The Mafia King Found My Secret Ultrasound — And Sealed the Exit Doors

From the high metal rafters of the abandoned warehouse, three flashbang grenades dropped simultaneously.

The explosion of blinding white light and deafening concussive sound ripped through the room. Marcus shrieked, clutching his ears as he stumbled backward. Helena dropped the gun in shock, stumbling as the concussive wave knocked her against a rusted pillar.

Through the smoke and shattered glass, Roman descended like an avenging fury.

He didn't fire wildly; he moved with lethal, horrifying precision. Two rapid suppressed gunshots took down Marcus's armed thugs before they could raise their weapons. Dante and four elite Thorne operatives breached the doors with military efficiency, cutting off every escape route within seconds.

Roman ignored everyone else. His eyes locked onto Norah tied to the chair, the red mark on her cheek burning against her pale skin.

A sound tore from Roman’s throat—a guttural roar of pure, unadulterated rage that made Marcus drop to his knees in terror.

Helena scrambled to reach for her fallen gun, but Roman was on her instantly. His heavy boot came down mercilessly on her wrist, snapping the bone with a sickening crunch. Helena screamed in agony as Roman kicked the weapon into the dark water beneath the floor grates.

""Roman! Please! We're blood!"" Marcus sobbed, crawling backward on his hands and knees. ""It was Helena's idea! She offered me the harbor!""

Roman turned toward his cousin. The look on his face was not human; it was the face of an executioner whose sacred sanctum had been violated. He stepped forward, grabbing Marcus by the throat with one hand, lifting him completely off his feet and slamming him against the brick wall.

""You put hands on my pregnant wife,"" Roman whispered, his voice vibrating with lethal hatred. ""You brought a gun into my home. In my world, Marcus, blood doesn't save you from treason.""

""Roman, stop!""

The cry pierced through the red haze blinding him.

Roman paused, his fingers digging into Marcus's throat. He looked over his shoulder.

Norah was weeping, struggling against the ropes. ""Don't do this in front of me! Don't let your soul be ruined by this vermin! Roman... look at me! I need you!""

Roman’s chest heaved. He stared at Norah—at her swollen cheek, her tear-streaked face, and the protective way she curled her body to shield her stomach even while bound. The monster inside him wrestled with the man she had called to life.

Slowly, Roman lowered his hand. Marcus collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath.

""Dante,"" Roman commanded coldly, not looking at his cousin. ""Take them both. Hand Helena over to her father with a message: if any Moretti crosses the river again, their entire bloodline ends. As for Marcus... throw him on a cargo ship to South America. Strip his name. If he ever sets foot on this continent again, bury him.""

""Yes, boss.""

Roman sprinted across the concrete, dropping to his knees before Norah. His hands trembled violently as he drew a tactical knife, slicing through her ropes with frantic speed.

The moment the rough hemp fell away, Norah threw her arms around his neck, burying her face into the crook of his collarbone. She sobbed uncontrollably, the terror of the past three hours finally breaking out of her.

""I’ve got you,"" Roman breathed, his voice cracking with emotion as he wrapped his massive arms around her, burying his face in her hair. ""I’m here, Norah. You’re safe. I’ve got you, my love. I’ve got you.""

He pulled back, his thumbs wiping the tears and the speck of blood from her face with agonizing gentleness. ""Did they hurt you anywhere else? The baby?""