The Mafia Boss's Obsession

LUNA's POV

It was Tuesday afternoon, and I was already fighting Bratva thugs at a gas station. Typical.

“You touched the wrong car, asshole!” one of them barked, grabbing my boyfriend by the collar.

“Back off,” I snapped, stepping between them, rage blooming hot in my chest. “It was a scratch, not a hit. And you don’t lay a hand on him.”

He didn’t listen. His fist drew back, but he never got the chance to throw it.

My heel slammed into his knee. He dropped with a grunt.

The second guy reached for his waistband. I went for his throat.

It wasn’t graceful. Wasn’t trained. But I’d spent my whole life learning how to survive men like them.

Hurting Bratva men in broad daylight wasn’t just reckless, it was suicidal. But I couldn’t stop myself. Not when they laid a hand on Yuri. 

By the time they hit the pavement, bruised and stunned, a sleek black SUV rolled up across the street. I didn’t notice it at first, not until I felt a stare that froze my blood.

A man leaned against the hood. Shadowed. Watching.

He wasn’t dressed like the thugs I just dropped. He wore a tailored black suit. No tie. Hands in his pockets.

Relaxed. Patient.

Like he had all the time in the world to decide whether I was worth noticing… or killing.

A cold sinking started in my gut.

I couldn’t see his eyes from here, but I felt them. Face carved from violence. He looked like death in a tailored suit.

Sharp. Calculating. Amused, like a snake watching a mouse dance too close.

“Who the hell is that?” I whispered.

Yuri wiped blood from his lip, ego cracked worse than his dignity. “I think… that’s Misha Petrov.”

No. Fucking. Way.

I’d heard the stories. The Bratva’s reaper. The man who made people disappear like smoke.

The man who was supposed to marry my sister.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t call his soldiers back.

Didn’t lift a hand.

He just watched me. Like a puzzle he wasn’t sure he wanted to solve.

Seconds stretched.

I forced myself not to flinch. Not to look away.

Whatever he saw, or didn’t see, he made his decision.

Without a word, he pushed off the SUV, slid into the driver’s seat, and disappeared down the street.

Like none of it mattered.

Like I didn’t matter.

Yuri swore under his breath and grabbed my elbow. “Come on. We need to go. Now.”

I let him pull me, but my head stayed turned toward the street. Toward the man who’d looked at me… and dismissed me.

His gaze lingered like a blade against my spine.

I slid into the car beside Yuri, the high of adrenaline crashing into a sick, heavy pit in my gut.

He didn’t speak as he drove, hands clenched tight on the wheel. I could practically feel his pride bruising faster than his jaw.

“You mad at me?” I asked, flipping down the visor to check the blood on my lip.

“Do you have a death wish?” he snapped. “They were Bratva soldiers. You don’t just walk away from that kind of insult.”

“If standing up to bullies is an insult, maybe the Bratva needs to toughen up.” I crossed my arms. “You should be thanking me. I dropped them like sacks of bricks.”

He shot me a look. “I had it under control.”

I snorted. “Sure. You were about to seduce them with that trembling lip.”

“Luna.”

I leaned back, exhaling slowly. “If you want a girlfriend who lets men slap you around, date someone else. I’m not built for that.”

He didn’t answer. Which told me enough.

Yuri hated that I didn’t need him. That I moved faster. Hit harder. Always knew where the exits were.

We pulled up to a quiet street just outside the city—his drop point. A decoy location he used to throw off cartel tails. He thought it was clever. I thought it was pathetic.

“I’ll call you later,” he muttered, already halfway out the door.

“Sure you will.”

He paused like he might say something real. But then the door slammed, and he vanished into the shadows—leaving me alone with blood on my knuckles, smoke in my lungs, and a knot in my chest that felt suspiciously like regret.

I slid into the driver’s seat. 

It was my father’s car. Flashy, armored, and too damn recognizable. But I didn’t have time to trade it for something less obvious.

I lit a cigarette, fingers steady. Inhaled deep.

Let the smoke fill the silence where my thoughts should’ve been.

Those men I fought? They were Misha Petrov’s.

I’d heard enough rumors to give nightmares to devils.

They say once, a man lied about a shipment. Petrov had him flayed in front of his crew, just so no one else ever lied again.

Even Papa doesn’t speak his name unless it’s with a toast… or a bribe.

That’s how you know someone’s dangerous—when even the devil stays on their good side.

And now that monster is coming for my sister.

The burn in my lungs made more sense than the one in my chest.

My sister and I are the daughters of Colombia’s most feared supplier… and still, our fates are being decided for us.

But I stopped playing by their rules a long time ago.

Right around the time Mama stopped breathing.

No one knows what I did that night.

Not even Gabriela.

Some sins don’t get buried. They sit with you. Quiet. Waiting.

My family never wanted a daughter like me. They wanted a chess piece. One who stayed pretty, stayed quiet, and knew how to fall in line.

They had Gabriela for that.

Sweet, soft, obedient Gabriela.

But even lambs don’t deserve to be thrown to the wolves.

I didn’t know how to save her, not from Misha, not from our father.

But I knew how to start.

I just had to convince her to say no.

And if she wouldn’t…

Then I’d say it for her. Loud enough to start a war.