Page 33 of Mafia Prince's Secret Baby

“I haven’t touched anything,” I say, motioning toward the boxes. “Konstantin, document everything. I want every detail recorded. No screw-ups.”

Konstantin nods, pulling gloves and a camera from his bag. He tosses me a pair of gloves, and I snap them on, already bracing myself. Aleks and I exchange a grim look before kneeling beside the first box.

“Ready?” I ask.

Aleks nods. “On three.”

“One… two…”

On three, we lift the lid.

The stench hits first, sharp and metallic, making my stomach lurch. Blood pools at the bottom of the box, thick and dark. On top of it all is a mangled mass of flesh and fur.

“Is that…” I squint, bile rising in my throat. “A rat?”

Aleks leans closer, his expression hard. “Big fucking dead rat,” he mutters.

He pokes at the remains, revealing shards of glass scattered through the bloody mess. My stomach churns, but I lock it down.

“Shards of glass,” I say, my voice grim. “This isn’t random.”

“Check the next box,” Konstantin calls from a few feet away, his camera trained on us.

Aleks moves to the second box, lifts the lid—and freezes. His entire body goes still, but the fury simmering just beneath the surface is unmistakable.

“What the fuck is it?” I ask, stepping closer.

Aleks doesn’t answer. He reaches inside and pulls out something dark, matted with blood. My stomach drops when I see the torn, familiar leather.

A collar.

“Is that?—”

“My dog,” Aleks grits out, his voice razor-sharp, his knuckles white around the bloodied leather. “What’s left of her.”

The air shifts, heavy with unspoken rage. I force myself to look into the box—the heap of blood is unrecognizable, shredded fur and torn flesh. But the collar? There’s no mistaking it.

“Fuck,” I mutter, shaking my head. This isn’t just a warning—it’s personal.

Aleks steps back, his fists clenched, his breathing ragged.

“She was a gift,” he says, his voice breaking with barely contained fury. “They killed her like she was nothing. Likeshedidn’t matter.”

And that’s when Konstantin decides to open his mouth. “Well, at least they didn’t leave the whole dog. That would’ve been a bigger mess to clean?—”

Aleks snaps.

In the blink of an eye, he’s got Konstantin by the collar, slamming him into the wall hard enough to rattle the frame.

“How dare you,” Aleks snarls, his voice low and venomous. “That dog meant more to me than your worthless ass ever will.”

Konstantin sputters something, but Aleks doesn’t let him finish. His fist flies, connecting with Konstantin’s jaw, followed by another punch. And another.

“Aleks!” I bark, my voice cutting through the chaos. “Enough!”

His punches slow, but the rage burning in his eyes doesn’t fade. With one final shove, he lets Konstantin drop to the floor, a bloodied mess.

“She’s dead,” Aleks spits, his chest heaving. “She’s dead, you asshole.”