The Mafia Man's Trophy [On Hold]

Chapter 42.

Dominic
One Week Later

What is a man to do when all around him is the stink of blood, misfortune and the heat of angry red flames licking eagerly at his skin?

What is a man do to when the weight of being the harbinger of death weighs heavily on his shoulders?

Yes, what is a man to do-when his rivals dare to challenge him, to take from him what is rightfully his?

Indeed, what is a man to do?

"We'll find her, I know we're close..." A soft voice tinged with determined malice pipes up next to me, and I cast a lingering gaze on the woman who comes to stand by my side silently.

Sighing deeply I turn my gaze back to the building engulf in angry red and orange flames infront of me, and I grit my teeth pensively.

"Not close enough..." I mutter under my breath before turning to walk away.

It had been a week of nothing but bloodshed and death, and still Carlile refused to return Kylie to me.

It was driving me insane, and I was slowly losing my grip on reality as I grappled with the reality of losing her to him.

I felt like I was playing right into his hands, and it sent me up the wall. I was tearing up an entire city looking for her-setting fire to businesses and slaughtering anyone who stood in my way, while he hid himself away from the fued happening just outside his door.

I was under pressure, and slipping. I couldn't function knowing that she was in his traitorous clutches, and it brought me to my knees just thinking about what she's has had to endure.

Over the course of forty-eight hours the number of deaths had increased, bodies were piling high, and the streets had grown increasingly dangerous.

I was in a very volatile state of mind, and they knew, he knew. The war was between Carlile and I, but the others were on edge.

Everyone was tensed, but no one was brave enough or willing to engage in the war that Carlile had started when he kidnapped Kylie.

Cowards. All of them.

But I knew, I'd find her. With, or without their help.

Three Days Later
At the Estate

Death. Blood. Fire.

Three days had passed, and still Carlile remained adamant about coming clean and returning Kylie to me.

The old fool.

Blood curdling screams raise from the throat of the man sitting nailed to a wooden chair infront of me-screams that were raw, unhinged, pained.

His vocals mirrored the turmoil that's been coursing through me for the past several days. With no sleep, and barely anything to eat, I was teetering voilently on the edge of madness, and even though I could sense the concern and worry oozing off of Dimitri and Giovanni, I couldn't bare the thought of stopping in my quest to find my beautiful girl.

"Dominic..." A familiar voice mutters behind me, but I ignore it. Feeling anger and angst flair inside me at the raspy, gravely, old voice.

"Why are you here?" I bite out forcefully, pushing the knife deeper into the man sitting before me and twisting it savagely, hearing his scream scratch at my brain like a feral animal.

"I'm here to help you look for her." He mutters coolly, and I grit my teeth pensively before turning to stare at him with blood shot eyes.

"Why? You obviously don't care what happens to her." I mutter quietly, a dangerous edge to my voice as I rake my gaze over the man standing unphased by my words.