Married to the mafia King

The priest was kneeling on the ground in front of the cars.

Massimo stood behind him; one massive paw on the old man’s shoulder forced him to stay on his knees.

A few feet away, Adriano paced back and forth like an enraged panther, a pistol in his hand.

When Dario and I emerged from the alleyway, Adriano gestured with his pistol at the priest. “This stronzo acts like he doesn’t know what’s going on.”

“Leave me alone!” the old man cried out.

Dario nodded to Adriano, who pressed the barrel of the gun against the old man’s forehead.

“Time to answer a few questions, padre,” Adriano snarled.

“Wait stop there’s no reason for this,” the priest said in a panicked voice.

“Who do you work for?” Dario asked.

The priest’s blind eyes tracked the sound of Dario’s voice. “The Church I work for the Church! The pope, Rome, the Vatican!”

“I mean whoever else is lining your pockets.”

“I didn’t do anything! You have to believe me!”

Dario looked at me. “What happened?”

“He knew the man who attacked me,” I said. “The priest obeyed him.”

As soon as he heard my voice, the old man’s expression went from frightened to resigned.

“Damn it… I thought maybe he’d gotten away with her.” Then the priest smirked. “I guess not.”

I stared at him in astonishment.

He had been faking his fear. It had all been a lie.

Adriano seemed stunned, too. “Who the hell is this bastard?!”

“Probably not even a priest,” Dario said grimly. “Who’s your accomplice, the one I nearly killed back there?”

“Ask him yourself, asshole,” the old man croaked.

Adriano raised his gun and struck him across the face.

The old man yelped and went down on all fours.

Despite his evil intentions towards me, I still cried out in anguish.

After all, he was elderly and a priest.

Or at least dressed like one.

But the next sound that came out of his mouth chilled me to the bone.

He began to laugh… a chuckle at first, then a rising cackle.

“Who are you, really?” Dario asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Fine. You’ll talk plenty once we get you back to the house and Adriano goes to work on you.”

“Damn straight,” Adriano hissed.

“I don’t think so, you ”

And the old man let out a string of vile curses that would have been shocking coming from a sailor, much less a priest.

Adrian pistol-whipped him again, opening up a cut across his cheek.

The old man snarled but didn’t cry out this time.

“Careful, old man,” Dario cautioned him, “or my brother will send you to your eternal reward.”

“If that’s the case, then I’ll see you in hell, Dario Rosolini.”

The old man sneered

And suddenly began to froth at the mouth.

“What the ” Massimo exclaimed.

“Cyanide!” Dario roared.

He leapt over to the priest and shoved his finger into the man’s jaws, trying to scoop out whatever poison was inside

But it was too late.

The old man’s body jerked a couple of times, and then he collapsed onto the ground. White foam continued to spill from his grinning mouth.

Dario suddenly looked like he’d realized something.

“The one in the alley!” he shouted at Massimo. “Go get him, NOW!”

Massimo turned and ran as fast as he could.

Meanwhile, Dario wiped his hand in disgust on the fake priest’s robe.

“He’s dead,” Massimo’s voice called out from the alleyway a few seconds later. “Same exact thing cyanide.”

Dario cursed, then yelled, “Does he have a wallet? A phone? Any identification?”

There was another pause, then Massimo said, “Nothing on him.”

“What do you want to do?” Adriano asked Dario.

“Have Massimo put them in the trunk and haul them back to the house. I want you to search the church for any clue about who they work for. I’ll send Valentino to help you.”

“The priest said he had a cell phone in the back,” I said, pointing to the rear of the church.

“Start there,” Dario ordered his brother.

“Do we really want a bunch of dead bodies back at the house?” Massimo asked as he walked up.

“I don’t want them lying around here while Adriano ransacks the place. It would be just our luck if the cops show up.”

“We own the cops,” Adriano said.

“Yes, and priests never commit suicide, either,” Dario snapped. “Whoever paid these assholes might pay the police to fuck with us, too.”

“Understood,” Massimo said. He bent to pick up the priest as Adriano popped the Mercedes’ trunk.

“Come on,” Dario said as he took my hand.

“Where are we going?” I asked fearfully.

“Where do you think?” he snapped as he pulled me towards the Bugatti.

Once we were both inside the sports car, he started the engine and backed into the street.

“Dario ” I whispered.

“Don’t,” he snarled without looking at me.

“But ”

He turned and glared at me, his eyes furious.

“…thank you for saving me,” I whispered.

He stared at me for a second longer, then turned back to the road.

Neither he nor I said another word on the way back to the mansion.

Dario

At first I felt only relief that Alessandra was safe.

Soon after that, I became furious with her for disobeying me

But I put it aside.

There were more important things to worry about.

Two days ago, we had intercepted a spy in our territory. Lars had gunned him down at Alessandra’s cafe, but we still didn’t know what he was doing there in the first place.

Now I’d just found out there were two spies less than a mile away from my home

And one of them had been deep undercover as a priest.

Spies who had killed themselves rather than subject themselves to questioning…

…probably because they knew it would have involved torture, and that we would have eventually broken them.

But they could have just told us. I would have let them live even paid them if they’d ratted out their employers.

But instead, they chose suicide over betrayal.

Who the hell amongst our enemies could command that kind of loyalty?!

I wasn’t even certain the men in our organization would die for my family. Not like that.

The only ones I was sure about were my brothers and Lars.

Who was this phantom adversary who stalked our every move?

And what was his plan?