Lahat ng Kabanata ng Under the Mafia's Touch (MxM): Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

A bullet screamed past Dominic Voss’s head, Millennium Park erupting into a crimson haze. Grass stained red under his boots as Caleb Warrick’s sneer lingered, the traitor’s shot searing his side. At fifty-two, he towered at six-foot-two, a broad frame carved by years of rule, salt-and-pepper hair slick with sweat, a scar raking his left cheek from a forgotten fight. Born in the South Side’s filth, he’d clawed upward, knifing his mentor for control of gambling joints in Wicker Park and rackets in the Loop. His Streeterville penthouse glittered with wealth, a glass fortress where his word shaped the city, though whispers labeled him a tyrant. He couldn't stop thinking about the kiss he stole from Luca, a soldier's bold lips in a dark pub. It was buried because of the mafia's strict law. Now, he couldn't remember anything. He had sixty days to get his crown back, and the hit was a hole of anguish and sorrow.Rain lashed the flat, its peeling walls a jagged contrast to his past. Noah

A flash of gunfire tore through the darkness, yanking Dominic back to that smoky bar where Luca’s laugh had once filled the air with warmth. Rain battered the Gold Coast flat now, its peeling walls trembling as he pushed himself up, a sharp sting slicing through his side. He cut an imposing figure, broad shoulders hunched under a shredded coat, his hair plastered against a scarred cheek from some forgotten brawl.He’d clawed his way out of the South Side’s muck, stabbing his mentor in the back to seize control of Wicker Park’s gambling dens and the Loop’s shadowy rackets. His Streeterville penthouse stood as a gleaming monument, where his word twisted the city’s pulse, though enemies spat the word “monster” behind his back. Luca, a wiry soldier with deep, daring eyes, had once stolen a kiss in that bar’s dim light, a moment Dominic buried under the mafia’s iron code. Now, amnesia clouded his mind, sixty days to reclaim his throne, those fleeting memories a bitter ache amid the fog

"Fuck!" Dominic stands still, his breath still rough from the kiss that feels like a brand. His wide shoulders sag under a ripped coat. His fingertips touch his lips, smelling whisky and Noah's refusal. The crumpled shirt on the floor is a silent witness.Eli's quiet snores fill the silence, a fragile drift after his cry interrupted the moment. Dominic's grey eyes dart to Noah as he adjusts the blanket over the cot, and a possessive fire starts. "What have I done?" He mutters, his voice gruff and his fists clenched. Noah looks up, and his hazel eyes narrow. "Are you talking to yourself now?" "Just trying to make sense of the mess," Dominic moans as he moves closer. "Mess you started," Noah says back, a smile on his face. "Good, if it keeps you here." The air gets thicker because of the heat from their earlier fight. Dominic's thoughts go to the chilly marble flooring of the penthouse, which are very different from this shabby room with its peeling walls and strewn toy

The gunshot was a brutal punch to the humid night air. Eli’s cry, a tiny, terrified sound, cut through the haze of Dominic’s amnesia and went straight to his core. His heart, a thing he hadn’t felt in years, hammered against his ribs as he shoved Noah and the child down. The rusted dumpster was their only shield, a pitiful defense against the organized violence that now hunted them. Dominic looked over the edge, his muscles tense and ready. Two dark, threatening shapes moved at the end of the alley. They were hard to see against the dim light of a flickering streetlight. The shine of the metal in their hands confirmed his darkest thoughts.This wasn't a warning; they were here for a kill."Stay down, dammit!" His voice was a low growl, like a guy who dominated with fear. He saw the change in himself, from being a lost stray to being a ruthless kingpin. The amnesia had kept the beast in a prison for a while, but now it was breaking out."What about Eli?" Noah gasped, his voice

The persistent green blip on his tablet was the only thing keeping Jaxon from giving in to a cold, suffocating rage. For hours, Dominic had been a ghost, and Jaxon’s fury was a living thing in his chest. The last known location was a grimy alley on the South Side, the site of a botched ambush. Jaxon had a hundred men on the street, all of them searching, and his own knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel. “Don't you dare return until you've found the Boss or at the very least have valuable information on where he might be.” He commanded.“Do I make myself clear?”“Yes Sir” The men responded in unison.Right now, his only concern was a single, green dot moving through the forgotten arteries of the city. The blip, a discreet tracker sewn into the lining of Dominic's bespoke suit jacket, was now stationary at a derelict apartment building. Jaxon scoffed. Of all the places to hide, his boss had chosen a relic of the city’s past. It was so unlike him, and the inconsist