Forbidden Claim: A Mafia King’s Obsession

Chapter 34: Undeniably cruel

Nadia’s POV

A sizzling chill runs down my spine at Lorenzo’s words. What exactly does that mean? I try to speak but my body is trembling so badly I can barely put the words together.

“You have to understand the price of betrayal, Nadia,” he says, turning the engine off. The sudden silence in car becomes deafening. “You cry for the maid. Let’s see if your heart bleeds for the snakes who pull the strings.”

He steps out of the car, walks around to my side and yanks the door open. Before I can protest, he drags me out, his iron grip pulling me up the stone stairs of the Lucchese mansion. The front door is already unlocked — or rather, the lock has been cleanly bypassed. We walk into the grand foyer. It is beautifully decorated, but the silence inside is terrifying.

“Lorenzo, please,” I beg, tears finally spilling over my eyelashes. “Let me go back to the car. I don’t want to see this. I beg you.”

“Look,” he hisses, forcing my chin up as we enter the main living room.

There, tied to high-backed dining chairs are five people. A man in his fifties, a woman of similar age, and three younger adults, all gagged and bruised. Their eyes widen in pure, undiluted terror the moment Lorenzo walks in.

“Meet the Luccheses,” Lorenzo says, a hint of mockery obvious in his tone, as if he is introducing me to associates in a gala. “They have been living comfortable lives off the blood of my people. And tonight, they pay their taxes.”

What follows is a nightmare captured in slow motion.

Lorenzo doesn’t hesitate. He pulls a silencer pistol from beneath his coat. I try to close my eyes, try to look away, but he grabs the back of my hair, forcing me to watch.

“If you close your eyes, Nadia, I’ll make their deaths more painful than I intend to,” he whispers in my ear.

A muffled scream rose from the elder as Lorenzo steps forward.

Thwip.

The sound of the gunshot is incredible quite, but the impact is devastating. The older man’s head snaps back, a dark red circle blooming perfectly in the center of his forehead.

“No! Oh my god, no!” I scream, my knees buckling. Lorenzo catches me by my waist, holding me upright, forcing me to bear witness to the butchery.

Thwip. Thwip. Thwip.

The older woman and two of the young men slumps forward, their life force pooling onto the white rug beneath them. Lorenzo doesn’t blink. He doesn’t curse. His movements are practiced, cold, and entirely clinical.

The remaining young woman, who is around the same age as me is sobbing through her gag, shaking her head in a desperate plea for her life.

“Lorenzo, stop! Please, stop this! They can’t hurt you anymore! They are defeated!” I scream, pulling at his coat, my fingers slick with my own tears.

“They are Luccheses, Nadia,” he says, aiming the weapon at the crying girl. “They will always find a way to revolt if I leave them alive.”

Thwip.

The girl goes limp. The silence in the room returns heavily, weighed down by the smell of raw copper and the sudden absence of five human lives. I fall to my knees, vomiting empty bile onto the floor, my body shaking so violently I cannot draw air. Lorenzo stands over them, his face an emotionless mask as he slowly reloads his clip.

“We are not done,” he says, gripping my shoulder and pulling me to my feet.

“There’s more?” I gasp, my voice cracking, my throat raw from screaming. “Lorenzo, please… no more. I can’t. My heart… I can’t take this.”

He ignores my pleas, dragging me down a long, carpeted hallway toward the back of the house. We reach a set of double doors. He kicks them open.

It is a playroom.

“Well… well, what do we have here?” Lorenzo says, a cruel smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “What do you think, Nadia?”

Brightly colored toys are scattered across the floor, huddled together on a small bed are two children — a boy of about six years, and a girl who looks way younger than four. They are clutching each other, their eyes wide with the terror that no child should ever have to comprehend. They heard the muffled sounds. They know the boogeyman has arrived.

“No!” I throw myself in front of him, my left hand gripping the hand which held the gun tightly, my right hand wrapped around his waist, using my entire body as a shield between his weapon and the children. “No, Lorenzo! You can as well kill me before you kill them! They are babies! They don’t know anything about shipments, or routing numbers or mafias! They are innocent!”

“They carry the blood of the Luccheses, Nadia,” he growls, trying to shove me away, but I cling to him with the strength of a possessed woman.

“They are children!” I sob, burying my face in his chest, feeling the hard beat of his heart. “Please, Lorenzo. If you have any ounce of humanity left in you, spare them. I’ll do anything, I swear! I will never speak back at you again. I’ll give you my body if you want it. I’ll be the perfect wife. I’ll never try to run. Just please, let them live. Don’t do this. Please.”

I look up at him, my face soaked in tears, my eyes begging for a miracle.

Lorenzo stares down at me. For the first time since I met him, his eyes doesn’t look like cold stones. Something flickers deep within them — a brief, agonizing struggle. His chest rises and falls in heavy, ragged breaths.

Slowly, he shoves the gun back into his coat.

“Viktor,” Lorenzo calls out into the hallway.

Viktor appears in the doorway a second later, his expression grim. “Yes, boss.”

“Take the children. Put them in an orphanage under false names. Deep in the country, and make sure they are well taken care of. If anyone finds out who they are, it’s your head.”

“Understood, Boss,” Viktor says, stepping forward to gently gather the terrified children.

I collapse against Lorenzo, my forehead resting against his chest, gasping in sheer relief. He listened to me. The monster had shown mercy.