The Mafia's Obsession: Obey, Kneel, Submit

TRIGGER WARNING:

This scene contains extremely graphic violence, torture, brutal language, and emotional abuse. It is intended for mature readers only. Do not proceed if you are sensitive to explicit content.

"Fuck! Deeper," Dominic muttered huskily, to one of his girls, bored, like he was asking for coffee. She gagged. He didn't care.

He pushed her head down farther until her nose was buried in his crotch and she started choking for real, tears spilling over her cheeks.

"That's it. Cry on it." He smirked. "Fucking look at you. Ruined before I've even cum." She moaned around him, and he felt it vibrate down to his balls. Still, he didn't move. Didn't fuck her face. Didn't moan. He just watched the screen.

Then froze. A message. One line. The file's gone. Diego took it. Dominic's expression didn't change. He didn't flinch. He just tossed the phone on the table and let his fingers tighten in her hair.

"You know what?" he muttered. He shoved her off his cock. She fell back with a wet gasp, her face a mess of spit and precum.

He stood. Unbuttoned his shirt like she wasn't still on her knees begging with her eyes. Then he bent her over the desk.

No words. No warning. Just grabbed his cock, lined it up, and shoved it into her soaking cunt with one brutal thrust.

She screamed. Loud. High. Her nails scraped the desk. He slammed into her again. And again. And again. No rhythm. Just punishment.

Her pussy clamped down like it was trying to keep him in. He reached around and slapped her tits. Hard. They bounced with every thrust. "You wanted to suck cock?" he growled.

"Now take it like a whore. This is all you're good for." He gripped her throat. Bent down. His mouth was at her ear.

"You're just a place for me to dump my cum." She cried out again. But he wasn't even fucking her for pleasure anymore. He was fucking her to get rid of the rage. He slammed in one last time and held there, grinding deep.

Her legs twitched. Her body trembled. Then he came. Flooded her pussy in thick, furious spurts that made her cry. He didn't move. Just breathed. Then looked at his watch.

"Fuck," he muttered. He pulled out. Cum dripped down her thighs, pooling on the floor.

"Get the fuck off my desk." She whimpered, her body shaking, her pussy red and raw, dripping with everything he'd poured into her. Dominic didn't look at her again.

He buttoned his pants. Grabbed his gun. Tucked a blade into his jacket. Lit a cigarette with blood still pounding behind his eyes.

He exhaled smoke. "Fucking Diego."

***

"DO NOT FUCKING PLAY WITH ME, DIEGO!"

Dominic Valenzo's roar cracked through the alleyway as even the rats in the gutter froze. He stepped forward, jaw clenched so hard it looked carved from stone.

"WHERE THE HELL IS MY MONEY?!"

Before Diego could even blink, Dominic's fist swung as His knuckles collided with Diego's jaw.

Blood sprayed from Diego's lips in a dark arc, splattering across the alley wall. His body dropped like trash. He didn't groan. Didn't move.

But Dominic wasn't done. Not even close.

"You're gonna fucking listen to me now," he growled, stalking over the crumpled body of the man he once called brother. The man he raised from filth. The man who now lay twitching in blood and betrayal.

Dominic grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the freezing brick. Diego's skull bounced off it with a rough sound. His legs dangled. Blood dribbled from his mouth.

"You thieving little fuck," Dominic spat.

"YOU THINK YOU COULD STEAL FROM ME AND FUCKING LIVE?!"

Diego's mouth moved, trembled with pain, but nothing coherent came out. Just garbled breaths and spit and something like "Dom..."

"SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!" Dominic's hand cracked across Diego's cheek, as Diego's head snapped sideways, leaving a smear of blood on the bricks.

"You don't get to say my name," Dominic hissed. "You don't deserve my fucking name."

"I... I didn't have a choice..." Diego croaked. "They... they came for me. They threatened my daughter..."

Dominic paused. His nostrils flared. For a second..just a second...there was silence. Then..

He laughed.

Not the kind of laugh that carried warmth. It was cold. Unforgiving. A sound that belonged to something inhuman.

"Oh," Dominic whispered, tilting his head like a predator toying with dying prey. "Now you want to play the fucking father? Now you're the victim?"

He leaned in so close Diego could feel the heat of his breath on his bleeding lips.

"Non hai una figlia. Sei solo un bugiardo."

[You don't have a daughter. You're just a fucking liar.]

Diego's eyes widened. His pupils dilated. His soul flickered. No words came. No defense.

Dominic shoved him down like he was nothing but waste.

"You didn't just steal from me," he said, voice sinking into a low growl. "You took a file. My file. The one that could tear everything I built down to the fucking roots. You gave it to the enemy."

Blood pooled underneath Diego's ribs. His breathing rattled like a punctured lung. "They said they'd kill me... I didn't know what to do..."

"YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO DIE FOR ME!" Dominic roared, chest heaving with rage. "YOU SWORE TO ME! YOU TOOK MY OATH. YOU DRANK MY BLOOD. YOU CALLED ME BROTHER!"

He dropped to a squat, crouching beside Diego's wrecked body with a smirk on his face. Pulled his gun. Let the cold steel barrel rest gently against Diego's cheek.

"I raised you," he whispered. "I fucking built you. I gave you purpose. I erased your past. Buried your sins."

The barrel moved to Diego's mouth.

"And now I'm going to bury you."

He shoved it inside.

"SEI MORTO NEL MOMENTO IN CUI HAI SCELTO DI TRADIRMI."

[You died the moment you chose to betray me.]

Diego whimpered around the gun, tears mixing with blood.

Dominic yanked it out...and smashed it across Diego's face.

"You were NOTHING before me. A twitchy junkie with no name. A fucking mutt. And I made you a man. A soldier. I gave you everything."

Another punch. Another scream. Another spatter of red on cold stone.

"You traded it for what?" Dominic seethed. "Coins? Promises? Did they whisper sweet nothings into your ear while stabbing me in the back?"

"I was scared!" Diego cried, voice strangled in pain. "They had guns! They knew things! I didn't know who to trust!"

"YOU TRUST ME!" Dominic exploded, fist driving into Diego's gut. Diego doubled over, gasping. "YOU TRUST THE MAN WHO TOOK YOU IN WHEN YOU HAD NOTHING. WHEN YOU WERE LESS THAN NOTHING!"

He dragged Diego up by the neck, choking him, lifting him until his feet scraped the concrete.

"YOU SOLD YOUR FUCKING SOUL TO ME!"

Dominic shoved the gun back in his mouth. Diego gagged. Gurgled.

"TI GUARDERÒ NEGLI OCCHI MENTRE TI TOGLIO L'ANIMA."

[I'm going to look you in the eyes while I rip your soul out.]

"You see this face?" Dominic snarled, leaning close. "The last face you'll ever fucking see is the one you betrayed."

He ripped the gun away, blood dripping from the barrel.

"E ADESSO, FIGLIO DI PUTTANA... PREGHIERAI CHE TI AMMAZZI."

[And now, son of a bitch... you're going to beg me to kill you.]

Dominic stood tall, towering like death itself as Diego writhed on the floor, coughing blood, fingers twitching.

Dominic took a breath. Cracked his neck. His shadow stretched long in the moonlight.

"You thought this would be quick?" he whispered with a slow smile. "Oh no, Diego. No, no, no. I want you to feel everything."

He kicked Diego in the stomach. The force lifted him an inch off the ground before slamming him back down. The sound was grotesque..wet as Diego howled.

Dominic crouched again and pulled something from his coat...his silver ring. The one he gave Diego a decade ago.

"I gave you this," Dominic murmured. "You cried when I slid it on your finger. Called me family."

He gripped Diego's hand. Yanked the ring off. Forced it against his lips.

"Swallow it," he whispered.

Diego shook his head, trembling violently.

Dominic punched him in the throat.

"SWALLOW IT, YOU FUCKING COWARD!"

Diego gasped, choking, the ring sliding down with a gulp.

Dominic watched him collapse again, coughing, retching, tears and bile leaking from his mouth. He smiled.

"You're gonna carry my name in your guts to the grave."

He pulled a switchblade from his pocket. Flicked it open. The metallic click echoed like a death toll.

"You're gonna wish I just shot you."

He dragged the blade across Diego's forearm. Not deep enough to kill...just enough to hurt. A lot. Diego screamed. Dominic did it again. And again.

Blood gushed. Diego sobbed.

"Tell me," Dominic whispered, voice eerily soft. "Did you scream like this when you gave them the file? Huh? Did you hesitate? Did you think of me? Or did it feel good?"

He slid the blade under Diego's eye, tip pressing into the thin skin just beneath his eye socket.

Diego sobbed. "I was wrong... please... I'll fix it... I'll get it back..."

Dominic's lip curled.

"No, Diego. You didn't make a mistake. You made a decision."

He yanked the blade back. Slammed the gun against Diego's forehead.

"TU HAI SCAVATO LA TUA FOSSA CON LE TUE MANI. ORA PREGA CHE IO NON CI SPUTI DENTRO PRIMA DI SEPPELLIRTI."

[You dug your grave with your own hands. Now pray I don't spit in it before I bury you.]

CLICK.

Trigger pulled halfway.

Diego stared at Dominic waiting for his death. Eyes swollen, mouth split, ribs caving in with every breath. He couldn't tell if he was breathing blood or air anymore. Everything tasted the same now. Metal. Regret. Ash.

Dominic's finger hovered just a breath away from ending it.

But he didn't pull.

He let it hang there.

Watched Diego flinch with every heartbeat. Let the silence eat him alive.

"You feel that?" Dominic murmured. His voice was low. So calm it made the devil retreat. "That space between life and death? That's where you live now. That's where rats belong."

He stood back up slowly. Clean, composed. His suit still pressed. His shoes barely touched by the blood seeping into the alley. He looked down at Diego like he wasn't human anymore. Like he was something that crawled out of a corpse and begged for scraps.

"I should kill you right now," he said. His voice cracked a little. Just a little. But it wasn't weakness. It was something worse. Disappointment. "I should put a bullet between your eyes and leave your body here for the crows to feast on. But you don't deserve to go that easy."

Diego whimpered. "Dom... please..."

Dominic crouched again and grabbed him by the hair. He yanked his head back until Diego's eyes locked with his. He didn't blink.

"You don't get to beg. You don't get to call me that. You lost that right the second you handed my future to those fucking snakes."

He pulled out the blade again. Dragged it gently down Diego's chest, slicing the fabric of his shirt open. The steel barely kissed the skin at first. Just enough to make the nerves scream. Then he pressed harder.

Blood seeped out in thin lines. Ribbons of red that stained the edges of the blade.

"I remember the day I found you," Dominic said. "Lying in your own piss, a needle in your arm, twitching in the dark like a dying animal. You looked up at me like I was God. Do you remember that?"

Diego nodded weakly, throat rattling.

Dominic carved a short line beneath his collarbone. Diego screamed. Dominic didn't blink.

"You cried when I took you in. Called me your brother. Told me you'd give your life for me. Swore you'd never betray the man who saved you."

His hand tightened on Diego's hair.

"And now look at you. On your knees. A traitor. A fucking disgrace. You handed over something that could destroy every man in this family. You let your fear outweigh your loyalty. That's not weakness, Diego. That's treason."

Dominic stared into his one working eye, that twitching, red-rimmed orb.

And then he did it.

He unzipped his pants.

Pulled himself out.

And pissed.

Right on him.

Diego tried to turn away, but Dominic grabbed his hair and held his head still.

"Take it," Dominic said coldly. "Fucking take it like the traitor you are."

The piss kept coming, flooding down Diego's chest, soaking his lap.

Dominic aimed higher.

He pissed into his face.

Eyes. Nose. Mouth.

Diego gagged, body convulsing.

Dominic's face was expressionless.

When the stream ended, he spit.

Then Dominic dropped him again.

He zipped up slowly, eyes never leaving Diego's. As he leaned down close, pressing his lips near his ear so he could taste every word.

"Adesso vaffanculo..." he whispered.

His tone turned ice.

"E saluta il diavolo da parte mia."

[Now fuck you... and say hi to the devil for me.]

Meanwhile, in the confined space of a hospital, twenty-three-year-old Dr. Isadora Bell had just clocked out after a grueling double shift at St. Meridan General.

She reached her locker in the residents' lounge, peeled off her stethoscope, and tossed it in with a sigh.

She ran a hand through her curls, eyes heavy, just as two interns...both fresh out of med school...poked their heads into the room.

"Dr. Bell," one of them said, nervous, clinging to a clipboard. "It's really coming down out there."

She glanced out the narrow hallway window. The sky looked like it had cracked open and the wind had picked up enough to rattle the glass.

Isadora exhaled and grabbed her hoodie off the chair.

"Y'all better head home," she said, voice soft as she turned to the interns that was with her. "This storm's only getting worse. Don't hang around waiting for anyone. Go. Get some rest."

But they didn't leave right away.

The taller one..Sanjay..shifted uncomfortably, chewing on the inside of his cheek. His partner, Alicia, glanced toward the window again and tightened her grip on the clipboard like it was a lifeline.

"Thing is..." Sanjay began, "we've got another consult. Room 402. Cardiology flagged it before the shift change."

Alicia cleared her throat. "We thought maybe you'd want to glance over it before we clock out. Patient's tachycardic. Labs are weird. Could be an electrolyte crash or something worse. We didn't want to dump it on the night team just yet..."

Isadora blinked at them slowly. The two of them looked like baby birds..eager, shivering, drenched in adrenaline and a pinch of fear.

She should've been annoyed.

But she wasn't.

They reminded her of herself, once. Bright-eyed. Hopeful. Still naïve enough to think saving people would come without breaking yourself first.

She stepped closer, her hoodie forgotten in one hand.

"You two stayed after your shift to make sure a stranger didn't get missed?"

They nodded in unison.

Her lips twitched into something almost like a smile.

"That's the kind of doctor this place needs. Good instinct."

Sanjay blushed. Alicia beamed.

"But you're still leaving now," Isadora added firmly. "Send it to Dr. Mason's tablet. He's on call. And if he gives you grief about timing, tell him I said to grow a pair."

Alicia stifled a laugh.

Sanjay cleared his throat. "It's just... Do you think she's gonna make it?"

Isadora didn't lie.

She never lied.

She looked down at the chart they'd handed her. Flipped through a few numbers.

Then met Sanjay's eyes.

"She's got a shot. But only if she gets care now. That's why I trust you to hand it off properly. You don't need a white coat to do what's right."

He nodded slowly, the weight of her words sinking in.

"You two did your part," she said. "Now go. Before you both catch pneumonia and make the ER busier than it already is."

The two interns exchanged glances again, and then Alicia blurted out, "Are you sure you're okay, Dr. Bell? You look like you haven't blinked since yesterday."

Isadora gave a tired smile, watching them disappear before turning back to her locker. She zipped her bag, shoved it over her shoulder, and headed for the exit.

As soon as the automatic doors opened, the rain greeted her. It was cold. Relentless. The wind blew her hood off instantly, soaking her curls within seconds.

Of course.

Her car was parked three blocks away. Her phone was almost dead. Her body wanted nothing more than to collapse...but she had to move.

She pulled her hoodie tight around her shoulders and stepped into the storm.

She didn't know it yet, but this night wasn't going to end with her in bed.

It was going to end with her in blood.

**

By the time Isadora reached her car, she was drenched to the bone. Her hoodie was soaked, her shoes were soaked, and her fingers were trembling as she fumbled for her keys.

She dropped them. Of course. She cursed under her breath, bent down, picked them up, shoved them into the lock, and yanked the door open.

She threw her bag onto the passenger seat and climbed in, slamming the door shut behind her. Her breath fogged the glass instantly.

She shoved the key into the ignition.

Turned it.

Click.

Nothing.

She tried again. Harder.

Click. Click. Nothing.

Her brows furrowed. "No. No, no, no...don't you fucking do this to me now..."

She frowned. Tried again and again. Hoping the heavens would smile on her and her car would start working.

Click. Click.

Her heart sank.

"No. No, don't do this. Not now."

She turned the key again. Harder. More desperate.

Nothing.

"DAMMIT!" She slammed her fists against the steering wheel. "FUCK!"

The engine was dead. Probably soaked.

She grabbed her phone, hands shaking, and turned it on. It flickered. The battery was nearly dead. One bar. One single, miserable bar of signal.

She tapped Ethan's name without hesitation.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Then...

"Bell?" Ethan's voice came through, warm and groggy. "Jesus, Dora, it's almost midnight. Are you okay?"

Her voice cracked, half laughing, half furious. "No, I'm fucking not, Ethan. I'm freezing. I just got off a double. It's pouring like the world's ending and now my piece...of...shit car won't start."

"Where are you?" he asked, instantly alert. "You want me to come get you?"

"I'm still by the hospital but...fuck..." She looked out the windshield. The storm looked even worse now. "There's no cabs. I tried waving a few down, none of them even slowed. I swear, this city's got no soul left."

"Okay, okay, relax. We'll figure it out. You're safe, yeah?"

"I'm safe," she said softly, eyes darting across the dark, empty street. "Just soaked and pissed and tired."

"Alright. I'm getting up. Send me your location..."

"I was thinking I might take the shortcut," she muttered, already regretting the words. "You know the one behind that factory near Westburn? It's quicker. I just..."

Silence.

"Ethan?" she said.

No response.

She pulled the phone back. Call dropped.

"No. No, no, no...FUCKING HELL!" she screamed, slamming her fist against the dash. "FUCKING SERVICE!"

Her phone blinked red. One percent battery.

She dropped it in her lap and sat there, breathing hard, staring out the window like the storm might somehow give her an answer.

But there was nothing. Just wind, rain, and darkness.

She reached for her hoodie, tugging it tighter around her shoulders like armor, and stared down the long, cold road ahead.

"Fine. Fuck it. Let's go," she muttered.

She stepped out of the car. Her shoes splashed into a rising puddle. And all she could think was how far she had to go.

There was only one option.

The shortcut.

She stood at the edge of the street, staring down the narrow alley that cut behind the abandoned textile factory. It was dark. Empty. The kind of place people crossed the street to avoid.

But she didn't have time. She didn't have a choice.

"I'll be home in fifteen minutes," she whispered to herself. "Just fifteen minutes."

She started walking.

She had no idea that fifteen minutes was all it would take to change everything.

Because on the other side of that shortcut...

Was blood.

Was power.

Was him.

**

She pulled her arms tighter around her chest, trying to focus, trying to walk faster.

"You can do this, Dora," she whispered to herself, teeth chattering. "You can. You've done worse. It's just a shortcut. Just a stupid, dark, creepy-ass shortcut."

She swallowed, eyes darting around the alley.

"Nothing's going to happen. You're fine. You're going home. You'll warm up, shower, maybe FaceTime Ethan and laugh about this. You're good."

But then she stopped.

Dead in her tracks.

Her breath caught.

Something wasn't right.

There was a sound.

Like someone choking.

Not coughing. Not clearing their throat.

Choking.

The sound of someone trying to suck in breath through broken lungs.

She didn't move. Couldn't.

Then a voice. A man's voice. Deep. Sharp. Angry. Speaking a language she didn't fully understand. But it wasn't just the words. It was the tone.

It was violent.

"Fuck..." What was that?" she whispered.

Her voice was barely audible. She didn't mean to speak. It just fell from her lips in a trembling breath.

Her heart dropped into her stomach. She looked around, searching for somewhere to hide. She spotted a stack of broken crates near the corner of the building and rushed behind them, crouching low, her back pressed against the wall, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

She couldn't breathe.

Her body was shaking. Her hands trembled.

She made the holy sign with weak fingers. "Oh Lord... please protect me. Please. I don't want to die tonight."

She clutched the edge of her hoodie, pulling it forward like it would shield her from the danger that felt way too close.

Her thighs trembled as she crouched. She felt it. That overwhelming pressure in her lower belly. She was so scared she could feel herself almost peeing. Her bladder pulsed painfully with the fear crawling through her.

She covered her mouth.

The voice came again.

Louder. Angrier.

She didn't want to look.

But something pulled her.

Curiosity. Instinct. Fate.

She leaned forward, just enough to peek through the broken slats between the crates.

And there he was.

A man knelt in the center of the alley.

Tall. Immovable. His presence didn't feel human.

He was soaked, just like her, but he didn't seem to feel the rain. It ran down his face, washing blood from his knuckles. He held a gun in his right hand like it belonged there.

And in front of him...

A body.

Crushed. Sprawled on the ground like a sack of meat.

The man on the ground was still breathing-barely. His legs kicked weakly, scraping against wet concrete. Blood mixed with rain, forming a dark pool around his chest. He made a sound-a hoarse, gurgling cry that barely rose above a whisper.

"Please..." the man gasped, voice shattered.

The tall man didn't flinch.

He raised the gun.

Isadora's heart seized in her chest.

He was going to kill him.

He didn't hesitate.

The muzzle pressed against the man's skull.

The man on the ground wept.

Then.

"SALUTA IL DEV PER ME. SARAI IN BUONA COMPAGNIA LAGGIÙ"

("Say hello to the dev for me. You'll be in good company down there.")

BANG. Fuck!

Isadora flinched so hard she slammed her back against the wall behind the crates. Her hands flew to her mouth to muffle the scream that nearly escaped. Her breath came in frantic, broken gasps.

Her ears rang.

Her stomach twisted so violently she thought she might throw up.

The killer stood.

His face was partially turned away from her, but she saw his jawline in the rain. Chiseled. Tensed.

He turned his head slowly.

And for one long, agonizing second.

He looked directly at her.

No, no, no, he couldn't have seen her.

But she felt it.

She couldn't move.

Couldn't even blink.

Then he started walking.

Toward her.

He knew.

She knew he knew. She had to do what thing run like a girl....

Then she fucking ran.

It wasn't a decision. It was survival. Her body snapped into motion, stumbling backward before she turned and bolted, slipping in the puddles, her breath catching in her throat as she sprinted through the alley.

Her brain didn't process the command. It didn't have to. This was instinct. Pure animal fear. The kind that lived in the marrow of the bones, in the heartbeat of prey. She didn't think...couldn't think...because her mind was burning with one word.

Run.

"HELP ME! SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME!"

Her voice tore from her throat in a scream so raw it scraped her lungs.

No one answered.

She didn't care where she was going anymore. She just ran. Faster. Harder. Like maybe, if she pushed her body enough, she could outrun what she saw.

"PLEASE!" she screamed again. "PLEASE! OH MY GOD...HELP ME!"

Her voice cracked on the last word. Her throat burned. She could taste salt..tears, blood, rain..she didn't know. She didn't care.

Her legs were shaking as her chest burned. Her breath came out in panicked sobs. Her arms were hugging herself as she ran like she could somehow hold her insides in place.

Her fingers dug into the sleeves of her hoodie, gripping the fabric like it might keep her from falling apart. Her limbs were beginning to betray her, her knees weakening, her ankles rolling every time her foot slammed into another pothole or gutter.

Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the rain that soaked her hair, her clothes.

She was crying so hard she couldn't see.

"I DIDN'T MEAN TO SEE ANYTHING! I SWEAR I DIDN'T...I DIDN'T MEAN TO!"

She slipped.

Her foot caught ground and she stumbled forward, knees crashing against the floor as her knees started to bleed.

Pain gripped her by the knee. The shock of it stole the air from her lungs. Her scream didn't even come out...it stuck in her throat, thick.

She cried out. Loud. Guttural. Her voice cracked under the pressure of pain and panic.

But she didn't stop.

She scrambled back to her feet, palms bleeding as she gripped her knees to stop it from bleeding, breath wheezing. Her whole body trembled.

"PLEASE DON'T KILL ME! I WAS JUST GOING HOME...I WAS JUST TRYING TO GET HOME!"

She screamed again. And again.

"IS ANYBODY THERE? PLEASE! PLEASE..."

No answer. No footsteps but her own.

She sobbed as she turned another corner, the buildings spinning around her in a blur of rain and shadow as she felt dizzy. What was happening to her body? Was it the shock of it all or what?

Her ears rang. Her legs wobbled. She could feel her consciousness flickering like the hallway lights in the ER when the power surged.

"I CAN'T DO THIS...I CAN'T...OH GOD PLEASE...I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"

Her legs buckled again but she pushed forward, one foot dragging in front of the other.

"ETHAN! SOMEONE...ANYONE...PLEASE...!"

Her cries were no longer screams. The kind of sounds you make when you're past the edge of fear and your soul is splintering.

"I didn't ask for this," she sobbed. "I didn't..."

She gasped as her legs gave out for real this time.

Her knees hit first. Then her hands. Then her chest, her cheek, her body folding into the soaked pavement like a puppet with its strings cut.

She collapsed.

Face-first onto the cold, wet ground.

Her breath hitched. Her body refused to move.

She blinked up at the sky, soaked hair clinging to her cheeks.

And then she felt it.

The presence.

It wasn't a sound. It wasn't even a shadow.

It was pressure.

Weight.

Cold.

It moved in behind her like death pulling up a chair. She didn't need to lift her head.

She already knew.

He was there.

Standing over her.

She turned her head, trembling, crying, helpless.

And then his shadow devoured her as she could not stop shaking. Then he crouched. His black boots were just inches far from her bleeding knee.

She saw them first.

They were clean. Clean despite the storm. Despite the blood.

Like he didn't walk. Like the world moved for him.

He crouched further slowly, one hand resting on his knee, the other holding the pistol she had just watched blow a man's skull wide open.

The blood was still wet on his skin.

And he was smiling.

Not the smile of a man amused.

The smile of a predator who had cornered prey.

"Well, well," he murmured.

"What do we have here?"

Her mouth opened but nothing came out. Her jaw trembled. Her teeth clacked.

He looked at her like she was a riddle that had solved itself. Like he already knew everything about her, just from the way her body shook.

"Hi there," he whispered, leaning in, eyes dragging over her soaked body. "Pretty little doctor."

Her breathing hitched, panicked sobs catching in her throat.

"You just witnessed something you weren't supposed to see," he continued, casually pressing the barrel of his gun against the center of her forehead.

The metal was cold.

So cold it burned.

She flinched so violently she nearly toppled over.

"Oh fuck," he chuckled darkly. "What shall I do with you, huh?"

He tilted his head, eyes glinting with cruel curiosity.

"Maybe I should paint the pavement with your brains. Right here. Right now. Let the city wash away what's left of you."

"No...no...please," she gasped, tears mixing with rain on her cheeks. "Don't kill me. I didn't...I wasn't...I swear I won't say anything..."

Her voice broke in the middle of her pleading. Her tongue felt heavy, her lips numb.

"I have a family...I have a job...I'm a doctor..."

Then it happened.

A sharp warmth. Piss.

Humiliation flooded her body before she could process it.

Her bladder gave out. Hot piss spilled down her thighs, soaking through her jeans, pooling under her knees and she felt it...every humiliating second of it...her body betraying her completely.

She let out a sob as she placed her face in her palms.

Her shame made her shiver harder than the cold ever could.

Dominic looked down.

Then back up at her.

And he smiled.

"Look at that," he said softly, like he was complimenting her. "You pissed yourself."

Her body shook with silent sobs as she could not bear to look up.

"And I haven't even pulled the trigger yet."

He dragged the barrel of the gun slowly across her jaw, over her lips, tracing her as if he were memorizing her fear.

"You're shaking," he whispered. "You smell like fear. Your pulse is pounding so hard I can hear it from here."

He leaned in closer. Inches from her face.

His voice dropped to a growl.

"I could kill you, right now. And no one...no one...would ever know. Do you understand that?"

She nodded violently, sobbing. "Please...please don't...I'll do anything..."

He grinned as he placed his fingertips on her lips.

"Anything?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Please, I swear, anything..."

He leaned even closer, nose brushing her cheek, gun still pressed to her head.

His breath was fire against her skin.

"Then beg, puttana."

Beg, little whore.

"Please sir. I'm begging you," she breathed.

Her voice didn't even sound like her own anymore..it sounded hollow, broken, the final whimper of a soul stripped bare in the rain.

She wasn't pleading to be spared anymore.

She was pleading to be seen. Not as a witness. Not as a mistake. But as a human. Something he might hesitate to destroy.

But there was no hesitation.

No mercy.

No pause.

He grabbed her throat again.

Not gentle.

Not hesitant.

Not merciful.

He wrapped his fingers around her neck like he fucking owned it, like it wasn't part of her anymore but an extension of him.

His palm crushed her windpipe forcing her spine to arch slightly beneath him.

Her breath hitched.

Her hands flew up to his wrist...those fragile fingers clawing, trembling, pressing, pleading..but her strength was laughable. His grip didn't loosen.

If anything...

It tightened.

He could feel her fluttering pulse beneath his palm. Rapid. And it made him hard.

So fucking hard.

His cock strained under his soaked fabric, pressing against the inside of his belt like it wanted to tear through and sink into something warm, trembling, pleading.

His eyes locked onto hers.

Burning.

Furious.

Hungry.

Unholy.

She couldn't look away as he leaned in closer. His nose touching hers as she could perceive his minty breath.

"Do you have any fucking idea," he growled "how pretty you look like this?"

She blinked once.

Then again.

Tears rolled down her cheeks in heavy, shaking drops. Her nails dug into his wrist, leaving tiny crescent moons in his skin. He didn't flinch.

He drank her in.

His thumb dragged slowly under her jaw, tilting her face up to him, as if presenting her to the night.

"I could ruin you," he whispered. "Right here. Right now. And there's not a single fucking soul in this city that would stop me."

The words slithered into her ears and curled around her spine.

She sobbed again.

"I should blow your brains out," he said, pressing the pistol harder against her cheek. "Let the rain wash away the pieces. Let the city forget you ever existed."

"Please..." she rasped.

He tilted his head.

"Still begging?"

"I'll do anything," she croaked. "I swear... I'll do anything..."

He stared at her for a long, drawn-out moment.

Then something flickered behind his eyes.

Not mercy.

Interest.

He removed his hand from her throat slowly as he smirk repeating her words.

"Anything" he muttered tilting his head.