Blood Phoenix ：My Fiancé Sold Me To My Eighteen Mafia Fathers Chapter 05
The killing intent in Papa’s eyes was almost solid. Every ounce of air in the hall got sucked out. Frozen to zero.
His eyes locked on the ruined mess of my knees — the bone showing through the blood. Then on my right arm, on the phoenix ripped open like torn silk. His pupils blew wide.
“Sera… baby?”
The man who runs the East Coast underworld with a snap of his fingers — his voice cracked. Actually cracked.
Papa dropped down beside me. One knee straight into the mud and broken glass. Didn’t even hesitate.
His hands — hands that have ended more men than I can count — hovered over me, shaking. Like he was scared to touch me. Scared he’d hurt me more.
“Papa…”
I twitched a smile at him. Blood in my teeth. Dirt on my mouth.
Boom.
That one word — Papa — lit the fuse on the entire room.
The seventeen bosses behind him? Their eyes went red. Actually red, like they were bleeding from the inside out.
“WHO the fuck touched our little girl?!”
“You put hands on our princess?! You’re a dead man!”
Seventeen semi-autos racked back at the same time. Seventeen barrels swung out and locked on every single person in the hall.
The silence that followed was the kind that makes grown men wet themselves. The kind before somebody dies.
Bianca’s fake little smile snapped clean off. Every drop of blood drained out of her face. She hit the floor. Just — dropped.
She stared at me. Lips moving. No sound coming out.
Godfather?
This — this “gutter trash” she’d been grinding under her heel — was calling the Don Papa?
And every single one of those seventeen killers behind him — was calling her theirs too?
Julian’s face went gray. All the blood in his body seemed to reverse course.
He watched Papa scoop me up like I was made of glass, and something snapped behind his eyes.
“D-Don… please, this is a misunderstanding —”
Julian scrambled forward on his hands and knees, tripping over himself.
“Th-this bitch — this woman — I picked her up on the outside as a fall guy! The tattoo’s fake! There’s no way she could be your —”
BAM.
Papa didn’t even turn his head. He just kicked. One backhanded boot to Julian’s chest.
Julian went flying. Seven, eight yards, easy. Slammed into the iron doors. A rib went, sharp and loud. Blood sprayed out of his mouth.
“A misunderstanding?”
Papa slid out of his black coat and wrapped it around me. Slow. Careful. Like he was tucking a baby in.
His rough thumb wiped the blood off my cheek. His eyes — his eyes were pure murder mixed with something breaking.
“I raised this girl for twenty years. You think I don’t know my own daughter?”
“Who the hell do you think you are — laying a finger on my blood?”
That’s when Chloe pissed herself.
Straight up. Right there on the floor.
She finally got it. Now she got what I meant back in the car. Not a sacrifice — the devil herself.
“N-no! It wasn’t me! Julian did all of this! I didn’t do anything, I swear —!”
Chloe screamed and bolted for the door.
“Where you going, sweetheart? You touched a hair on the Moretti principessa — I’ll drag you outta whatever hole you crawl into and peel you apart!”
Uncle Vito’s got the shortest fuse in the family. He was on her in a heartbeat. Grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanked her back like a rag doll.
Chloe screamed like a stuck pig. Blood trickled from her scalp as Uncle Vito slammed her face-first into the marble. She curled up and thrashed, sobbing.
Scar was already on his knees, slapping himself across the face over and over. Didn’t even dare speak. Just prayed he wasn’t next.
Papa sucked in a long breath. Forced the killing look back down. Then leaned in, voice soft:
“Baby girl. Tell Papa. Who put hands on you first? I’ll skin them alive right now.”
The other seventeen closed in. Every eye red. Every jaw locked.
Uncle Marco looked at my shredded knees and pulled the stiletto off his belt.
“I’m taking their legs first.”
Uncle Enzo — my sweet Uncle Enzo — was fumbling through his pockets, hands shaking, trying to find a first aid kit.
“Sweetheart, don’t cry, Uncle Enzo’s here, no more pain, no more pain, okay…”
I looked at them. These men who terrify entire countries — falling apart. Over me.
Three years of pushing it all down. Every bit of the hurt I’d swallowed on the outside. It all just… let go.
I took a slow breath. Reached out and put my hand over Papa’s — the one already lifted to signal the kill.
“Papa. Not yet.”
I pushed off him and got myself up. Slowly. My right leg screamed. I let it scream.
My eyes swept the hall — over every trembling little worm on the floor. My mouth curled up. Cold.
“Killing them’s too easy. I’m not done playing yet.”
I pushed Uncle Enzo’s hand away and started walking. Dragging my ruined leg. One step at a time. Right up to Julian.
He was propped against the door, mouth full of blood, staring at me like I was something clawing out of hell.
“S-Sera… you… you lied… you actually lied to me…”
“I lied?”
I crouched down. Ran my bloody fingers along the side of his face — the face I used to be crazy about. The face that just made me sick now.
“Three years ago, you came crawling after me. Swore up and down you’d take a bullet for me. Remember?”
“I just wanted to see what a man like you was actually worth on the inside.”
“Now I know. Nothing. Not a damn thing.”
I grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his face up so he had to look at me. My voice went silky.
“Weren’t you just saying you were gonna bury me in the Vance family plot? So sweet. So I wouldn’t be a lost soul out there all alone?”
“Get a good look, Julian.”
“I’m Serafina Moretti. The one and only principessa of Devil’s Hollow.”
I let go. Stood up. Looked down at him like he was roadkill.
“You wanted to bury me in your family plot?”
“Sweetheart. You’re not even fit to dig the hole.”
I turned to my eighteen dads. Every one of them coiled and ready to blow. And I gave them a sweet, sweet smile.
“Papa. Boys. Don’t kill them yet. I want to keep them a while.”