Chapter 13 - The Wrath of the King
Rostov’s fingers were just an inch away from grabbing Mia’s shoulder when a heavy, leather-clad boot slammed directly into his chest with the force of a speeding freight train.
Josiah had crossed the thirty-foot distance in less than three seconds. The impact lifted Rostov off his feet and sent him crashing backward across a stack of wooden crates, shattering them into kindling. Rostov gasped for breath, his weapon flying out of his hand and skittering across the concrete floor.
Before Rostov could recover, Josiah was on top of him. The mafia king pinned the syndicate leader to the ground with one massive knee pressed firmly into his chest, raining down heavy, brutal blows with his bare fists. Every punch echoed through the cavernous warehouse like thunder.
"You touch my daughter," Josiah growled, his voice vibrating with a terrifying, primal fury that made even his own men step back in awe, "you threaten my home, and you think you can walk away?"
"Boss! Boss, stop!" one of Rostov’s surviving mercenaries yelled, dropping his rifle and raising his hands in surrender as laser sights from half a dozen sniper rifles painted his chest. "We yield! Just don't kill him!"
Josiah stopped his fist an inch away from Rostov’s bloodied face, his chest heaving, his dark eyes burning with the cold, lethal fire of a king defending his realm. He slowly stood up, looking down at the broken syndicate leader with absolute disdain.
"Take him away," Josiah ordered his security captain without looking back. "Lock him in the lower holding cells beneath the estate. We have a lot of questions to ask him about his accomplices."
While the guards hauled the unconscious Rostov away, Willow was already kneeling beside Mia, using a tactical pocketknife to slice through the heavy nylon ropes binding the little girl to the chair. The moment the restraints fell away, Mia launched herself forward, throwing her arms around Willow’s neck and sobbing hysterically.
"I knew you'd come back," Mia cried into Willow’s shoulder, clinging to her with all her might. "I knew you wouldn't leave me!"
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"I told you, Mia—nobody gets between us and our family," Willow whispered, her own voice thick with emotion as she held the little girl tight, burying her face in her dark hair.
Josiah walked over slowly, kneeling down beside them. His knuckles were bruised and bloodied, his suit jacket torn, but as he wrapped his arms around both Willow and Mia, pulling them into a fierce, unbreakable embrace, his face radiated a deep, unshakeable peace. The war was over. The shadows had been driven back into the dark.
