"Mafia's African Rose

Alexio Pov

       The man was on his knees, his face a bloody mess, his hands bound tightly behind his back. The small, damp room echoed with his labored breathing and the faint sound of water dripping from a rusted pipe in the corner. I paced around him slowly, the hard soles of my shoes clicking against the concrete floor. The faint glimmer of fear in his eyes told me he understood just how deeply he had messed up.

"Did you really think you could steal from me?" I asked, my voice calm but laced with a threat that would make any sane man tremble.

He whimpered, his voice shaking. "Please, I–I didn't mean—"

I raised a finger, cutting him off. "Excuses mean nothing to me. Loyalty means everything." I crouched down to his level, leaning in so close that he could see every ounce of hatred in my gaze. "You betrayed me. And do you know what happens to those who betray me?"

He swallowed, eyes wide with terror, his mouth moving without sound. I motioned to one of my men, who stepped forward, handing me a long, gleaming knife. I toyed with it, watching him flinch as the blade caught the light.

Without another word, I pressed the knife to his throat, just enough for him to feel the sharp edge bite into his skin. "People like you are useful until you prove otherwise. And you? You proved otherwise."

I stood, gesturing to my men to take him away, the sounds of his pleas fading as they dragged him into the shadows. He would serve as an example—an object lesson to anyone who thought they could steal from me. Ruling this empire demanded fear, respect, and absolute control.

I had no reason to explain myself to anyone. No reason to justify my actions or my choices. My word was law, and my judgment was final. I was the boss. I didn't ask for permission, I didn't make apologies, and I certainly didn't answer to anyone.

But there was one thing gnawing at me, a distraction I hadn't felt before. I had arranged a meeting in Italy, one that could expand our network across Europe, fortifying our reach and power. But I kept pushing it back, delaying it with every excuse I could muster.

And I knew why.

Angel.

This was supposed to be easy—a girl brought into my world like any other, a tool to be used and discarded. Yet somehow, she was different.

When I think back to what happened in that bathroom—seeing her naked, vulnerable, and completely at my mercy—I realize how deeply her image is carved into my mind. She had been stunning, every line and curve of her body mesmerizing in ways I hadn't expected. In all my years, in the endless cycle of violence, power, and control, I've never felt remorse. I could kill an entire family, wipe them out without an ounce of emotion. The life of a mafia boss demands ruthlessness, a heart as cold as the metal I carry on me.

But with her, I had felt something foreign. Watching her broken, bruised, and quietly headstrong after I'd punished her, it hadn't felt like victory. If anything, it left a bitter taste in my mouth. I'd told her that she was nothing to me, that she couldn't even make me Hard. But that was the most ridiculous lie I'd ever spoken. This woman could undo me with a single smile. And that, above all, was the real danger.

     My phone rang, jolting me from my thoughts. It was one of my men. "Boss, I have information about Alexa and... the girl," he said carefully.

"Speak," I snapped, my patience already thin.

"They're at the club. Alexa took her there tonight."

I clenched my jaw, fury simmering beneath the surface. This wasn't just any club; it was one of mine. Alexa was like family, practically a sister, and she knew better than to expose Angel to my world so openly. The club wasn't a safe haven, it was my territory—a place where boundaries could blur and restraint was a suggestion rather than a rule. And Angel had no idea what dangers lurked beneath the allure and lights.