Entangled with the Mafia Don novel Chapter 61

Davina's POV:

The blue Fiat screeched to a stop a block from my mother’s house. My lungs burned as I sprinted down the familiar street, Ezra’s stolen white shirt billowing around me. The heavy, cold reality of the gun was pressed against my lower back, a desperate, terrifying weight.

I slammed the front door open, the wood shuddering on its frame. "Lexi!" I screamed, my eyes darting wildly. The house was quiet, too quiet. "Lexi, where are you?"

I found her in the living room, huddled on the sofa. But she wasn't alone. Dexter stood over her, his eyes manic, dangerous. Lexi was rocking slightly, tears silently tracking through the dust and terror on her face, clutching her arm. The dark, ugly marks on her skin weren't bruises from a simple push—they were vicious bite marks, deep, violating symbols of his hatred.

"Dexter, you sick bastard!" The words were a raw, protective roar.

He snapped his head up. Before he could fully process my presence, I had yanked the gun from my waistband. The cold metal was heavy, shaking violently in my hand as I pointed it unsteadily at his chest.

"Get away from her! Get away from my sister!"

Dexter actually laughed—a nasty, mocking sound. "Oh, look at the big girl, playing gangster! Did your new sugar daddy give you toys?"

He took a step toward me, mocking my unstable aim. I pulled the hammer back with a trembling thumb, the loud, metallic click echoing in the room, sharp and terrifying.

That sound stopped him cold. His bravado fractured.

"Give me the gun, Davina," he hissed, his eyes wide and calculating.

"I said, get away from her!"

His desperation outweighed his fear of the weapon. In a sickening, brutal move, he grabbed Lexi, who was paralyzed with terror, and shoved her hard off the sofa. She hit the hardwood floor, whimpering. He didn't stop. He raised his heavy leather boot and brought it down with savage force, kicking her hard in the lower abdomen.

Lexi screamed—a high, piercing sound of pure, maternal agony that tore through my soul. The baby. The baby.

"Stop! Stop it, Dexter, please!" I shrieked. My gun hand dropped instantly. Saving the baby, saving Lexi, was the only thing that mattered.

"The gun! Drop it now, or I swear I'll kick her until that thing spills out onto the floor!"

I didn't hesitate a second longer. I let the weapon fall. It hit the thick rug with a soft thud.

Dexter immediately snatched it up, his face lighting up with triumphant hatred. He walked over to me, leaving Lexi gasping and sobbing on the floor.

"That's more like it, bitch," he sneered.

The first strike was an open-handed slap that felt like a flash of lightning across my face. The second was a clenched fist to my jaw that sent me reeling backward. I stumbled, hitting the wall. Before I could recover, he was on me, his weight pinning me to the floor.

He ripped at the buttons of Ezra's shirt, the fabric tearing easily. His breath was hot and rancid, his face twisted with the same violation he’d attempted long ago, but amplified by his desperation and rage.

I fought him with everything I had left. I bucked wildly, clawing at his face, my nails tearing streaks down his cheek. I kneed him hard, scrambling to find leverage. My previous strength, the one that had broken his nose, was gone, replaced by raw, desperate terror. He was too heavy, too crazed. He pinned my arms above my head, his legs locking mine down.

"You like the powerful men, don't you? Let's see how much you like this power!" he grunted, his eyes glittering, ignoring the blood running down his face from my nails.

My head was spinning. My vision tunneled. The sheer panic was overwhelming, and I felt the horrible, sickening realization that I might not win this time.

Just as my lungs screamed for air and my voice gave way to a whimper, the front door exploded.

The loud, sickening crack of wood splintering tore through the air. Ezra stood in the doorway.

He wasn't wearing a suit. He was in black tactical gear—pants, a thick undershirt, and his expression was one of pure, raw terror and absolute, lethal focus. He saw the scene: Dexter on top of me, my torn clothing, my face bruised, Lexi weeping on the floor, and the stolen gun clenched in Dexter’s hand.

"GET OFF HER!" Ezra roared, a sound of such raw, visceral rage and fear that it shook the walls.

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