The Mafia's Pet: Pawn Of The Ruthless ( A Dark Romance)

Chapter 41: Wraths Of A Man

Aemilio was on a business trip when he received the news. At first, it sounded so absurd he couldn't believe it. Someone had dared to penetrate his mansion, his fortress, and had attempted to kidnap Evangelina, his property. No one had ever dared to cross him like this before, and the fact that they had managed to escape, unharmed and unpunished, ignited a fire in him. Rage coursed through his veins, boiling his blood.

The moment he hung up the phone, his entire demeanor changed. If he had been there, if he hadn't been away for business, he would have put a bullet in their heads himself. Without hesitation. The thought of it brought him a twisted sense of satisfaction. His hand twitched instinctively, longing for the feel of cold metal against his skin, the weight of his favorite gun. He could see it clearly—the way their bodies would crumple to the ground, lifeless, as he stood over them.

But that satisfaction was taken from him. They had escaped. And worse, they had made a fool out of him. *In his own home.* That humiliation burned in his chest like acid, and it wasn't something he could forgive.

He cut his business trip short immediately. There was no time to waste. If the world caught wind of this, if anyone found out that someone had dared to infiltrate his estate and leave without so much as a scratch, they would think he was weak. And that was something he couldn't afford. His reputation, his power, everything depended on people knowing he was untouchable. He ruled with fear, and this incident was a threat to everything he had built.

When he returned to the mansion, his first stop was the clinic. He stormed through the halls, his menacing presence sending shivers through the staff. Everyone knew that Aemilio in this mood was dangerous—lethal, even.

The door to the clinic swung open with force, and Aemilio stepped inside, his eyes immediately locking on Evangelina. She lay on the bed, looking fragile, weak. It only fueled his anger. He stalked over to her, his footsteps heavy with purpose.

"What happened?" His voice was cold, demanding. He towered over her, his shadow casting a long, dark stretch across the bed.

Evangelina flinched at the sound of his voice. She struggled to sit up, her head still spinning from the aftermath of the attack and the stress of being in Aemilio's presence. She felt sluggish, her body weak and her mind hazy. But she knew better than to show it. Any sign of weakness would only anger him further.

"I don't remember everything," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She kept her eyes lowered, not daring to meet his gaze. "Two men came out of nowhere. I screamed, and Bruno showed up. They ran before he could stop them."

Aemilio clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. He wanted to grab her by the throat, drag her out of that bed, and slam her head into the nearest wall. How could she have let this happen? How could anyone in his house let this happen? The outside world would think he was weak because of her, because of this failure. It disgusted him.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" he hissed, his voice low and threatening. "Do you realize how this makes me look? I bring you into my home, I allow you to breathe under my roof, and this is how you repay me? By letting *scum* walk in and try to take you away?"

Evangelina felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She knew she had no control over what happened, but in Aemilio's mind, it was always someone's fault. Someone had to pay, and right now, she was the closest target.

He turned away from her for a moment, running a hand through his dark hair, trying to calm the raging storm inside him. But it was useless. The fury was too strong. He grabbed the chair beside the bed and flung it across the room, the loud crash echoing in the small clinic.

"You're lucky Bruno got to you in time," he growled. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be here right now. And neither would they." He paused, his voice growing darker. "I would have killed them myself. Slowly."

Evangelina winced at his words but said nothing. There was nothing she could say that would calm him down. She knew that from experience.

He turned to leave, his coat sweeping behind him like a cape. "Rest for now," he spat. "But when you're well enough, you'll tell me every detail of what happened. No matter how small." Without waiting for a response, Aemilio stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

As he left the clinic, his mind was already racing. He needed answers, and he needed them now. His first target was the maid. The one who had led Evangelina to the garden, the one who had mysteriously disappeared after the attack. It didn't take long for his men to track her down. She had been hiding, but no one could hide from Aemilio for long.

The maid was dragged into the dungeons beneath the mansion, her face pale with fear. She knew what was coming. Everyone knew what Aemilio did to traitors. She was thrown into a cold, dark cell, and the door slammed shut behind her.

For days, she was tortured. Beaten, starved, interrogated. Aemilio's men took turns with her, each one trying to break her spirit. But no matter how much they hurt her, no matter how many bones they broke, she held her ground. She said nothing.

"Who let them in?" one of the guards barked, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "Who are you working for?"

The maid shook her head, her lips trembling, but she refused to speak. She wasn't working for anyone, and she wasn't going to admit to something she didn't do. But the more she stayed silent, the more brutal the torture became.

"Talk!" the guard shouted, slamming his fist into her face. Blood spattered across the floor, but the maid didn't cry out. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

Aemilio watched from the shadows, his eyes cold and calculating. He admired her strength, in a way. She was stubborn, refusing to break even when her body was on the verge of giving out. But it didn't matter. Sooner or later, everyone broke.

"Enough," Aemilio said, stepping out of the shadows. The guard immediately backed away, bowing his head. "Leave her for now. She'll talk eventually."

The guard nodded and left the room, leaving Aemilio alone with the maid. He crouched down in front of her, his eyes scanning her bruised and battered face.

"You think you're strong," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "But no one is strong enough to defy me. You will talk. It's only a matter of time."

The maid's breath came in ragged gasps, but she lifted her head slightly, meeting his gaze with defiance. Aemilio smirked, amused by her bravery. But it was a foolish kind of bravery. One that wouldn't last.

He stood up and turned to leave the cell. "Let her rot for a while," he said to the guard outside. "We'll see how long her spirit lasts."

As the door to the dungeon closed behind him, Aemilio's mind was already moving on to the next step. He would find out who was behind this, and when he did, they would regret ever crossing him.

No one made a fool out of Aemilio and lived to tell the tale.