The Mafiaso And The AD 1024

The breaking point

The afternoon light filtered through the curtains of my bedroom, casting long shadows across the floor.

I was sitting at my desk, trying to focus on the paperwork that had piled up during my recovery.

But my mind kept drifting back to Amara, to the last time I saw her, to the look in her eyes when she drove that knife into my chest.

A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. Marcel entered, his expression grim as he handed me envelope.

The weight in my chest returned, heavier than before. I knew what this was before I even opened it.

With trembling hands, I tore the envelope open. Inside was a photograph, one that made my blood run cold.

Amara was in the centre, her face covered in fresh bruises, her lip split and crusted with dried blood.

She was holding our twins, Hermione and Blaze, close to her chest.

They were tiny, too small to be in this world of violence, and yet, here they were, caught in the middle of a nightmare.

Their little faces were scrunched up, red and teary, their cries silent through the photograph.

I clenched my jaw, my eyes scanning the photo for any detail that could give me a clue about where they were.

But it was the note that fell from the envelope that made my heart stop.

"One wrong move, and your precious heirs will pay the price. This is your last warning."

The rage that had been simmering within me since Amara's abduction boiled over.

I crushed the note in my hand, feeling the edges of the paper dig into my skin as I tried to control the surge of fury threatening to consume me.

"Marcel," I growled, barely able to keep my voice steady. He looked at me, waiting for my command, his own face a mask of barely restrained anger.

"Find them," I said through gritted teeth.

"I don't care what it takes, who you have to bribe, or who you have to kill. Just find them. And when we do.." I didn't finish the sentence. Marcel knew what I meant.

He nodded, turning to leave the room without a word. The door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the agonizing image of my family in danger.

I stared at the photograph again, my vision blurring with unshed tears. This wasn't just about me anymore.

Amara and I had been through hell, but now our children -our innocent, helpless children were being dragged into this twisted game.

Whoever was behind this had just signed their death warrant.

I would tear the world apart if I had to, but I would bring Amara and our twins home. Safe. Untouched.

And I would make sure that the person responsible for this never saw the light of day again.

I pressed my hand to the photograph, my fingers trembling with barely restrained fury. "I swear," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.

"I'Il make them pay for every bruise, every tear, every second they've made you suffer. I swear it."

The promise hung heavy in the air, a vow sealed by the burning rage in my heart.

This was the breaking point. I was done playing their game. Now, it was time to end it.