Undressed By The Mafia God novel Chapter 187

Chapter 187: I’m Going To Kill You

The club was alive.

Lights flashing.

Bodies moving.

Laughter and sin blending into one intoxicating atmosphere. But Marco didn’t see any of it. Didn’t hear it. Didn’t feel it.

All he saw...Was red.

By the time he reached the changing room corridor, the music dulled slightly, replaced by chatter, heels clicking, the soft murmur of dancers preparing for the next set.

And there—was Ricardo standing too comfortably, too casually, talking, laughing.

Marco’s vision tunneled. "You fucking son of a bitch! I’m going to kill you!" His voice tore through the room before chaos erupted. Marco didn’t give Ricardo the luxury of understanding what was happening before it happened. His fist flew and connected.

A sickening crack echoed through the room as his knuckles slammed into Ricardo’s face, sending him stumbling backward. The force of it snapped his head to the side, blood spilling instantly from his nose.

The dancers screamed, scattering, heels clattering against the floor as they fled the explosion of violence.

"Have you gone mad?!" Ricardo spat, staggering, hand flying to his face as he tried to regain his footing. Blood dripped through his fingers, staining his shirt.

Mad?

"You think this is madness? You have no idea what madness looks like."

Ricardo blinked, confusion flickering across his face despite the blood still dripping from his nose. "What are you—"

Marco shoved him backward.

Ricardo hit the wall behind him, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs.

His fist pressed into Ricardo’s collar, bunching the fabric, holding him in place.

"...you better pray...fuck you better pray. Holy fucking Christ, you better pray."

Ricardo swallowed hard, his bravado faltering.

This kind of damage, Marco didn’t know how to fight it.

He couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t punch it away. He couldn’t shoot it, threaten it, or bury it. Marco felt completely useless.

"You stay away from her, you hear me? If I sniff you around her ever again! I swear to God, I will put a bullet so far down your throat it will take five medical examiners to find it."

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Ricardo snapped.

"Stay the fuck away from her!" he finished. Marco turned and walked out of the changing room, his steps heavy, the adrenaline still burning hot in his veins. The noise of the club swallowed him again as he moved through it—music, laughter, bodies brushing past him.

By the time he reached the garage, his anger still hadn’t cooled.

"Fuck!" he swore as he stopped beside his car. "Fuck!" he shouted again, louder this time, kicking hard at the side of his tire.

Pain shot up his leg.

He welcomed it. He yanked the car door open and slid into the driver’s seat, slamming it shut behind him.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket. He didn’t need to read the message again. He already knew it.

Word for word. Burned into his mind.

Still, he opened it.

’I think I’m pregnant. My sister is going to kill me.’

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