Page 175 of Mila: The Godfather

When I was a young lad, my grandfather would always remind me that with leadership comes great responsibility and that, to remain on top, you had to have the respect of your followers more than their fear. A man who fears their leader might grow to resent them and will most likely turn rat out of bitterness and desperation. While a man who respects their leader and trusts him will not falter. They won’t bite the hand that feeds them.

I tried to maintain a balance when keeping my men in line by treating them like my brothers, between gaining their respect and trust and putting the fear of what would happen to them if they crossed me. I always made an example out of the rats, but I guess I was too soft on the twins.

They had a shitty start in life, but whereas Maeve didn’t let her past keep her down, Conor allowed it to cloud his judgment and feed his need for more.

Both twins have abnormally high IQs, but Conor’s was something more. He always kept to himself and did what he was told without complaining. Just kept his head down. I didn’t notice he was straying until it was too late.

I had no choice.

He was—

“Riagan…” The voice of an angel whispers soothingly, pulling me out of the shadows. It’s dark here. Cold, too. “Riagan, please open your eyes.” The angel with the sweet voice pleads.

Mila.

My butterfly.

Slowly coming to consciousness, I open my eyes to find the eyes of the woman I love so fucking much filled with tears and anguish. Mila hovers over me while I’m lying on the couch, and before she has a chance to say anything, I quickly rise to my full height, not caring that it fucking hurts everywhere when I move.

“Are you hurt?” I hold her slightly away from me and inspect her quickly. She does not appear to be harmed besides her red eyes. She’s been crying. Fuck. This shouldn’t have happened. Not to her and not in a place where she should always feel safe.

“No. Maeve protected me until you came for me.” She raises her hand, places it on my chest, and taps it repeatedly. She’s trying to comfort me.

You came for me. I hear nothing else. I press a kiss on the crown of her head. Then, her forehead, and because I cannot stand one more minute without reassuring myself she is alive and well, I capture her mouth and sweep my tongue inside. She responds instantly, molding her body to mine, and kisses me back. We break away, panting from the intense kiss.

“I will always come for you, butterfly. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do, and there’s not a single man I wouldn’t destroy if they stood in the way of me getting to you. Never doubt that.” My busted-up fingers brush over her tear-wet skin. “And your weeping destroys me,” he says in a soft voice and kisses my cheeks. “No more crying. You’re safe. I’m here now.”

She smiles weakly at me, and then her eyes leave me and focus on something or someone behind me. “Riagan there’s something you need to know.” My wife whispers.

Turning to look at my surroundings, I find some of my men looking grief-stricken and others angry. That’s when all that occurred in the past hour flashed through my mind. The ambush.

The mercenary who, in the end, turned out to be one of my men who betrayed me, Conor.

Then the look of fear on Mila’s face when a gun went off.

The pain in my chest from a bullet grazing my skin.

Whoever shot me didn’t intend to kill me.

A shot from that close should’ve killed me, but it didn’t.

“Where’s Da?” I search around the room with my goddamn heart in my throat. No one speaks up, angering me further. “Where the fuck is my–”

“I’m right here, a sheòid.”

I won’t ever admit, but at this moment, I could fall to my fucking knees and weep with gratitude that no one got to him. That my wife is safe and here with me. My men – all of them risked their lives for me. For my wife and my father. “Who then?” I ask, turning to look at which of my men is missing, and that’s when I don’t see Maeve. The twins?

The sound of a throat clearing pulls us apart. Turning with Mila in my arms, I watch as Kadra Parisi strides inside the living room area that looks like a battle zone with just one of her soldiers in tow. Her right-hand man. Crow.

The Parisi boss is dressed to the nines in a heavy leather coat and nine-inch red heels. I don’t miss the look of disapproval she gives me before her eyes turn to my wife. Her youngest sister.

“How did you find out I had her?” I hold tightly to Mila’s hand, now facing her sister. If she’s here to take her from me, she’ll have to do so over my dead body. The fact that she came with just one of her soldiers makes me think she’s not looking for a war.

“I’m ashamed to admit it took me this long.” She then throws something at my feet. A Joker’s card. “This was sent to one of my hotels.”

“If you came to take her from me, it won’t be so easy,” I warn.

Kadra arrogantly raises a gloved hand and turns to look at her sister, dismissing me.

---