Page 51 of The Mafia Bloodline
He chuckled low, the sound rumbling through me. “Especially both of you.”
As laughter filled the room, Sorcha’s teasing, Layla’s joy, even Viking’s shameless jokes, I realized something quietly beautiful.
For all the blood, the chaos, the war that had shaped our lives… this was what they’d fought for. This warmth, this love, this future.
And as Volken’s hand tightened gently on mine, his lips brushing my temple, I knew that no matter how dark the nights ahead might become this child, our child, would be born into a world worth fighting for.
Yes, it’s a world filled with blood fights, pain, but it’s also a world filled with love, with pride and with close family that stand together through the good and the bad.
Chapter 17
The night had teeth again. It bit through the air, sharp and cold, the kind of chill that crawled up your spine and told you something was coming.
We had been running on fury and exhaustion for days, ever since the ambush at Havoc, ever since the demons had crawled out of the shadows like a living curse. And now, finally, we had the name of the bastard who’d fed Caesar our plans.
The traitor.
I stood in front of him now, in one of our interrogation basements, there is dim light, blood on the concrete, the smell of fear thick in the air. The man was shaking so hard his teeth clattered. He was human, middle-aged, one of our lower-level suppliers, the kind who ran shipments and pretended not to know what was inside.
He wasn’t pretending anymore.
Roman stood to my right, arms crossed, his face unreadable. Lucien was all ice, the strategist, watching the man’s every twitch. Viking paced in the background, the sound of his boots striking the floor like the ticking of a bomb. And Draugr leaned against the wall, silent, eyes shadowed with the weight of what he already knew.
“Tell us again,” Roman said, voice deceptively calm. “Who gave you the order?”
The man swallowed hard, his voice cracking. “C-Caesar. I swear, I didn’t know it was him at first, he used another name. He… he said if I passed along any movement, any shipments tied to the Dragic name, he’d make me rich.”
“Rich,” Viking repeated, his tone a low snarl. “You sold us out for money?”
The man’s eyes darted to him, then away. “I didn’t know he’d, he said it was just business! I didn’t think he’d…”
He didn’t finish. Viking moved too fast for him to flinch, one hand grabbing his collar, the other slamming him against the wall hard enough to crack the plaster. “You didn’t think,” he hissed, fangs flashing. “You think ‘business’ covers betraying blood, you piece of…”
“Viking,” Roman cut in, voice sharp.
Viking froze but didn’t release him. His breathing was ragged, that dangerous spark in his eyes flaring brighter.
Lucien stepped forward, calm but deadly. “Where is he now?”
“I don’t…”
I moved before Roman could stop me. My hand shot out, slamming into the man’s chest and pinning him to the wall beside Viking’s arm. “Don’t lie,” I growled, letting a hint of the predator edge into my voice. “You smell like fear. You know exactly where he is. Say it.”
The man whimpered, shaking his head, until my grip tightened. Then the words came spilling out.
“The docks!” he choked. “Pier 7, the old storage yard. He’s meeting someone there, I think it’s a buyer. It’s tonight!”
Roman’s eyes flicked to mine, and that was all I needed.
“Then we move.”
We rolled out within minutes, a convoy of SUVs cutting through the night like silent predators.
My pulse was a drumbeat of purpose and fury.
Caesar. The name alone made my fangs ache. He’d once been part of our bloodline.
Our father’s brother. Now he was a rot in the family tree, and we were going to carve him out.
