Devil’s Lily: A Dark Mafia Romance (Nightshades Book 1)

“For fuck’s sake, can this fucking thing move any slower?” I grouch, gripping the steering wheel tight as we follow the RV carrying the girls to the private airstrip where Yuto’s jet is waiting to take them home. But at this pace, we might as well walk.

Dante’s low chuckle beside me grates on my nerves. “Wow, I never thought I’d see the day when you’re actually eager to go back home. Elira has you wrapped up around her finger.”

I grunt, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a proper response. Instead, I check the time on my watch for the umpteenth time. There’s no point denying what is so glaringly obvious—my little wife has me all twisted up inside for her. When this all started, could never have imagined her having an effect like this one me, but now… I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything.

With a sharp exhale, I unlock my phone and call Perro, who’s driving the sluggish RV. “Even a snail would leave you in the dust. Speed up.”

“Yes sir.” The vehicle lurches forward, and I can feel my muscles unclenching fractionally. Good.

Minutes later, we pull up onto the airstrip and drive down the tarmac, parking a few feet away from the medium-sized jet. As my men and I get out of our cars, Dante and a few others quickly guide the girls into a single file towards the jet’s stairs.

Out of the corner of my eye, one of the girls breaks away from the others. It’s Sachiko. She approaches me timidly, clutching something in her hands. I crouch to her level, meeting her wide, earnest eyes, and she wraps her arms around my neck in a quick hug.

“Thank you,” she says sweetly, then holds out what looks like wilted green wool. “I made this for you.”

I smile as I accept it, lifting it up into the lights for a better view, but I still can’t make out what the green mess is supposed to be. “What exactly is this?”

“A four-leaf clover! For good luck. I knitted it myself.” Her face lights up with pride. Huh. Now that she’s said it, I can kind of see it—if I use my imagination.

“Wow, thank you, Sachiko. It’s perfect,” I pocket the improvised charm and offer a high five. Her tiny palm slaps mine, her infectious grin stretching impossibly wider.

But just as she turns to head for the jet⁠—

CRACK.

A gunshot.

No time to think. Pure instinct takes over. I tackle Sachiko to the ground, my body a human shield, covering her completely as one gunshot turns to two, to three, and then multiple shots in rapid succession.

“Stay down!” I bark, the words practically torn from my throat. Around us, my men are shouting, firing back, or worse—falling. The thuds of bodies hitting the tarmac echo like a drumbeat of hell.

Fuck.

Sachiko’s small body trembles beneath me. “W–what’s happening?” she whimpers, and I glance down at her tear-stricken face.

I keep my voice steady, even as adrenaline roars through my veins. “Nothing you need to worry about. We’re getting you on that plane. You’re going home. But you have to listen to me, okay?”

Her teary nod is the only answer I need. I scan the wide-open space. Whoever’s shooting at us has the upper hand. Shots seem to be coming from everywhere, and we’re just out here exposed—like fucking fish in a barrel.

We need to move. Now.

Slowly, I get onto all fours. “Get to your knees and crawl. Fast as you can. Stay low and don’t stop,” I command her.

She obeys instantly, and I crawl over her, guarding her from any stray bullets. My remaining men are trying their best to fight back, but we’re losing ground fast, and I can’t tell if we’re hitting any of those fuckers shooting at us. These aren’t random shots. This is coordinated. Planned.

Professional.

My mind races through potential threats. Who? Why now? Right when the girls are about to leave?

A bullet sparks off the ground inches from my head. I don’t flinch. Can’t afford to.

“Faster,” I tell Sachiko, and she whimpers but picks up speed. Thankfully, the other girls are in the jet already, so I don’t have to worry about them.

Halfway to the plane, the asphalt starts to tear at my knees and palms, but the pain barely registers. The screams of my men falling drown out everything else.

Shit, I hope she can make it.

Another bullet hits the ground we were just at, and I curse under my breath, snatching Sachiko up. No more subtle approach. We’re targets now.

I shield her with my back and shoulders, pushing through the searing pain in my knees as I run for the jet stairs. Then up we go, taking them two at a time.

Almost there. We’re going to make it.

But just as I get to the top, a bullet hits my arm. Fuck. Pain tears through me, but I grit my teeth and keep moving, staggering into the jet with Sachiko still clutched to me.

I set her down. “Get in a seat and buckle up.”

But she’s frozen, her wide eyes locked on the blood pouring from my left arm. “B–blood…”

“Seat. Now!” I snap, and she finally scrambles to a seat.

Then I spin towards the pale flight attendant trembling near the cockpit. “Close the doors behind me and tell the pilot to take off immediately!” She nods, and I quickly take my gun out of the small of my back as I descend back down the stairs, my arm throbbing with every step.

The shooting has stopped and more than ten of my men are lying on the floor. Dead.

“Fuck.” My curse is swallowed by the fans whirring to life—slowly at first, then gaining speed until the sound grows into a roar.

I move away from the jet as it begins to taxi down the runway. Good. At least the girls are safe. Staying on high alert, I make my way down the tarmac towards our cars, where the rest of my men are huddled, using them as cover.

As I stop in front of the first SUV, movement catches my eye—shadows emerging from the edge of the airport. Men with guns.

I stay still, watching as they approach us. My gaze locks on the woman leading the group. Something about her is so achingly familiar.

She steps into a sliver of light, and the breath is ripped from my lungs. No. Fucking. Way.

Brown hair pulled in a bun, and a face I know all too well.

She lifts a grenade, her fingers dancing over it with a calmness that makes my blood run cold, her light brown eyes cold as winter as they pin me in place. “Are you into the trading of humans now, Maximo? Little girls?”

“Emily,” I breathe, stunned.

She shakes her head slowly, clicking her tongue against her teeth. “When are you and the others going to stop? Drugs. Weapons. Murders. And now little girls?”

I don’t bother to correct her. There’s no time for words. I start striding towards her quickly, ignoring the sound of the men behind her cocking their guns at me. Let them shoot. She’s going to hear me out, one way or another. But just before I reach her, she yanks the pin from the grenade and tosses it on the floor towards me.

My heart stops, my jaw dropping as I watch her hard face. Is this how I die? At the hands of a woman I consider my sorellina?

The grenade rolls past my feet, but instead of an explosion, it lets out an ominous hiss and white smoke spills out, curling and spreading fast. Sedatives? No. Just normal smoke.

Before I can react, three more grenades are hurled towards me and my men, releasing an avalanche of smoke. The haze wraps around me, suffocating, clinging, blinding. I can’t see Emily. Hell, I can’t even see my own damn hands.

Goddammit.

“Emily!” I shout, coughing as I push through the smoke. My steps are clumsy, the sting in my arm worsening with every move. I reach where she stood moments ago, but it’s empty. Nothing but the ghost of her presence and a bitter chill in my chest.

She and her men are gone. What the hell? Why would Emily come to the city and shoot at me? Has she been in cahoots with the people messing with our business?

My arm throbs sharply, and I groan, taking off my jacket to tie it around my bleeding arm. The fabric darkens as blood seeps through, but it’s not the worst of my concerns.

What the hell are you playing at, Emily? Have you really turned against us?

The shrill ring of my phone distracts me from my thoughts, and I take it out, frowning when I see the call is from my father-in-law. “Afrim.”

“I heard a private jet landed from Japan this evening. Have you seen the girls off?” he asks and my frown deepens. How the fuck does he already know about the jet?

I clench my jaw. “I’m a little busy right now. We were ambushed trying to get them out. My men and I need time to regroup. I’ll call you later.”

“Wait!” Afrim’s sharp tone stops me. “I found out who’s the mastermind behind their kidnapping. It pains me to admit it, but it was Gjon, my very own second-in-command. He’s been acting suspicious the past few days, and—” The words blur into background noise as my ears pop. Footsteps crunch on the tarmac behind me. I pivot, gun raised..

It’s just Dante.

I lower the weapon with a slow exhale and signal for him to hold. “Listen, I’m glad you found the fucker, Afrim, and I trust you’ll deal with him appropriately, but I have shit to deal with here.” As I end the call with Afrim, my phone immediately starts ringing again.

Marco.

Ice fills my veins, and my spine stiffens with a bone-deep sense of dark déjà vu. Something is wrong. “Marco, what is⁠—“

“Elira is missing!”

The world stops spinning. My heart stops beating. Everything narrows down to those three words. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“She was in the kitchen making dinner when the fire alarm went off on the 9th and 12th floors. The men all ran to check it out, so I went out the door to stand guard. But then I noticed the stairwell door was open. When I went to investigate it, something hit me from behind, and I blacked out. When I woke up, I immediately ran into the apartment, but she was gone.”

“Check the cameras. Who took her?” I ask calmly, even though I’m anything but calm. I need my wits about me if we’re going to find her quickly.

“I already did. The feeds were tampered with; someone glitched the cameras to cover their tracks and⁠—”

“Find her!” I roar, my nerves unraveling at the fact that we know nothing. “I don’t give a fuck what you have to do. Find her. Now!”

This feels too goddamn familiar—a repeat of the missing shipment. Except this time, it’s Elira. And I refuse to let her stay missing for longer than a few hours.

“If something happens to her—” My throat locks up, and I’m unable to complete the threat, but he gets my point.

I hang up and immediately hit the number two on my speed dial. I need reinforcement, and I’ll call it all in if I have to.

“Well, well, to what do I–”

“Michael, someone hacked the cameras in my apartment and took my wife. I need you to get into those feeds and find out who it was and where they took her.”

He’s the best fucking hacker in the States, having hacked into NASA and several government systems like they were kids’ puzzles. If anyone can recover the missing feeds, it’s him.

“Fuck. What? Hold on.” His tone becomes serious and clothes rustle on his end of the call as he moves around. A feminine voice says something I can’t hear, and he responds with a cold, “Get the hell out of here. Now.”

I start pacing impatiently, toes digging into my shoes as I walk. A door slams on his end, followed by the rapid click-clack of keys.

“I’m on it right now. I’m hacking into the cameras in your building and the public ones in the area. We’ll find her, fratello.”

I end the call, shove my hands into my hair, and let out an agonized roar.

Whoever took her better not touch a single curl on her head.

Because when I find them—and I will—I’m going to fucking peel the skin off their flesh, scoop out their eyes with a spoon, and make them choke on their own screams before cutting their doomed life short.