My Mafia King (mxm)

Chapter 1

Third POV

The room was dimly lit, the air heavy with tension. Anton's father paced frantically, his usually composed demeanor shattered.

His fear-filled eyes darted between the floor and the walls as if searching for an escape from an invisible predator. Anton, sprawled on the couch, watched his father’s panic with an air of confusion and mild irritation.

“What do you mean, you bullied him because you were FRUSTRATED?” The man bellowed, his voice echoing through the room. Anton leaned back, his legs stretched out nonchalantly.

“Dad, why are you being so worked up? It was just for fun" He said, his tone casual, almost dismissive.

His father froze, his breathing ragged.

“Oh dear Lord, it is my mistake. I haven’t told you anything before coming here... This is all my fault. FUCK!” He growled, tugging at his hair in frustration.

Anton sat up, his casual demeanor replaced with mild concern.

“What didn’t you tell me?” His father turned to him, his face pale, sweat dripping down his temples.

“Anton, you shouldn’t have done that" He muttered, his voice trembling. Anton’s brows furrowed.

“Dad, can you please tell me what’s going on?” The older man took a deep breath, his eyes wide with dread.

“My son… you don’t know who you bullied. He will kill not only you but all our lineage" Anton blinked, confused.

“Huh? Dad," He stood and approached his father, his unease growing.

“W-Who was h-he?” The man stopped pacing and turned to his son, his lips trembling.

“Alexei Mikhailov... CAESAR MIKHAILOV’s brother!”

The name hit Anton like a freight train. His face turned ashen, his legs giving way as he collapsed onto the floor.

Memories of Alexei’s pleas and tears flashed through his mind, the boy he’d humiliated and tormented now carrying a name that struck terror into even the most hardened criminals.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Anton… You shouldn’t" His father whispered, sinking onto the couch, his head in his hands.

Anton scrambled to his knees, gripping his father’s arm.

“Dad, Dad, look at me. We can do something, right? We can just go from here” He said desperately but his father shook his head, his voice hollow.

“There’s nowhere to go. No one escapes Caesar Mikhailov. He owns everything. Everywhere" The boy’s voice cracked as he yelled.

“What do you mean no? We are the mafia! No one can just kill us like this!” His father looked up, his eyes deadened.

“But he is… the Mafia King".

The room fell silent except for Anton’s ragged breathing. His mind spun with fear and regret, the weight of his actions crushing him. He dropped to the floor, his body trembling as tears streamed down his face.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I’m sorry” He sobbed, his voice barely audible.

His father, usually a man of pride and power, sat like a broken shell, muttering under his breath.

“It’s too late. It’s too late…”

Their men, stoic and disciplined, stood like statues around the room. They exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing, the pity in their eyes stark. They knew the truth. The inevitable had been set into motion.