The Mafia King's Unknown Doctor Wife novel Chapter 283

Elena ignored Massimo's phone. Luca had said backup was on their way—Massimo's subordinates were probably texting him updates. She wasn't surprised someone was trying to reach the Don of All Dons in the middle of this deadly gunfight.

Elena waited for her husband to text her back. She stared at her phone screen until it went dark from disuse.

Elena felt alone. As the sounds of bloody battle waged on outside, she felt small and scared.

Even when things were at their worst back at the Vitale estate—that terrible little house she grew up in—Elena had never felt this badly. Sure, her father loomed over her when she was younger and his rage was unpredictable. Elena had spent a fair amount of time hiding in the shadows, trying not to draw his attention—and therefore his wicked ire.

But even in those darkest moments, Elena hadn't feared for her life so deeply. Sure, she was worried her father might break a bone or leave a hard to cover bruise, but she wasn't ever worried he would kill her.

Dimly, Elena recalled hiding in a closet after one of her father's business talks went poorly. She had avoided getting yelled at or slapped around, but part of her wished she hadn't hidden away at all. It was the waiting, not knowing if her father would find her or not, that really made her miserable.

Just like the waiting in this car is making Elena miserable now.

Elena closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She decided if she could count to three without hearing a gunshot, she'd look out the car window.

"One," Elena breathed out quietly. "Two. Three."

She only heard a bullet fly by a second later. So Elena got back on the seat she had abandoned and looked outside the car window.

Contrary to what the rumors believed, Massimo didn't try to be brutal during fights. Sure, civilians and mafia members alike would whisper about how much the Mafia King loved to draw blood, but that was a lie. Usually, Massimo fought to maim rather than kill—knowing that he might need to interrogate people later—and that habit meant spilling more blood.

A person will bleed a lot more if you shoot them in both their arms and their legs than if you shoot them in the head—that's at least what Massimo learned over the years.

But today he wasn't fighting to maim. He was fighting to end this petty conflict. And that meant Massimo was being brutally efficient.

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