When He Takes: A Dark Mafia Romance (Fallen God Book 2)

I’m caught in a storm of chaos and gunfire.

One minute, I’m jotting down the addresses of the warehouses while Maksim and the pakhan talk about something in Russian, and the next, Gino Ferraro’s men are storming my living room.

I snatch my gun off the coffee table and hurl myself over the back of the sofa.

“You motherfucker!” the pakhan shouts. “Kill him, Maks!”

A body crashes into me.

Maksim.

I roll, kicking out with my leg and connecting with Maksim’s chest. He stumbles backward, then lunges again, throwing a punch, but I block it and counter with one of my own.

Maksim falls to the ground. Blood drips out of his nose and murder burns in his furious eyes. He scrambles behind an armchair, his gun cocked and ready.

I press my back against the wall, peeking out around the corner.

Gino’s men have taken down two of the guards, but the remaining two are holed up behind the kitchen island with the pakhan.

Gino’s guys can handle it. I need to finish off Maksim and get to Blake.

She must have found a way to let the Ferraro men inside. Smart girl.

A mix of pride and anger churns in my gut. I’m proud that she pulled it off, angry that she took such a risk.

That wasn’t her job. The whole time the pakhan was talking, I was thinking about how to get her far from here. Turns out, she had a plan of her own. Spilling the coffee on herself was a brilliant idea.

I thought maybe without her in the room, I could try to attack the pakhan, but I didn’t want to risk failing to kill them all. If I’d gotten myself killed, Blake would’ve been left alone.

They wouldn’t have spared her.

Hold on. Where the fuck is Ekaterina?

I scan the room, but in the chaos and smoke, it’s hard to make anything out. A bullet grazes my arm—a reminder that I’ve taken my eyes off Maksim for too long. The adrenaline coursing through me dulls the pain.

I aim and fire, but the bastard dodges just in time.

I need to end this. Now.

Crouching low, I weave through the furniture, closing in on Maksim.

I tackle him to the ground, making him drop his gun, but the fucker swings a hard punch at me, and his fist connects with my jaw. The impact forces me off him.

By the time I’m back on my feet, he’s armed once again, but I don’t give him the chance to aim. I grab his wrist and twist, forcing the gun skyward.

“You cocksucker,” he spits, saliva spraying from his mouth.

I smile.

He pulls the trigger and fires into the ceiling. I twist his wrist harder until it snaps and the gun falls into my hand.

I don’t hesitate. The next bullet rips through his kneecap, and he collapses with a scream that pierces the air.

“Fuck! Stop! I can help you!”

I shoot his other kneecap.

“Let me talk to Gino,” he wheezes, desperation seeping into his voice. “I have information he’ll want.”

I crouch down, gripping his chin. “I don’t give a fuck what Gino wants.”

Fear washes over Maksim’s face.

“You signed your death warrant the moment you made a move on my wife,” I whisper. If I had more time, I’d play with him a little, but I need to check on Blake.

The next bullet pierces his heart.

He slumps to the ground, eyes wide and lifeless.

Good fucking riddance.

“Nero! You all right?”

I whip around to see Alessio charging into the living room, a machine gun in hand.

My eyes widen. I like his style. “I’m fine!”

He points it at the kitchen island and unloads a full clip, covering one of the Ferraro guys as he runs around the other side to get a clean shot at the cowering pakhan.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, it stops. The silence that follows is almost as jarring as the gunfire.

My ears are ringing, my shirt’s drenched in sweat and blood, and the room is a wreck, but I’m still here.

I’ve got to find Blake.

I race through the penthouse, throwing open every door I pass until I reach her bedroom. It’s locked.

“Blake!”

Silence.

I start ramming my good arm into the door, putting all my weight behind it.

“Blake! It’s me!”

Why isn’t she answering? Maybe she’s panicking. Damn it. I’ve got to get to her.

On the next hit, the door bursts open. I scan the empty room in a frenzy before my eyes lock on the bathroom door. It’s locked too.

“Blake! Sunshine, open up!”

I yank out my gun and aim it at the handle, but a split second before pulling the trigger, I hesitate. What if she’s just on the other side?

Fuck, I can’t risk it. The gun goes back behind my belt, and I throw myself at the door again and again, but the fucker’s tougher than the last one.

“Move,” a voice grunts behind me. Alessio barrels past, ramming his shoulder into the door with force.

“Together,” I growl. “Three, two, one.”

Our combined weight slams into the door. It crashes open with a splintering crack. The momentum propels me inside, and I stumble past the bodies on the floor.

One of them is Ekaterina. And the other…

My breath catches. The world around me narrows to a pinpoint.

No.

No.

I collapse to my knees beside Blake’s lifeless form.

Blood. There’s so much blood.

“Fuck. Fuck!” I tear off my shirt and press it hard against the wound in her abdomen. The fabric is soaked through instantly.

Alessio appears across from me, his hand reaching out—

“DON’T TOUCH HER!” I roar.

His gray eyes lock onto mine. “I’m going to check her pulse. Keep the pressure on the wound.”

I’m trembling, my breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps. How did it come to this? How did I let this happen? My mind is racing, spiraling with guilt and helplessness. I should have been here. I should have protected her like I swore to her I would.

Alessio’s fingers press against her neck, his expression unreadable as he waits for something—anything.

“Her pulse is there, but it’s weak. We need to get her help now.” He digs inside his jacket for his phone, and his voice is clipped as he makes the call. “We need the medical team here, immediately.”

I can’t tear my eyes away from Blake. She’s so still, so pale. I can feel her slipping away, and no matter how hard I press against the wound, the blood keeps coming, seeping through my fingers like sand slipping through an hourglass.

I’m the one who dragged her into this. I failed her. She needed me, and I wasn’t here.

Alessio barks more orders into the phone, but his voice fades into the background. All I can hear is the pounding of my own heart, the echo of my failure, and the shallow, fragile breaths coming from the woman I love.

“Nero, you need to calm down,” Alessio snaps, pulling me away from the wide-eyed medic, who doesn’t waste a second before bolting down the hall. “They’re going to kick you out if you keep harassing everyone who comes out that door.”

“It’s been two hours.”

Two hours of not knowing if Blake is alive or dead. Two hours of replaying everything that happened, trying to pinpoint where I went wrong.

I can’t stand this. I’m going to go insane.

“They’re still operating on her—”

I shove Alessio against the nearest wall, pressing my forearm against his neck. “I need to see her. I need to know she’s alive.”

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t push back. Just stares at me with an emotion I didn’t think he had the capacity to feel—pity.

I let go of him. “Gino never should have sent his team in.”

Alessio lowers his voice. “If he hadn’t, the pakhan might’ve killed you the moment he got what he wanted. That’s why we were prepared to move on him as soon as you arrived at his location in the original plan. But then it all went sideways. If Blake hadn’t called us, you might be dead right now.”

“Do you think I—”

“And then they would have killed her too.”

I squeeze my fists tightly. He’s right, but I still want to argue and scream.

I’ve never felt so out of control, so beyond patience and reason.

“I know you want to blame someone, but sometimes, shit just happens. You know that as well as I do.”

Blake shot Ekaterina eight times. The cleanup crew told Alessio it looked like Ekaterina had been hit on the back of the head too, meaning she and Blake fought.

How scared was my beautiful wife in that moment? How scared and how fucking brave?

She’s stronger than she realizes, but she should never have been in a situation where she had to be that strong.

“Sit down.” Alessio puts his hand on my shoulder.

I’ve got to give it to the guy. He’s got balls to be touching me when I’m like this.

I shrug him off and pace to the other side of the waiting area, closer to the doors where nurses and doctors filter in and out. Above the doors is a clock.

The minutes tick by. I watch the hands move and try to remember to keep breathing.

Please be okay.

A doctor comes out and walks toward us.

I meet him halfway. “I’m Nero De Luca. Blake De Luca’s husband. Do you have any news?”

The doctor—a dark-haired woman about my age—gives me a sympathetic smile. “Hello, Mr. De Luca. She’s out of surgery, but she’s in critical condition. We’re doing everything we can to stabilize her right now. The bullet nicked a major blood vessel in her abdomen. She lost a lot of blood. We’ve repaired the damage and are now restoring her blood volume through transfusions. The next twenty-four hours will be crucial,” she says gently, as if trying to cushion the blow of her words.

My chest tightens at the news, but a flicker of hope ignites inside me. She’s alive. There’s still a chance she’ll make it through this.

“Can I see her?”

The doctor nods. “Yes, but only for a few minutes. She’s still unconscious. Follow me.”

My heart pounds as I trail behind the doctor through a maze of corridors. We finally reach a room with a glass window, and I see Blake lying on the hospital bed, hooked up to machines and tubes.

My lungs still. She’s so horribly pale against the stark-white sheets.

The doctor opens the door and says something, but her words don’t register. My legs feel like lead as I approach Blake, each step heavy with dread.

Hand trembling, I reach out to touch her. Her skin is cold, but the faint rise and fall of her chest tells me she’s still breathing.

“I’ll be back in five minutes,” the doctor says, excusing herself from the room.

I pull up a chair beside the bed and take Blake’s hand in mine, pressing it gently to my lips. ‘You’re going to be okay, Sunshine. You can get through this. I know you can.”

She doesn’t react. Not even a twitch.

My vision blurs.

This is all your fault.

Memories of our time together flood my mind, each one more vivid than the last. I see her the day I moved in—her hands on her hips as she chastised me for leaving my trash on the front lawn. Her eyes were bright with that mix of exasperation and anger she always had when I pushed her buttons. Fuck, how those eyes got under my skin.

I remember the lazy afternoons in Darkwater Hollow, the sunlight filtering through the window as we sat on the sofa, her head resting on my shoulder as we watched movies and talked about nothing. There was peace in those moments, a sense of rightness that I’d never known before. She had a way of making the world feel softer, like it wasn’t such a harsh place after all.

And then there was Christmas, just weeks ago. I can still see the way her eyes widened when she opened the envelope, the one that held the lease to her bookshop. I knew I’d nailed her present when she started tearing up. The way she’d looked at me then, awed and so fucking happy, made my heart swell with a love so deep it hurt.

But then the other memories surface, the ones that cut deep. I remember every tear she shed because of me, because of this life I dragged her into. All the times she told me she wanted to leave. All the times I refused to even consider it because of my stubborn conviction that she’d be safe with me. That she’d eventually embrace all of this.

Did I blind myself to the possibility that maybe—just maybe—she’d have been safer and happier without me? That all my promises of protection were nothing more than hollow words in a world where there are no guarantees?

A world she didn’t choose. A world I dragged her into, kicking and screaming.

And now here she is, fighting for her life in a hospital bed.

She will never be truly safe with me.

It’s one thing to choose this life with your eyes wide open, the way my mom did, deciding that the man she loved was worth the risk.

But Blake didn’t choose this.

Her words ring in my ears. ‘Sometimes, I wake up in the morning and feel like I’m drowning. I have no agency, no autonomy. You forced me to marry you. You forced me into this world, and even after weeks of trying to make it here, I still don’t know how to.’

How could I have done this to her, the person I love most?

I don’t know. But I do know that I can’t do it anymore.

If she makes it through this, I have to let her go.