Signed To The Mafia King - Chapter 55: Chapter 55
You are reading Signed To The Mafia King, Chapter 55: Chapter 55. Read more chapters of Signed To The Mafia King.
ALINA
Blood was still dripping from the ax when I let it fall.
It hit the floor with a thud, but I barely heard it over Riot’s ragged, pain-filled breaths.
His face twisted in agony, sweat popping out on his forehead as he held the ruined stump of his arm.
His breath came out in sharp, broken gasps. Blood pooled at his side, dark and thick against the floor.
He shook, but I didn’t know if it was from the pain or the rage in his eyes.
I stared down at him, feeling nothing. No pity. No regret. Just the hum of anger under my skin.
The loss of his hand was enough to remind him for all the days of his miserable life that hitting a woman was wrong, though I didn't believe he would learn.
“You used that hand to hit a woman,” I said quietly. “Now you don’t have it for anything else. You despicable man.” I spat at him.
Riot’s nostrils flared, his teeth bared in a snarl as more blood poured from his hand.
I tilted my head, watching him carefully. “If you ever lay a hand on Valerie again, I’ll take something else. And I promise, you won’t survive that one.”
His eyes burned into mine, but he didn’t speak. Maybe he knew better. Maybe the pain was too much.
Either way, I didn’t care.
I turned and walked out, ignoring the blood staining my feet.
I barely made it two steps before Luca’s hand caught my wrist.
“Alina.” He said. He didn't sound angry. He also didn't sound happy, but he was watching me like I was a stranger he didn't know how to react to.
I was too numb to think what that meant.
Then he pulled me with him, his grip firm, unrelenting. I let him drag me down the hall, too hot, too light headed to argue.
We moved past the others. Past Mikhail, who didn’t say a word, and Pietro, who was now holding the bloodstained ax.
I didn’t look at them. I didn’t look at anyone.
Luca didn’t stop until we reached a quieter part of the club, away from the noise and the blood. He pushed me down into a chair in a dark room.
“Sit.”
I blinked up at him, my pulse hammering in my skull.
Everything felt off. It sounded too loud in my head, though I didn't know where that noise was coming from.
My hands were shaking when I lifted them to my face. My skin burned under my own touch.
Luca disappeared for a moment, then came back with a glass. He shoved it into my hand. “Drink.”
I pushed it away. I could already smell the whiskey. “I don’t drink.”
His jaw ticked. “Drink, Alina. You look like you’re about to go into shock.”
I looked up at him though my eyes were blurry and hot. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
I pressed my fingers against my temple. My head pounded, my breath coming too fast.
Luca sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. Then he crouched in front of me, took the glass, and pressed it to my lips.
“Drink,” he said again, this time softer, like he cared.
The sharp burn of whiskey hit my tongue before I could stop it. I choked, coughing as the heat tore down my throat.
A memory from the past hit me fast.
The first time I drank whiskey in his study. It had been months ago, but it felt like another life.
I’d been stubborn then too, to tell him I'd never drank it. He’d watched me with that same unreadable expression, pushing the glass into my hands the same way.
I swallowed hard, my throat still burning. The heat spread through me, dulling the edges of my thoughts, giving me something else to focus on.
Luca watched me closely, eyes dark.
I leaned back in the chair, bending my head back so I could look at the ceiling. Why did I even want to look at the ceiling?
My heartbeat felt too loud, pounding in my ears.
I should have regretted what I’d done.
I should have felt something after cutting a man's wrist off.
But I didn’t.
Even knowing I might have just put my men in danger, I couldn’t bring myself to care right then.
The bastard shot at me. He shot at a child. He could have killed Ethan or Valerie.
And I still let him live. He ought to be grateful for that.
Luca watched me like I was a wild animal. Then he reached for me again, holding my chin between his fingers and tilting my face toward him.
His eyes burned into mine. “Did that feel good?”
I ran my tongue over my teeth, trying to find an answer, but the words wouldn’t come. Did cutting off Riot's wrist feel good? Maybe not, but I certainly wasn't feeling too bad.
Luca’s fingers still gripped my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Did that feel good?” he asked again.
I swallowed. “I don’t know what I feel.”
His eyes stayed on me, sharp and searching for the truth. “Was that the first time?”
I knew what he meant, but I hesitated before answering. “Yes,” I said finally.
Luca’s lips pressed together for a second like he already knew. Then he leaned back, nodding slightly. “I could see it on your face.”
I frowned. “See what?”
“That first-time bloodlust.”
I stiffened.
“I didn’t feel it,” I said sharply.
Luca laughed under his breath. “But you wanted to kill him, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” I admitted, my voice flat. “But not because I liked it. I wanted to kill him because he is human scum. He doesn’t deserve to live.”
Luca watched me for a second longer, then let go of my chin.
I pushed against the arms of the chair to stand, but he stopped me, hands firm on my shoulders.
“I need to check on Ethan,” I said, annoyed. “And make sure Valerie and Maya are fine.”
Luca didn’t move. “And what about you?”
I scoffed. “I’m fine.”
His jaw ticked like he wanted to argue, but then he pushed me down again and walked away. “Stay here. I’ll deal with Ethan and Valerie.”
I wanted to protest, but my body felt heavy, the rush from earlier draining out of me fast. Before I could say anything, Luca was disappearing into the hallway.
I sat back, closing my eyes.
I let my mind go blank, just for a minute.
Everything had happened too fast. Riot’s screams still echoed in my head, but I felt…nothing.
No guilt, no regret. Just a strange kind of exhaustion settling into my bones.
I didn’t know how long I sat there before Luca’s voice pulled me back.
“Alina.”
I blinked up at him.
“Valerie wants to go home,” he said. “She needs to pick up her son.”
I pushed myself upright. “I’ll go with her.”
“No.” Luca’s voice was firm. “You’re staying here. Mikhail will go with her.”
I didn’t like it, but I nodded. It was better than her going there alone. “Fine. But I need her to come back here. I need to talk to her.”
Luca left to send Mikhail after her, and I stayed where I was, rubbing my temples. My body still felt off, but the drink had helped a bit, though, I didn’t like the feeling.
Thirty minutes passed, then my phone rang. I grabbed it, pressing it to my ear. “Yeah?”
Mikhail’s voice came through, tight. “Boss?”
Something in his tone made my spine snap straight. I jumped from my chair. “What?”
I could hear Valerie crying in the background. What had happened now?
Mikhail grunted, sounding worried. “The boy’s missing.”
The blood in my veins turned to ice.
“The house is empty,” he continued. “Completely empty. Even the staff are gone.”
My fingers tightened around the phone. “Gone?”
“Gone,” Mikhail repeated. “Like they packed up and left.”
Valerie’s sobs became louder in the background, broken and panicked.
I was getting angrier as I listened to Mikhail.
I stood, heading out of the room. I needed to find Luca. “Bring her back to the club. Now.”
I hung up.
Where the hell was the boy? And who the hell took him if Riot was still in the club and hadn't told anyone to take his son?
Blood was still dripping from the ax when I let it fall.
It hit the floor with a thud, but I barely heard it over Riot’s ragged, pain-filled breaths.
His face twisted in agony, sweat popping out on his forehead as he held the ruined stump of his arm.
His breath came out in sharp, broken gasps. Blood pooled at his side, dark and thick against the floor.
He shook, but I didn’t know if it was from the pain or the rage in his eyes.
I stared down at him, feeling nothing. No pity. No regret. Just the hum of anger under my skin.
The loss of his hand was enough to remind him for all the days of his miserable life that hitting a woman was wrong, though I didn't believe he would learn.
“You used that hand to hit a woman,” I said quietly. “Now you don’t have it for anything else. You despicable man.” I spat at him.
Riot’s nostrils flared, his teeth bared in a snarl as more blood poured from his hand.
I tilted my head, watching him carefully. “If you ever lay a hand on Valerie again, I’ll take something else. And I promise, you won’t survive that one.”
His eyes burned into mine, but he didn’t speak. Maybe he knew better. Maybe the pain was too much.
Either way, I didn’t care.
I turned and walked out, ignoring the blood staining my feet.
I barely made it two steps before Luca’s hand caught my wrist.
“Alina.” He said. He didn't sound angry. He also didn't sound happy, but he was watching me like I was a stranger he didn't know how to react to.
I was too numb to think what that meant.
Then he pulled me with him, his grip firm, unrelenting. I let him drag me down the hall, too hot, too light headed to argue.
We moved past the others. Past Mikhail, who didn’t say a word, and Pietro, who was now holding the bloodstained ax.
I didn’t look at them. I didn’t look at anyone.
Luca didn’t stop until we reached a quieter part of the club, away from the noise and the blood. He pushed me down into a chair in a dark room.
“Sit.”
I blinked up at him, my pulse hammering in my skull.
Everything felt off. It sounded too loud in my head, though I didn't know where that noise was coming from.
My hands were shaking when I lifted them to my face. My skin burned under my own touch.
Luca disappeared for a moment, then came back with a glass. He shoved it into my hand. “Drink.”
I pushed it away. I could already smell the whiskey. “I don’t drink.”
His jaw ticked. “Drink, Alina. You look like you’re about to go into shock.”
I looked up at him though my eyes were blurry and hot. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
I pressed my fingers against my temple. My head pounded, my breath coming too fast.
Luca sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. Then he crouched in front of me, took the glass, and pressed it to my lips.
“Drink,” he said again, this time softer, like he cared.
The sharp burn of whiskey hit my tongue before I could stop it. I choked, coughing as the heat tore down my throat.
A memory from the past hit me fast.
The first time I drank whiskey in his study. It had been months ago, but it felt like another life.
I’d been stubborn then too, to tell him I'd never drank it. He’d watched me with that same unreadable expression, pushing the glass into my hands the same way.
I swallowed hard, my throat still burning. The heat spread through me, dulling the edges of my thoughts, giving me something else to focus on.
Luca watched me closely, eyes dark.
I leaned back in the chair, bending my head back so I could look at the ceiling. Why did I even want to look at the ceiling?
My heartbeat felt too loud, pounding in my ears.
I should have regretted what I’d done.
I should have felt something after cutting a man's wrist off.
But I didn’t.
Even knowing I might have just put my men in danger, I couldn’t bring myself to care right then.
The bastard shot at me. He shot at a child. He could have killed Ethan or Valerie.
And I still let him live. He ought to be grateful for that.
Luca watched me like I was a wild animal. Then he reached for me again, holding my chin between his fingers and tilting my face toward him.
His eyes burned into mine. “Did that feel good?”
I ran my tongue over my teeth, trying to find an answer, but the words wouldn’t come. Did cutting off Riot's wrist feel good? Maybe not, but I certainly wasn't feeling too bad.
Luca’s fingers still gripped my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Did that feel good?” he asked again.
I swallowed. “I don’t know what I feel.”
His eyes stayed on me, sharp and searching for the truth. “Was that the first time?”
I knew what he meant, but I hesitated before answering. “Yes,” I said finally.
Luca’s lips pressed together for a second like he already knew. Then he leaned back, nodding slightly. “I could see it on your face.”
I frowned. “See what?”
“That first-time bloodlust.”
I stiffened.
“I didn’t feel it,” I said sharply.
Luca laughed under his breath. “But you wanted to kill him, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” I admitted, my voice flat. “But not because I liked it. I wanted to kill him because he is human scum. He doesn’t deserve to live.”
Luca watched me for a second longer, then let go of my chin.
I pushed against the arms of the chair to stand, but he stopped me, hands firm on my shoulders.
“I need to check on Ethan,” I said, annoyed. “And make sure Valerie and Maya are fine.”
Luca didn’t move. “And what about you?”
I scoffed. “I’m fine.”
His jaw ticked like he wanted to argue, but then he pushed me down again and walked away. “Stay here. I’ll deal with Ethan and Valerie.”
I wanted to protest, but my body felt heavy, the rush from earlier draining out of me fast. Before I could say anything, Luca was disappearing into the hallway.
I sat back, closing my eyes.
I let my mind go blank, just for a minute.
Everything had happened too fast. Riot’s screams still echoed in my head, but I felt…nothing.
No guilt, no regret. Just a strange kind of exhaustion settling into my bones.
I didn’t know how long I sat there before Luca’s voice pulled me back.
“Alina.”
I blinked up at him.
“Valerie wants to go home,” he said. “She needs to pick up her son.”
I pushed myself upright. “I’ll go with her.”
“No.” Luca’s voice was firm. “You’re staying here. Mikhail will go with her.”
I didn’t like it, but I nodded. It was better than her going there alone. “Fine. But I need her to come back here. I need to talk to her.”
Luca left to send Mikhail after her, and I stayed where I was, rubbing my temples. My body still felt off, but the drink had helped a bit, though, I didn’t like the feeling.
Thirty minutes passed, then my phone rang. I grabbed it, pressing it to my ear. “Yeah?”
Mikhail’s voice came through, tight. “Boss?”
Something in his tone made my spine snap straight. I jumped from my chair. “What?”
I could hear Valerie crying in the background. What had happened now?
Mikhail grunted, sounding worried. “The boy’s missing.”
The blood in my veins turned to ice.
“The house is empty,” he continued. “Completely empty. Even the staff are gone.”
My fingers tightened around the phone. “Gone?”
“Gone,” Mikhail repeated. “Like they packed up and left.”
Valerie’s sobs became louder in the background, broken and panicked.
I was getting angrier as I listened to Mikhail.
I stood, heading out of the room. I needed to find Luca. “Bring her back to the club. Now.”
I hung up.
Where the hell was the boy? And who the hell took him if Riot was still in the club and hadn't told anyone to take his son?
End of Signed To The Mafia King Chapter 55. Continue reading Chapter 56 or return to Signed To The Mafia King book page.