Page 70 of Dark Mafia Heir

I’m going to kill them. I’m going to fucking kill them all.

When I march back inside, I head to the center of the stage, raise my arm in the air. I hold the gun steady, my chest rising and falling with fire coursing through my veins. And I pull the trigger. Four shots fired in quick succession.

Glass shatters, loud, terrified screams rip through the air, and some lights go off.

The music stops, and I know I have everyone’s attention.

Wide, frightened eyes lock onto me. A couple of them tremble, but none dare move. A cluster of young people huddle in the corner, some crouched beneath tables as though cheap wood could shield them from me. They think it can, but it won’t. Nothing fucking will.

My gaze sweeps across the room. “Someone here spiked my wife’s drink. Some fucking idiot here believed that somehow they could do that and walk away unscathed. Now, here’s the thing: if you had a hand in this, I assure you that you won’t be leaving here alive.”

Someone lets out a muffled whimper, and my eyes snap to them. It’s a girl, one of the juveniles. She shrinks back into a corner with tears streaming down her face, and I narrow my eyes at her.

Silently, I dare any one of them in the room to speak, tobreathewrong.

“Whoever you are, you have sixty seconds.”

No one steps forward.

“Forty fucking seconds now. You all have a chance to tell me who it was, or I’ll start deciding myself. Don’t make me ask again.”

Still, no one.

“Thirty. . . Twenty . . .”

My mercy—what little I had—is buried beneath a sea of boiling anger. I don’t care who’s afraid. I don’t care who’s innocent. My eyes find one of the security guards near the stage. He was one of them stationed by the VIP section.

His eyes meet mine, and he starts to tremble. Guilt gleams in his eyes, and sweat beads on his forehead as I step closer and press the gun to his head. “Weren’t you supposed to keep fucking watch?”

Dropping to his knees, he clutches his arm, drawing ragged breaths like a wounded animal, and his voice cracks when he speaks. “I’m sorry, boss. She asked me to give Vivienne the drink, but she said it was from you. I didn’t know.”

Anger claws its way up my throat like acid as I look toward the direction he’s pointing.

The light shines on a blonde woman, her teary eyes pinned on me as if she’s just seen a beast. Her fingers are ash, and she looks like she’s barely breathing.

It’s her. The stripper I rejected.

I laugh mirthlessly as I shift my attention back to the security guard.“You were supposed to protect her. How could this stripper have tricked you? You’re a worthless piece of shit!”

Before he can say a word, I pounce on him, landing a punch that makes his jaw crack and leaves a trickle of blood on my hand.

More rage flares in my chest as I prowl over to the stripper and fist her ponytail. She whimpers to my grip but doesn’t try to fight back. I guess one stupid action is enough for one night. “Do you know she’s barely breathing? If she dies, I’ll make your entire family suffer!”

Her voice breaks as she speaks. “I’m sorry… I… I was…”

“I don’t want to hear any excuses from you,” I growl at her. Through the corner of my eyes, I see the security guard stagger back to his feet. Trembling with rage, I pull out my gun and point it at him. “I could put a bullet in your fucking head if I wanted to.”

But I can’t.

I can’t kill a woman, not when she looks so terrified of me. I can’t kill the security guard over a mistake, even if I wanted to—though the thought of Vivienne being hurt is driving me insane. Vivienne wouldn’t like it. She already sees me as a monster. She’ll hate me if she finds out what happened.

It’s a struggle as I lower my gun and yell,“Get out! Both of you, get out before I change my mind! And pray she’s still alive—because if she isn’t, I won’t stop until I find you, and you pay for her death. If I ever see your faces again—or even hear of you being near my wife—you’ll regret being born. I’ll fucking kill you!”

When I get backto the house, I don’t make any stops until I’m in the bedroom.

She’s already awake.

I can see the soft rise and fall of her shoulders as she stands by the window, her back to me, her silhouette framed in the soft light spilling through the glass. Her head turns slightly, justenough to let me know she knows I’m here. Her eyes meet mine over her shoulder, but they’re unreadable.

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