Until Forever Ends: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Adelaide Forrest

  Joaquin pushed open the front door, leading the way inside as I glanced over my shoulder at the people watching me with whispering lips. They gathered, the soft murmurs of reina echoing through the space between us until Joaquin closed the door and separated us from them. "They'll get used to you," he said in an attempt to reassure me, guiding me toward the back of the house. Gabriel and Hugo both sat at a patio set on the terrace, a pitcher of sangria in the center despite the early hour.

  Joaquin cleared his throat to get their attention, and the brothers spun to face him. Hugo's eyes widened briefly before he vaulted to his feet when he saw me. "Isa," he said, moving toward me as if he might hug me.

  I held up both hands and clenched my eyes closed, warning him off as best I could without words. I didn't think my voice would work.

  I suddenly couldn't bear to speak any of the thoughts that had been in my head since I'd learned the truth. I didn't think anything could soothe the wound his deception had left.

  He waited, watching me cautiously with his hands clenched into tight fists at his side. "Why?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer. "Why did you have to make me care about you? Was that part of your job?" I asked finally.

  He shook his head, scrubbing his hands down his face. "No. I needed to be your friend and we needed to watch you. That's all."

  "Then why?" I whispered. "What was the point?"

  "You care about me because you have a huge heart. Because you don't give your love often, but when you do? You give it all. Just like me," he sighed, moving forward to take my hands in his despite my resistance. "And I love you. You're my best friend, Isa. I didn't want this for you. Please believe me," he begged. He didn't move to touch me more than the contact at my hands, where I had no doubt that he would have once hugged me and held me.

  His fear of Rafael was too strong, even with him absent.

  "How can you say that? You don't lie to people you love," I accused.

  "I lied to you about why I was in Chicago, but the friendship we built was real. You're a part of me. You're a part of all of us now. We knew you before you were Señora Ibarra, and we'll always remember that girl," Hugo said.

  "But the woman she's growing to be is a force to be reckoned with, and we very much look forward to watching that journey," Gabriel said from the table. Hugo pulled on my hands, drawing me over and sitting me in one of the seats as I cried.

  "It's okay to cry," Hugo said, wiping some of the tears away from my eyes.

  "I don't know who I am anymore," I admitted, watching as his face twisted. I knew he'd understand better than anyone, because he'd known me before Rafael.

  "You're mi reina. You're exactly who you have to be to survive El Diablo," Hugo said, taking a seat next to me.

  I didn't let people in often. I didn't accept that I needed others, because I knew in the end other people only ever hurt me.

  They used. They took.

  But sometimes, they were worth loving despite all that. Sometimes they were worth forgiving, even in the tiniest sliver of my heart.

  I just had to hope I didn't get burned a second time, because I wouldn't survive the ashes again.

  29

  Rafael

  It had been far too long since I’d stalked through the streets of a city that wasn't my own. Since I’d moved through the night like the darkness was mine to claim. There was no bodyguard at my back, no one to protect me if something went wrong.

  It wouldn't, because no one could defeat the devil when the sun went down.

  Leonid stumbled through Rome blindly and half drunk, entirely unaware of the nightmare who trailed at his heels and prepared to kill him slowly.

  To make him suffer for the sins of his father.

  The apartment he stepped up to would have been a secure fortress that few could compete with when trying to gain access. But such things didn't matter for men like me.

  His men were all half drunk on their own arrogance and vodka, letting me slip inside the building as if I belonged. I followed him up the stairs at a slower pace, allowing Leonid to guide me to the space that would be the last he ever saw.

  I would sear the memory of it into his eyes long after they stopped seeing, letting the reminder of his passing haunt him in death. He fumbled with the keys he pulled from his pocket, scraping the doorknob with his unsteady hands.

  Stepping up behind him, I took the keys from his loose grip. "Here, let me help you," I said, feigning kindness. Turning the key inside the lock, I twisted the knob and pushed the door open as Leonid's stunned gaze came to rest on the side of my face.

  Just as he moved to shout, I shoved him inside the apartment with a rough hand at the back of his head. He tumbled to the floor in his drunken state, tripping over his legs until he fell in a puddle of awkward limbs. I closed the door behind me and turned the lock, my eyes landing on the woman tied to a chair at the dining room table. She squirmed and screamed into the duct tape covering her mouth, drawing a disgruntled sigh from my lungs as I turned my stare back to Leonid.

  The duct tape proved convenient as I grabbed the roll off the table and tore off a piece with my teeth. "Help!" Leonid finally yelled as I moved toward him. Sighing, I drew the gun from my pants and readied myself for the stampede of security that would follow his pathetic attempt at salvation.

  The door blew off the hinges as his men came charging in blindly. My gun kicked back in my hand as the first shot struck the lead man between the eyes. He dropped to the floor like a sack of meat, leaving the two others behind him vulnerable as I shot them in rapid succession.

  Three shots, three men. With them dead and no longer my concern, I turned my attention back to Leonid where he cowered with his back to the wall. He hadn't bothered to stand, only holding out two hands as if he thought he could reason with El Diablo. But there was no absolution from the Devil.

  Only an eternity of suffering.

  I grabbed the bodies one by one, dragging them inside the apartment so I could close the door. I didn't expect any more of Leonid or Pavel's men to come so quickly, but only a fool would leave himself entirely vulnerable. Even though the door didn't latch, it would still buy me an invaluable moment of time if someone did manage to come and try to interfere with my fun.

  "Ibarra," Leonid rasped out. "What are you doing in Rome?"

  "I should think that's obvious," I warned. "I have never appreciated your father's fondness for games and small talk, Leonid. I won't start with you."

  "What do you want?" he asked with a grimace. "You've already killed my men. Surely that's enough retaliation for whatever you think my father did to you."

  "Not hardly. Your father won't miss your men in the slightest. He will, however, miss you," I said with a dark smile. I turned my attention to the girl tied up at the table, tearing the duct tape off her mouth and untying her quickly. She moved to stretch her limbs, staring up at me hopefully as I dropped a wad of cash from my pocket onto the table. "Get out of Rome for a while," I ordered, nodding my head to the door and dismissing her as I turned my attention back to Leonid. He'd started attempting to shift his way closer to the door when he thought me distracted, to the armed men and the weapons he could use to defend himself.

  It shocked me to think that Pavel's son wouldn't always carry his piece on him, but his offspring had never been the brightest bunch. They were often too reliant on the allegiance of men who could easily be bought or swayed with a threat to the people they cared about.

  I trusted no one more than myself.

  The woman stood on shaky legs, the bruises on her skin a deep purple as she blinked her swollen eyes up at me. "Thank you," she murmured when I didn't give her my attention.

  As much as I would have liked to say she was a unique case, Pavel and his sons left a trail of women just like her wherever they went. She was just another victim in their string of rapes and trafficking, and sadly she was one of the luckier ones.

  She'd walk away alive and free.

  She scurried for the d
oor when I kept my eyes on Leonid and closed the distance between us. Squatting down in front of him, I stared him in the eye and silently dared him to say something to contradict everything I already knew. He was as big a piece of shit as his father. As my father had been.

  "Did you rape her?" I asked, tilting my head to the side as I studied him. He clenched his jaw, not saying the words we both knew were true. Even if he hadn't yet, he would have had I not come to kill him. "Or did I take away your new toy before you got a chance to break her in?"

  "I fucked her last night," he spat, snarling in my face. "But you can't rape a whore like that. You should have heard her scream for me."

  Patting my knees, I rose to stand over him. My eyes fell to his suit clad legs, the memory of his father's knee cap snapping filling my head with a sudden burst of pleasure. "It's fortunate for you that I have a wife to get home to," I said. "Otherwise I might be inclined to call in some of my friends who enjoy fucking men like you in the ass."

  "Wife?" he huffed a laugh. "Fucking Christ almighty, you married that American cunt? My father was right. You really have gone soft."

  I slammed my foot down on his kneecap, crushing it in the same way I had his father's not long ago. He screamed his pain, clutching at it as I twisted it back and forth and ground the shattered bones into dust. "Fuck!"

  "I'm not soft for you," I said, leaning forward to pat his cheek harshly and turning back to the kitchen. Grabbing the entire butcher block of knives, I went back to where he sobbed against the wall in his pain. "You see, I'm not a fan of men talking about my wife," I said, setting the block on the floor behind me. With a steak knife in my hand, I cut through the fabric of his shirt to reveal pale white skin beneath. Covered in the tattoos of the Bratva, his torso heaved with exertion as he moved to strike me.

  I grabbed his hand as he lifted it, pulling until I twisted him to lie flat against the floor. Pulling his arm out to the side and pinning it beneath him, I stabbed through the flesh with the steak knife until it held steady in the floorboards. He yelled his pain, raising his other arm to hit me and fight me off as I grabbed another steak knife and repeated the process on the other hand.

  He whimpered as he tried to lift the knives out of the wood floor, his flesh sliding along the knife until he dropped back down in agony. Ripping the shirt off his torso, I grabbed the filet knife from the butcher block and pressed the tip to his chest while he tried to sink into the floor to get away. The tattoo over his heart was the unique mark that the Kuznetsovs wore to signify their impeccable genetics. To show that they alone were the heirs to the specific line of the Bratva that Pavel ran in Siberia.

  I sank the point of the knife into his skin, gliding it through his flesh as I carved around the edges of his tattoo. "Fucking stop!" he screamed as the blade sank deeper beneath his ink and flayed the skin off his chest. I peeled it back, the skin tearing off the muscle and blood red flesh until the patch hung limply in my hand with the black ink of the Tundra Wolf and stars glimmering underneath the red stain. I tossed it to the side, listening to the wet sound as it stuck to the floor. "You're insane," he mumbled, his breathing harsh as I touched his face with blood-soaked fingers and laughed.

  "You have no idea," I chuckled, dragging the tip of the knife down his sternum and leaving a trail of blood in my wake. The devil inside me craved the blood and the scent of fear and pain in the air.

  I couldn't wait until I could share that part of myself with Isa. For the little demon inside her to admit that she craved the bloodshed and death just as much as I did.

  "I used to think I'd get bored eventually," I sighed. "After a lifetime of violence, how could I not?" I asked, pressing the knife through the skin of his chest carefully. I pushed it deeper, making slow and careful glides with the knife to get through the chest wall until I felt the familiar press of bone against the tip, sliding straight down along the sternum. I set the knife on his stomach to slip eight fingers in the cut I'd made on his chest, pulling the flesh apart to reveal the breastbone. He stared up at me in horror, his eyes fluttering closed as the unimaginable pain of having his chest cavity opened while he looked on settled over him. “But that day has never come.”

  I used the tip of the chef's knife to crack open his breast bone, pleased he still breathed as I reached inside his chest cavity and wrapped my fingers around his beating heart. Isa was the love of my life, my heart, and Pavel had nearly cost me that. With his life in my hands, I pulled his free until he blinked up at his own heart in the moments before his death. Opening his mouth, I shoved the bloody organ between his teeth and trapped the last breath in his body.

  It protruded from his face, a mouth full of his own heart as it pumped the remaining blood within it all over his face and neck. I dragged my fingers through it, drawing on the floor beside his body.

  One down.

  Four to go. I stood, washing my hands in the sink in the kitchen. Making my way back toward the door to the apartment, I pulled it open and strode into the hallway after closing it behind me. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I dialed Pavel's number and chuckled when it went to voicemail as expected. "Are all your sons morons like their father? Or was that only Leonid?" I asked, ending the call and turning to wander down the streets of Rome.

  I smiled at the old woman I passed sitting on her steps, making my way back to my gracious host's house.

  Massimo Farrante was one of the few men I trusted to keep me safe until I could return to Isa, but he and I had business to discuss before I could leave Rome.

  Tomorrow would be soon enough.

  By the time I’d finished my business and made my way to the room set aside for me for the night, exhaustion made my limbs heavy. I wanted to go home to Isa, but getting some sleep first would do me wonders. My conversation with Massimo would continue into the next day, working to help him find a solution to his own woman problems without crossing the line. Men like us walked a careful line, and if we didn't take the time to evaluate our actions, we may cross into the forbidden zone of those we condemned.

  I flipped open the screen on my laptop despite my fatigue, wanting to watch mi reina sleep for a few moments to settle the violence rattling in my bones. Not having her to fuck the remaining adrenaline out of my system was torture, and I resolved to taking her with me whenever I could do it safely.

  As I brought up the camera feed and my eyes settled on her face, there was no denying the restlessness of her body. Despite the late hour, she was wide awake in the center of the bed. Suspicion took me, and I rewound the feed slowly, watching with a tightening jaw as I realized what Isa had done.

  I kept rewinding until the moment she'd shrugged the sheets off her body and spread her legs. Baring herself to the camera, she was entirely naked as she slid her hand between her thighs and played with her pussy. With her eyes on the camera, there was no denying that she'd chosen to defy me intentionally.

  She didn't try to hide the rebellion, instead using it to torture me as her fingers worked her clit knowingly with an arrogant smirk on her face. Her fingers slid lower, gliding inside her pussy and pumping slowly.

  I dropped my hand to my cock, grasping it tightly and mimicking the speed of her fingers as I stroked myself. Isa bit her lip on the camera as if she could see me touching myself, taking pleasure in driving me further into my rage and desire for her.

  I'd explicitly forbidden her from touching herself, and she'd decided that my greedy little pussy needed attention that I wasn’t there to give.

  Her back arched as she moved those naughty fingers back to her clit, circling it with an increasing rhythm as my hand stroked my cock faster. As I imagined her beneath me and begging for my cum while I pounded inside her. She reached up a free hand, pinching her nipple like I might and shattering into an orgasm while I watched her chest heave and her thighs tighten around her hand.

  I pumped my cock until I came on my stomach, promising myself the revenge I'd take on her ass when I went home the next day.

  She'd
be lucky if she could walk by the time I was done with her.

  30

  Isa

  Hugo watched from the sidelines as Joaquin centered himself in the small clearing on the opposite end of the hillside. The village and Rafe's house were tucked away on the opposite side and we were off the beaten path that the people from the town walked or drove to get to the church where we'd gotten married.

  The sea was visible in the distance through the trees, but for the most part we were tucked away safely. I still hadn’t been brave enough to take Regina up on her offer to take me through the village and introduce me to the people who called the island home. I hadn’t yet forgiven them for allowing Rafe to do as he pleased with me and not daring to intervene.

  Even if I knew it was illogical to expect such a thing.

  With leggings and a tank top to cover my skin, I stared at Joaquin as he stripped off his sneakers.

  "Rafe is going to murder you when he finds out, and he will find out," Hugo scolded his older brother. "Have you lost your damn mind?"

  "He won't murder me. Isa won't allow it," Joaquin said with a brittle smile that said just how little he believed that to be true.

  Hugo only rolled his eyes. "Okay, so he won't kill you. He'll just beat the fucking shit out of you. What could have been worth this?"

  Joaquin winked at me, refusing to tell Hugo the truth that I'd promised to speak to him only in return for this very moment. "We just have to make it count while we have time," he said, nodding at me.

  I agreed silently, hoping that my distraction the night before would keep Rafael focused on other rebellions. Maybe he'd be so focused on punishing me for touching myself that he'd overlook the more serious transgression that he would hate with every fiber of his being.

  Exhaustion already made my limbs feel heavy with the exertion of the day.

  When Joaquin said he meant to make the day count, I hadn't realized he meant to work me until I couldn't walk. But the feedback he gave me would be valuable if it ever came to a point where I needed to protect myself. I was small, and most men were massive compared to me, especially the men that seemed to surround Rafael.