Mafia's Princess(Under Editing)

Chapter 20

Anastasia Rose

The impact was huge—even though the car hadn't been speeding any more than usual.

The vehicle stopped abruptly, the force of the collision throwing us all forward before the seatbelts snapped us back. Silence followed—thick, heavy silence—after the violent sound of metal crashing into wood.

For a moment, the night felt unnaturally quiet.

I was shielded from most of the impact, Enzo's body and arms wrapped around me protectively. His hold was firm, unyielding, like he could keep the whole world from hurting me if he tried hard enough.

My breathing came out uneven, chest rising and falling rapidly as the shock settled in. My hands tightened in his shirt instinctively, my eyes squeezed shut.

The feeling dragged an old memory to the surface.

A few years ago—
a highway.
an accident.
a flat tire.

Eunha and I had been on our first road trip together with her guardian. I had been so excited—too excited. It was the first time I was allowed to go somewhere without Papa by my side, away from the French, away from constant danger.

That excitement had turned into terror in seconds.

My grip on Enzo tightened further.

"Are you okay??" Enzo asked, rubbing my back gently, his voice steady despite the situation.

I nodded, my voice coming out hoarse as I whispered, "Yes... Are you?"

"I am," he replied calmly, then looked toward the front. "Ethan, Mateo—you guys okay?"

I turned sharply, remembering they were with us too.

"Yeah, I'm fine... just got a little bump on my forehead from the hit I guess," Mateo said, wincing slightly.

Ethan only nodded in response.

"Let's get out," Enzo said.

I pulled away from his hold reluctantly and stepped out of the car, followed by the three of them. Mateo was still holding his head, his steps slightly slow.

"You alright, Mateo?" I asked worriedly, grabbing his arm.

He dropped his hand from his head and cupped my cheek gently.
"I'm fine, bambina. Don't worry," he assured me.(baby)

I turned my gaze toward the car, analyzing the damage.

It was bad—really bad.

The bonnet was badly dented, one of the left headlights completely shattered. Scratches ran along the side of the car like claw marks. It was a miracle we hadn't suffered worse injuries—aside from Mateo hitting his head on the dashboard and getting a slight concussion.

Just then—

Tires screeched.

All four of us turned sharply.

The two SUVs that had been following us came to a halt a few meters away. As if a switch had flipped, my brothers' expressions turned ice-cold, eyes burning with rage.

The car doors opened and at least ten men stepped out.

And then him.

The bastard responsible for all of this.

He walked forward slowly, hands deep in his pockets, lips stretched into a smug, infuriating smirk. His men parted to make way for him like obedient dogs.

God, I wanted to ruin that face so badly.

What if we had gotten into a more severe accident because of this idiot?