Page 136 of Mafia King of Lies

I tighten my grip on my gun, my knuckles bone-white. Every muscle in my body is locked, my breaths short and ragged. Rage pulses through my veins, dark and consuming. I can barely hold it in.

Giacomo will pay for what he’s done. And now that I know my wife is carrying our child, the fire in my veins burns even hotter.

Every inch of me aches with rage, but it’s not just that. It’s the thought of losing Maria—of not being there to raise our child. I can’t let that happen. Not now. Not when everything I’ve fought for is finally within reach.

Even if she never forgives me for what I’ve done, I have to be there for our child. I’ve already lost too much—I can’t lose this. I can’t let Giacomo take them from me or let my past mistakes cost me the future I’m fighting for.

No. This time, I’ll protect what’s mine.

Valerio’s voice cuts through the thick tension in the car. “Focus, Matteo. Breathe. This isn’t the time for rage.” His fingers tighten around the wheel. “I need you to keep your head, boss. If you lose control, she dies.”

I suck in a sharp breath through my teeth, forcing my vision to clear. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Valerio growls, his own voice tight with frustration. “You’re thinking about murder, not strategy. That’s going to get us all killed.”

I slam my fist against the dashboard, my control cracking. “What the fuck do you want me to do, Valerio? Sit here and be calm while Giacomo holds a gun to Maria’s head?”

Valerio doesn’t even flinch. He keeps his eyes on the road, jaw locked. “No. I want you to focus. I want you to use that sick fucking mind of yours and outthink him. That’s how we win.”

He’s right. But knowing it doesn’t make the fury go away.

I drag a hand down my face, exhaling slowly. “We take out every single one of his men—no loose ends, no mercy.”

“Agreed,” Valerio says. “But we secure Maria first. You get reckless, you put her life in danger.”

I know. It’s the only thing keeping me from losing my mind completely.

My ringtone blares in the car.

Dario.

I snatch it up, pressing it to my ear. “Talk.”

“We’re two minutes behind you,” he says. “My men are in position—three miles out, just like you said. Once we get the signal, we move in.”

“Good.”

I hear muffled, frantic voices in the background. Then Dario exhales sharply. “Matteo, listen to me—Giacomo is counting on you to be blinded by rage.”

He’s right.

“Don’t let him win. He is going to try and bait you into reacting instead of thinking,” Dario says, his tone serious. “He wants you to break. To make a mistake. To play into his game.”

I close my eyes for half a second, grounding myself. “I won’t.”

The call ends, and we continue on our way. Valerio pushes the car harder, the trees whipping past in a blur.

The second Valerio slams the brakes, I’m already out of the car, my boots hitting the mud with force. The earth beneath my boots is slick, like it’s fighting me with every step.

Cold air bites at my skin, and I taste the sharp sting of rainwater mixing with the sweat of my own rage. But I don’t care. I barely register the rain soaking through my shirt.

All I hear is the distant echo of gunfire. The fight has already begun. We’re walking into a live battleground—and we need to keep our heads.

Dario’s SUV is already parked, his men positioned around it like sentinels in the dark.

Weapons drawn. Eyes sharp. They’re primed for war.

I meet Dario’s gaze. “Position?”

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