Entangled with the Mafia Don novel Chapter 52

Ezra's POV:

The searing pain on my cheek was nothing compared to the gaping wound Davina had torn open in my chest. Criminal. The word echoed, burning, twisting every attempt I had made, every sacrifice, into something vile. She hated me. She wanted to be free of me, and the world I moved in. And in my rage, I had pushed her further away, forced her hand, made her loathe me even more. The taste of her furious kiss still lingered, a bitter, tantalizing ghost, mockingly juxtaposed with the fresh sting of her slap.

My hand dropped from my face. Anger, raw and consuming, coiled in my gut, needing an outlet. This volatile emotion, compounded by the simmering tension with my father and the looming Sokolov threat, had nowhere to go. My focus sharpened, narrowing on the most immediate, tangible problem. There had been reports from my men, whispers of a low-level crew trying to skim from one of my protection rackets, or worse, trying to leverage information they'd overheard about the recent De Luca-Sokolov disruption. Petty, usually. But tonight, it felt like a direct affront, a manifestation of the chaos she believed I created.

"Andrea!" I barked into my comms, my voice guttural. "Get that informant, Niko, to the auxiliary interrogation room. The one on the basement. I want him there in five minutes."

There was no negotiation, no subtlety. Just raw command. I needed to remind myself, and anyone who dared to challenge me, of exactly who I was, of the control I wielded, the control I had so thoroughly lost with Davina.

I stormed out of my office, ignoring Roy who stood stiffly by, his eyes darting to my red cheek. I took the stairs, my mind already detached, focusing on the problem at hand, on the cleansing brutality of regaining control.

The auxiliary room was rarely used, soundproofed and equipped for… direct persuasion. Niko, a sniveling mid-tier dealer who thought he was clever, was already there, tied to a chair, fear wide in his eyes. Two of my men stood silently.

"Out," I commanded, waving them away. I wanted this personal.

Niko whimpered as they left, his eyes fixed on me. "Ezra, boss, I swear, I don't know anything! It's just a rumor, a misunderstanding!"

I ignored him, picking up a length of coiled rope that lay on a nearby table. My mind was a maelstrom of thoughts – Davina's accusations, her hatred, the burning shame on my cheek – all twisting into a cold, focused fury that found its target in Niko's trembling form. This was about order. About consequences. About the unforgiving nature of my world, a world she despised but was inextricably linked to.

I moved with a brutal efficiency, each strike, each precise pressure point, designed to inflict pain, to loosen tongues, not to kill. Not usually. But tonight, there was a wild, untamed edge to my movements, a deeper well of anger driving me. "Who put you up to it, Niko?" I ground out, my voice a low snarl, tugging on the rope around his neck, applying just enough pressure to restrict his breath, to make his face purple. "Who are you talking to?"

Niko gasped, eyes bulging. "No one, boss! Just… just a little extra, I swear! Didn't mean no disrespect!"

I leaned closer, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, my mind fixated on Davina's words. "Disrespect? You think this is disrespect, Niko? You think you know what disrespect is?" I pulled harder, the rope biting into his flesh, my control frayed by the echoes of Davina's contempt, her rejection, her slap. "You think you can just take what's mine? Talk about my business?" My vision narrowed, consumed by the need for compliance, for power, for something to obey me when Davina wouldn't. I pulled harder, the rope biting deep into his flesh. Niko's struggles weakened, his face darkening further. A low, desperate gurgle escaped his throat.

Then, with a final, desperate twitch, Niko's body went limp. His eyes rolled back, a last, rattling gasp leaving his lips.

The rope went slack in my hand. He was dead.

A cold, dawning realization spread through me, chilling me to the bone. I hadn't meant to go that far. Not with him. My anger, my distraction, my desperate need to assert control, had pushed me over the edge.

As I stood there, the rope still dangling from my fingers, the metallic tang of fear and stale air in the room, a soft gasp escaped from behind me. A sharp, almost inaudible sound that nonetheless slammed into my consciousness like a physical blow.

My head snapped around. Standing just inside the doorway, her hand clapped over her mouth, was Davina.

Her eyes, wide with an unfathomable horror, were fixed not on me, but on Niko, whose lifeless body slumped in the chair. Her mouth hung open, a silent scream frozen on her lips. Her lips trembled. The vibrant color drained from her face, leaving it ashen, stark white against the dim lighting of the room. The sight of her, the sheer, utter terror in her eyes, struck me like a thousand shards of ice. My stomach clenched, bile rising in my throat. This. This was not how it was supposed to happen. She was not supposed to see this.

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