Owning the Mafia Don

Lucien

He rushed forward, scooping up his wife into his arms even as she collapsed in a heap.

The dead man fell down beside her, his heavy, outstretched arm across her neck, but Proserpina was too far gone to care.

His gun clattered harmlessly to the floor beside them, and Danielle darted forward and grabbed it.

Lucien knelt beside her, cradling her in his powerful arms.

Her long brown hair was matted and dirty as it hung around her. There was blood on her face, her left eyelid was swollen and a purple bruise was forming on her cheek. The soft lips he worshipped were swollen, the lower lip cut, with a deep slash of blood on it.

She was still the most beautiful, the most precious thing he had ever had, he realised, his heart aching as he traced her features with his eyes.

Her eyelids fluttered for a minute, the cracked, dry lips trying to smile as she breathed,

“Lucien…My love… I knew …”

He looked into her eyes and then turned away, too choked to say anything. She squeezed his hand gently. She did not have the strength to do more.

He raised his head and bellowed,

“Help me get her into that f*cking aircraft, NOW!”

Schwartz was beside him even before he had finished speaking, easily helping to heft her up, gently. Proserpina opened her eyes. As she looked into the eyes of the man who had saved her, she raised her hand with difficulty, the other hand resting protectively on her large stomach. Lucien was carrying her, his heart sinking as he saw how small she had become. Her large stomach was totally disproportionate to her body.

“James.” she whispered, resting her small, bruised hand on his cheek gently.

His eyes grazed her battered face tenderly.

“Looking great little one,” smiled Schwartz, his white teeth gleaming in his smoke-streaked yet handsome face.

She smiled with difficulty. The relief, and joy on her face were evident. And she groaned as another spasm hit her body.

Lucien slowed down, his eyes worried as they rested on her face.

Beston and the other men had joined them. Aiyana was firing, Danielle at her shoulder. Most of his men were returning fire to the people remaining in the building. They provided the cover necessary to heft Proserpina and carry her out, to race across to the waiting ambulance.

The stragglers who were behind in the burning house were half-hearted in their firing. With Oleg’s death, they knew they could not put up a fight. They were probably more concerned with saving their own lives.

Smoke clouds, thick and black in colour, rose up into the sky and Lucien knew that the authorities would be here in a few minutes. He had to take Proserpina and get away as should his people who had come in the other aircraft.

The man who had been holding a gun to the ambulance attendant had been shot down and Proserpina was gently helped into the aircraft. She groaned, her hand going to her aching back as she leaned on her husband and Schwartz, unable to stand on her own.

Lucien’s face was white and grim.

There were things he had to do. He would bring down every man responsible for doing this to her, he swore. He could see an echo of his determination and rage on Schwartz’s face as well.

***

The two attendants in the aircraft were examining Proserpina. They eyed her with consternation as they saw she was advanced in labour and dreadfully weak after her harrowing ordeal.

The younger attendant’s eyes widened.

“She…does not have much…”

“GET THE F*CKING BIRD INTO THE AIR ALREADY!” roared Lucien, and the man hastily jumped out of the way of the raging madman, who was waving his large submachine gun in a frighteningly threatening manner.

Schwartz was before him suddenly.

Glancing around as the sound of gunfire came from behind him, he peered at Lucien and said, “Mate, you can take Aiyana here, with you and Das and Lee.”

“We’ll hold the fire till you leave and then we shall take off too.”

Lucien stared at his friend for a second. If he had not entered with the swag he had displayed, in true rakish Schwartz style and shot down Oleg, it was nearly unbearable to think of what would have happened.

He reached out and gripped the younger man’s lean arm, packed with muscle.

“I owe you, Schwartz,” he mumbled gruffly.

A flash of white teeth in the dark, dirty face, covered as it was with sweat and blood was the response he received.

‘” C’mon mate!’ said Schwartz with his characteristic jauntiness and winked.

As he stepped back he added in a sombre tone, his green eyes holding Lucien’s

“I love her too.’ he said flatly and moved away.

Aiyana was bleeding badly; her left arm was heavy and soaked with blood.

But she did not want to leave. She knew that Danielle did not have her experience, her swiftness of thinking. Clutching her arm she said firmly, nodding in the direction of Danielle,

“Let her go. I shall stay here.”

Schwartz looked at her in exasperation.

“You need a doctor, lady,” he said.

But she stood her ground.

Shaking his head in defeat, Schwartz moved off, turning to Danielle.

***

The men, Das and Lee scrambled inside.

The attendant was already checking Proserpina’s vitals, her face was enclosed in an oxygen mask and her eyes were closed. Lucien felt a rush of tenderness for her.

The other nurse on board a big-boned woman in her forties was also busy as the ambulance lifted off.

He saw Schwartz dart back, firing accurately, saw Aiyana as she wove through the smoke, shooting and creating a cover.NôvelDrama.Org owns all content.

Beston, his men…and then they were lifting up and flying away. Das and Lee were returning fire at the men who were taking shots at the aircraft, ineffectually attempting to bring it down..

But Lucien was too absorbed in his wife. He sat beside her, gently stroking her hand, holding her small white hand in his large hands. His eyes were moist but he was unaware of it.

His gun was still slung over his shoulder but he was thinking of the miracle that had happened. He had managed to get his wife back. Her large belly was sticking out and again, he felt his heart clench.

She had gone through so much.

Suffered so much.

At such a young age.

Would she be able to forgive him for putting her through this ordeal? For it was because of him that she had had to suffer so viciously.

He bowed his head, his lips on her small, soft hand, eyes closed, as he relished the feel of her small, cool hand in his large, warm ones.

“Proserpina.” he thought, “Proserpina. My Love.”