Mafia's Obsession [18+]

22.

Sofia

I don't know what pushes me to do it, maybe for a fact that Ezio is distracted with my presence he takes more hits or the realization that his life—our life—is on the line and this man is here to kill.

A loud thud of a body falls on the ground is unexpectedly satisfying in my ears. I shot at his back the moment he has Ezio on chokehold. God, I am so lucky I didn't miss.

"Ezio..."

My hands tremble as I finally register that I possibly just murdered someone.

Ezio puts a good measure and kicks him hard in the neck. I flinch at the sight. The burly body groans in agony, but barely moving. Maybe the bullet in his spine makes him paralyzed or some sort.

"Did I... did I just kill him?" My eye widen. Blood is seeping through, making a pool of mess on the carpet.

"No. You did not." He says, not looking at me while he's grabbing his neck to snap it effortlessly. He rises to his feet, leaving the lifeless body to take long strides towards me.

My whole body shakes the moment he wraps me in his embrace. The aftershock sucks. My adrenaline's still rushing in my veins even after Ezio takes the gun away.

"You should listen to me." He hisses harshly. A mix of relief and anger in his voice. "Fuck. I don't know what I'll do if I lose you." A soft kiss on my temple contradicts his temper. But I'm too numb to give him snarky comments. Or to register what he means by it.

I swallow thickly. "Why—who was he?"

"Let's go inside first. I need to make some calls." He says in a calmest tone he can muster.

I wonder how he does that. As if he didn't just take someone's life. It reminds me of his true self. What he's capable of.

I don't question him when he leads me back to our room and sits me on the bed. He's pacing back and forth, making several calls and yelling orders. His fury is noticeable. So are his bruises.

I inspect the damages on the corner of his mouth, his jaw, arms and probably his abdomen because I catch him wince a couple of times with every move.

When he finishes, he rubs his face tiredly. I wait impatiently for his explanation. Thankfully, he gives it.

"He was sent to kill us. My cousin has theory that it was Russo's doing." He states matter-of-factly, shaking his head in almost disbelief. "I caught him wandering in hallways. I know he's not one of my staffs."

We are definitely in danger. Mafia war is the worst season, especially now that I'm physically trapped in the crossfire.

"How many men did they send here?" My question hangs heavy in the air.

I hate how weak I am as fear overtakes my body. The bad blood with Russo has been going on for too long. If it was really Russo's doing, it's very unlikely they only sent one man.

"I've called Franco for sweeping the yacht throughly. Any intruders will be killed on the spot. Guards will be stationed in every post now until we arrive in Malta." He explains the situation. "They better do the fucking job or I'll have their heads. I won't tolerate any more fuck-ups."

I nod my head, my body still shaking. We are so close to death. When mafia war happened, I was usually hidden away from the danger. But just now, seeing the killer was only steps away to—

"Thank you." He pulls me out temporarily from my overanalyzing brain. "For saving me." To my surprise, he's being sincere.

I look at him, failing to mask indifference on my face. He must sense it because then he's killing the distance and pulling me in his arms once again. It's shockingly comforting.