Owning the Mafia Don

Lucie

Using his quick reflexes, Lucien managed to roll away, and in that instant, Dmitri reached up and grabbed his throat. The stone crashed into the snow harmlessly, missing them by a fraction, but the two men who were grappling frenziedly had begun to roll down the slope. Too late, Lucien realised that they were rolling down, slowly but surely towards the water. Desperately, he tried to free himself from the grip of the man who had him by the neck.

But Dmitri had realised that he had no time left. he was bleeding profusely, his face resembling a crimson mask, only his eyes gleaming like a devil as he whispered hoarsely,

‘I am dying, Lucien Delano. You have killed me. But I am not going alone. I am going to take you with me.’

A crazy chuckle erupted from his hoarse throat and Lucien tried to free himself from the hands that were like claws, embedded into his throat.© NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

Meanwhile, there was still danger from Dusak.

The youth had scrambled to his feet and was now tottering as he came to the rescue of his uncle. He managed to pull Dmitri by the collar, falling down on the snow as his hate-filled eyes, glazed with pain and rage, met Lucien’s.

In his attempt to save his uncle, Dusak had forgotten that Lucien Delano was no ordinary fighter. He had fought with his back to the wall on many occasions before this and had come out as a winner.

But this time around things were different. He was fighting to kill the man who had almost destroyed his entire family; he was fighting to save his own life, he was fighting for the sake of the woman he loved, for the sake of their beautiful children all six of them.

He wanted nothing better than to stay alive and return to his woman and their children.

His will to live was far deeper and more resolute than anyone else.

The boy’s thin lips drew back in a snarl as he tried to hit out at Lucien but the Boss was quicker.

In a fit of rage, struggling to free himself from Dmitri’s death-like grasp, he lashed out at the young boy with his free arm and there was a strangulated scream. The knuckle duster had connected with the youth’s cheekbone and lodged itself in his eyeball before Lucien pulled it out roughly. Howling in pain, clutching his bleeding eye, the young boy rolled over and over in the snow, unable to handle the excruciating pain.

*

Schwartz stumbled over, waving his free arm, shouting, screaming hoarsely but it was too late.

The two men had reached the edge of the cliff and suddenly, with a whooshing sound, Lucien Delano and his nemesis, Dmitri Rudenko were free-falling over the edge of the precipice, into the gushing waters below, a huge fall.

Lucien Delano’s last thoughts as he plummeted into the icy waters were of his lovely wife and it was her name he shouted one last time as his body struck the icy waters.

Dmitri’s screams rang out, dying out as he sank to the depths of the river, his head striking the rocks that stood, jagged and cruel. His body was tossed about and then there was only the sound of the waters, loud and fierce, reflecting the anger of Mother Nature as the waters churned while the river raced along way below the cliff.

Far above, on the cliff, Schwartz fell onto the snow, sobbing aloud brokenly, weeping aloud. He looked down at the swirling waters and felt sick. There was no sign of the body of his beloved mentor and friend.

The lean, handsome man knelt in the snow and shouted to the grey skies and the snow fell on his upturned face.

There was no sign of Dusak.

*

Proserpina

I woke up feeling vaguely uneasy. I had slept fitfully, dreaming of Lucien. he seemed to be calling me, bellowing my name and this time, he sounded …afraid?

My children came awake sleepily as I left the room to prepare breakfast.

Humming softly, I checked my little ones. As always, little Dominique was awake and crying lustily for milk.

His siblings moved about restlessly and I smiled as I cuddled them one by one, kissing them and cooing.

Then, after the business of feeding them was done, I went along to the kitchen. The twins had wanted pancakes for breakfast and soon, I was deep in the act of preparing them.

*

When Beston turned up at the kitchen door, I glanced at him perfunctorily; he always reported in the morning to check on us and wish me. But today, startled at the drawn, grey pallor of his face, the tense expression on his countenance, I froze.

Dropping the large wooden spoon onto the counter I cried,

“What is it?’ And then, as he stood silently, his mouth opening and closing but without saying a word, I rushed at him, grabbing his shirt, shaking him as I shouted,

” ANTONY BESTON! WHAT IS IT?’ I shrieked.

He looked away from my face, eyes deceptively moist.

He took a deep breath.

And then, he said, staring at a point above my head, he said in a soft, quavering voice,

‘Ma’am,…I mean…the Boss…’

‘What about him?’ I screamed, shaking him with all my might although I knew what he was going to say,

“Beston, please…’ I begged, my voice breaking as he continued to stay silent.

Beatrice was beside me, holding my arm, her arm around my waist. Tadhana was on the other side of me, clasping me.

‘Beston,’ I cried, begging him now for I had sunk to the floor, tears streaming.

He choked and then, he said in a strangulated whisper,

‘The Boss…he was fighting Dmitri…’

His Adam’s apple bobbed and I saw the tell tale moisture in his eyes as he blinked and went on, his gaze fixed on the ground,

“The Boss went over the cliff…into the river…”

A low, keening sound filled the air. I realised it was me, as I knelt, swaying, wrapping my arms around my waist, and sobbing.

“No!’ I screeched wildly, shaking my head frantically,

‘No, not Lucien, not my husband! Beston, you just made this up, please tell me you are joking!!!”

But my heart saw the grief, the pity in his face as his great shoulders shook.

My love, my husband, MY Lucien was no more…

The darkness enveloped me like a shroud as I slipped into a dead faint.