legs?” Dominik’s voice was deadly calm. “You let a stranger taste what’s mine because your eyes were closed?”

Misha’s breath caught. “You left me like that! You told them not to touch me. I thought—” His voice cracked. “I thought it was over. Then he came in, and I—I didn’t know—”

Dominik moved fast.

Too fast.

He grabbed Misha by the collar and yanked him up, shoving him back against the wall. “You think I give a damn what you thought? You think I care about your excuses? He put his mouth on you.”

Misha blinked up at him, breathless.

Dominik leaned in, snarling against his cheek. “And you let him. You let him suck you like a w***e. And you came like one.”

A tear rolled down Misha’s cheek.

Dominik’s voice dropped, quieter now. “You moaned my name… for someone else. Tell me, pet—should I be jealous, or just furious?”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“You did it.” His hand slammed the wall beside Misha’s head. “That’s what matters.”

He pulled away, shaking with something deeper than rage—possession. Violation. Fear.

Not for Misha’s safety.

For his own pride.

Dominik turned his back, running a hand through his hair. His voice came out hoarse. “Someone touched you. In my dungeon. On my floor. Under my command. And I wasn’t even there to stop it.”

He laughed—cold, bitter. “Tell me, Misha… how exactly do I punish you for that?”