All Chapters of The Mafia's Assassin (Don Russo): Chapter 51 - Chapter 58

Sofia did not sleep.She lay awake long after the lights in Russo’s estate dimmed, staring at the ceiling while the weight of everything she had learned pressed against her ribs. Knowledge had always been her weapon. Now it felt like a blade turned inward, cutting away illusions she hadn’t realised she was still clinging to.The Black Vipers were real.Her mother had been real.And somewhere out there, women who shared her bloodline and her scars were watching her closely, deciding whether she was worthy of a legacy the Council had tried to bury.The knock on her door came just before dawn.Not loud. Not demanding. Precise.She was on her fe

Sofia had always believed that choice was an illusion.The Council taught that obedience was survival. That questioning orders was weakness. That loyalty was measured by how quickly you pulled the trigger when told to. For years, she had mistaken endurance for freedom, discipline for purpose.Standing now in Don Russo’s study, she understood how wrong she had been.The room was quiet, the low hum of the city filtering in through the tall windows behind him. Russo stood near his desk, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up in a way that suggested this was not a negotiation he intended to dominate. He watched her closely, not like prey, not like property—but like an equal weighing another.Damian lingered near the door, deliberately silent.

The alarms at the Council complex did not stop when Alex crossed the outer gates.They followed him into the city like a warning siren meant for anyone still loyal enough to listen.By the time he reached the underground transit tunnel, his face was slick with sweat, lungs burning, but his mind was terrifyingly clear. There was no going back now. Whatever fragile protection his rank had once afforded him was gone. Madam Lee would not hesitate to brand him a traitor, and the Council would not hesitate to erase him.Alex disappeared into the service tunnels, shedding his jacket, dumping his weapon into a drainage shaft, and becoming anonymous by necessity. Every step was calculated, every turn deliberate. Survival had always been part of the training. Tonight, it was personal.A

Sofia stood alone in the communications room long after everyone else had cleared out.The space was dim, lit only by the glow of monitors and the faint reflection of her own face in the glass. On every screen, fragments of the Council’s broadcast looped endlessly—her name, her image, her sentence. Traitor. Target. Threat.She had spent most of her life erasing herself, moving silently, leaving nothing behind but bodies and questions. The Council had believed that silence was her nature.They were wrong.Behind her, the door opened quietly.Russo entered without announcement, his presence steady, unhurried. ‘If you do this,’ he said calmly, ‘there’s no reclaiming anonymity.’