Chapter 147
The sound of skin against skin echoed like a gunshot. A punch that came out of nowhere and landed hard. Alex stumbled back slightly but didn’t fall.
No one spoke. The silence was heavier than any scream could’ve been.
Alex’s jaw flexed, blood forming at the edge of his lip, but he didn’t retaliate.
Not yet. And me? I stood there. Still. Frozen in place.
The prize.
The problem.
You could feel the tension in the air. Every man in that room, from both sides, had their hands hovering near their weapons. No one moved, but they were ready. Waiting. For a word. A signal. Anything.
Something as simple as the word shoot and all hell would break loose.
But then Alex moved first.
He smiled…Actually smiled as he wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes flicking to the smear of blood there. A pinkish streak. It looked so small. So harmless.
“Good,” he said, almost too calmly. “That’s very good.’
He looked at Asher, calculated and unfazed.
“I know you’ve been fighting this. Holding it in for so long. That must feel good, huh?” His voice was steady, amused. “…. To finally let it out Feels good, doesn’t it?”
Asher didn’t answer. His body stayed tense, eyes locked on Alex like he was ready for another round.
“You know what I’m going to do?” Alex asked.
Silence again. Asher didn’t answer. Just stared.
“I guess I’ll just leave,” Alex said with a shrug.
And Asher nodded, tight, controlled nods. Like he was saying yes, finally, do it. Leave. You don’t belong here,
Alex turned… and I breathed.
For the first time in what felt like hours, I actually breathed. It was over. No more talk of marriage, no more twisted negotiations, no more threats. No one was going to die. No one was going to bleed out on the marble floor today.
It was over.
And then Alex spun back around and hit him. The punch landed hard. And then another. And another.
It wasn’t just a slap to settle a score. No, this was raw, personal. Rage in motion. He hit Asher like he’d been waiting years for this moment.
And Asher didn’t hesitate, he hit back. Then they were on the ground.
Fighting.
Fists slamming into flesh. Elbows, knees, grunts. Blood spattering. I couldn’t even tell who was winning, who was bleeding more. They were just a blur of movement. Violence. Rage. History.
It was brutal.
And the men…their men stood around like statues with weapons in their hands and no idea what to do. Guns were raised, then lowered again Confused looks passed between them.
Do we step in?
Do we shoot?
Do we kill?
But none of them moved. Because what were they supposed to do? Start shooting? At who? At their own boss? At the other? At both?
It was chaos with no instructions.
The noise was overwhelming, grunts, fists landing, curses, the sickening sound of bone colliding with bone.
But he was going to kill him. And I don’t know why but something inside me screamed no.
Because this was Alex, the Russian Mafia’s heir. His sister’s brother. The so-called mafia prince. And if Asher killed him right here, right now, there would be no stopping the consequences.
It would be war. No negotiations. No turning back
And I couldn’t let that happen. So I stepped in. I begged.
“Please,” I said, softer now. “Asher… let him go.
He didn’t move at first. He stayed there, breathing heavily, trembling, still pressing his arm into Alex’s throat.
But then finally, he let go..
And Alex collapsed to the side, coughing hard, gasping, dragging in the air like a man who’d just escaped drowning.
“Get the fuck out!” Asher barked, his voice echoing through the tense silence.
Alex staggered as he pushed himself to his feet. He wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and looked straight at Asher.
Their eyes locked, burning with rage, pride, and something deeper I couldn’t quite name. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. Everything they wanted to say was already written in their stares.
And then Asher snapped again.
“I said get the fuck out! And don’t you ever come back here.”
Alex gave a faint laugh, though he was still catching his breath. Blood glistened at the corner of his mouth. He tilted his head slightly, eyes never leaving Asher.
“I’m leaving,” he said, his voice rough but calm. But this…”
He pointed a bloodied finger toward Asher, then slowly swept it in my direction.
“…this is not done.”

Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Claimed By The Mafia Don (Ariella and Asher)