Page 111 of The Mafia Marriage Contract

His presence consumes everything around us. He’s here, and nothing will stand in his way.

“I don’t give a fuck who you think you are or what fucking orders you have. You’re in my territory now,” he says. “And I’d advise you to take your fucking hands off my wife.”

With a chilling slow step, the unmasked man moves behind me, his arm hooking around my neck and his gun jabbing my belly.

“Now, now, Kingston,” the unmasked man taunts. “She came to me with a death wish. Who am I to ignore that?”

Kingston glares at him, the mask of control slipping for the first time in front of me. The look in his eyes is something I’ve never seen—raw, helpless maybe.

His jaw tightens, his features twisting, a shadow of violence I’ve always known was there, but now it’s something to fear.

“Step the fuck away from her.” Kingston’s voice is a deep snarl. “Let her go now, or I will make sure that bullet in your gun will be the last one you ever fire.”

Kingston’s body vibrates with the promise of violence, but it’s not enough to make the man release me.

So I stamp my foot down on his, my knees bending on instinct, my body dropping low. While adrenaline pumps faster, a blistering pain bursts through my shoulder like a red-hot poker.

The world around me spins, the crack of gunfire distant as if it came from another world.

My lungs cramp as the fire in myshoulder explodes, and then everything starts to blur. My body becomes heavy, unresponsive, like I'm floating just outside myself.

The pain is unbearable, a surging wave that makes me want to puke. A warmth pools against my skin, and when I strain to look, blood hemorrhages through the fabric.

Everything seems so far away now and my eyelids struggle to stay open, my mind sinking into the darkness.

The sounds around me are muffled and distorted. Kingston’s deep voice breaks through the fog, but it’s fading too.

I try to reach for him, to hold on, but my arm won’t respond and I don’t know how much longer I can fight.

Kingston collapses beside me, hands trembling as he cups my face, his voice raw, like it’s torn from his throat.

“No… no, Livvie. Jesus fuck, baby. Stay with me, please,” he begs, his voice cracking.

His fingers press against the blood soaking through my hoodie, but he’s frantic, unable to stop the panic from flooding him.

“Look at me, princess. Please… I need you to stay with me.”

His eyes water with the horror of it all, and as my own flutter closed, I realize he loves me, too.

“I’d die for ya, King?—”

34

KINGSTON

The bullet hits Livvie and time, as well as my heart, fucking stops.

The gunshot echoes across the pier like a clap of thunder, and all I see is my wife crumpling to the concrete, blood soaking into the fabric of her hoodie.

"Livvie!" I yell.

I’m running before her body hits the ground, but Bronx is faster. His rifle cracks twice, and the masked fucker's head explodes like a watermelon. Blood and brain matter spray across the concrete, painting it red.

The other bastard still has his arm around Livvie's neck, using her limp body as a shield. Blood pours from her shoulder, so much fucking blood, and her eyes roll back in her head.

"Drop your weapons or she bleeds out," he shouts, pressing his gun to her temple.

Wrong fucking move.