The Mafia's Beast Of A Lover
The Mafia's Beast Of A Lover
That same night, the two families returned to their own grounds under a clear, cold sky. The King’s Gold convoy rolled back through the gates of the Rossi estate in disciplined silence.
Across the city, the Red Cobras returned to the Cimaro compound. Gabriella and Andre parted at the edge of their respective territories without argument. Each still had one final matter to settle inside their own house.
In the grand main hall of the Rossi mansion, a long feast had been laid out with deliberate extravagance. Heavy tables stretched the length of the room, covered in roasted meats still glistening with juices, loaves of fresh bread, wheels of cheese, bowls of dark fruit, and bottle after bottle of the finest wine the cellars could offer. Every remaining member of the King’s Knights was present, and it was just them. No other members of the King's Gold army were present. Just the Knights.
Candlelight flickered against polished wood and crystal. The air smelled of rich food, wax, and the faint metallic edge of men who had spent the day in violence. Conversation rolled through the hall in low, satisfied waves.
At the head of the room stood a smaller table with two high-backed chairs—one for Gabriella, one for Lancelot. Gabriella rose, lifted a silver fork, and struck it once against the side of her wine glass. The clear note cut through the noise. Voices died. Every eye turned to her.
She raised her glass.
“You are the finest warriors this family has ever produced,” she began, her voice steady and carrying.
“My father founded your order because he believed that true strength, bound by loyalty, could shape an empire that would outlast any single Capo. Without you, none of what we have accomplished these past days would have been possible. You stood with me when the old order tried to erase me and you made me your queen. You are heroes. You are friends. Tonight, I toast to everything we will build together in the years ahead—to the Queen’s Knights.”
Glasses rose across the hall. Voices answered her in a single rough chorus. Everyone gulped down on their red nectar in joy and exuberance. Even Lancelot drank. The Knights settled into their seats and began to eat with the easy confidence of men who believed the war was finally over.
Lancelot turned toward Gabriella. He had not yet touched his plate. His voice was quiet, almost reflective.
“We made the right choice when we pledged ourselves to you. The old Queen had lost the path. You gave us a future worth serving.”
Gabriella leaned in slightly so that only he could hear the words that followed. Her tone remained soft, almost intimate, but every syllable was precise.
“I know I never truly earned your loyalty,” she said. “Because it was never there to be earned in the first place. Your own men tried to kill me once already. I know they would have tried again the moment I became inconvenient. I’ve already made certain they never get that chance.”
Lancelot’s brow furrowed. Around the long tables, the first Knight coughed—sharp, sudden. Then another. Within seconds, the sound spread like a wave: choking, heaving, chairs scraping back as men clutched at their chests and throats.
Wine glasses toppled. Silverware clattered. Chairs no longer stood but fell. Lancelot stared at her, the realization breaking across his face.
“What have you done?”
“I've secured my position by destroying my enemy,” Gabriella answered without raising her voice.
She drew a small glass vial from the inner pocket of her jacket, uncorked it, and drank the contents in one clean swallow. “Now none of you can ever take what is mine.”
One by one, the Knights collapsed. Bodies hit the floor. Coughing turned to the wet sounds of blood bursting from their mouths, noses, and even their eyes. Lancelot dropped to his knees, then to the polished wood. With the last of his strength, he forced the words out between ragged breaths.
“Coward… using a coward’s weapon…”
Gabriella looked down at him, expression unchanged. “Goodbye, Lancelot. Say hi to my mother for me.”
He coughed once more, dark blood spilling across the floorboards, and went still. Around him, every single Knight lay dead in the ruin of the feast.
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Across the city, Andre stood alone on the wide stone terrace of the Cimaro mansion, face tilted toward the clear night sky. Stars burned cold and distant above the dark shapes of the estate trees. The air was sharp with the scent of cut grass and distant water.
He looked calm, despite knowing what was happening on the other side of town. Then, his phone rang. Gabriella’s name lit the screen.
He answered on the first ring, voice low and expectant. “Is it done?”
“Yes,” she said. The single word carried the weight of the entire hall she had just left. “It’s done.”
A genuine, almost admiring laugh left him. “Bravado and decisiveness. I always knew you had both in you.”
He paused, the edge of satisfaction softening into something warmer. “All our enemies are gone. The board is clear. Maybe it’s finally time we finished the wedding we never got to complete.”
“I would like nothing else in this world,” Gabriella answered.
“I can’t wait to see you... And rip all your clothes off.”
"You won't have to rip them off," she answered in a voice that sounded like that of a vixen. "I won't be wearing any to begin with."
"Hmmm. Such a beast!"
He took a deep eager breath and ended the call, looked up at the stars one last time with a quiet, private smile, then turned and walked back through the tall glass doors into the house.
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On the dark hill that overlooked the Cimaro estate, Lucy Bryson lowered a pair of high-powered binoculars. She had watched Andre step inside and close the door behind him.
The night wind moved through the long grass around her boots, cool against her ankles. She stood in silence for a moment, then spoke softly to the empty dark, the words meant only for herself.
“Enjoy your victory while you still have it, Cimaro. One day, I’ll come for you. And when I do, I’ll make you pay for every single thing you’ve done.”
THE END...?
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Author's Note: Yes, it's the end. Don't be expecting a second book. I'm not writing it. Or maybe I... No, no, no. I'm not.
This one was a chore of its own. I'm so glad it's done. Make sure to leave great comments. Bye!