Reborn: The Mafia Captive Wife's Revenge

Seraphina POV

The deafening crack of the splintered door still echoed in the cramped room as Angelo's massive frame filled the doorway. His chest heaved, his dark eyes locking instantly onto the blood-soaked mattress.

In two brutal strides, he crossed the room. He pressed two thick fingers against Damien's neck, exhaling a harsh breath when he found a pulse. Then, he spun on me.

His Colt M1911 was drawn and leveled at my chest before I could even blink.

"Who did you call, *puttana*?" (whore) Angelo snarled, his voice a lethal rumble.

He didn't wait for an answer. Driven by the blind, absolute loyalty of a Falcone *Soldier*, he began tearing the forgotten safe house apart. He kicked the rusted iron table, sending it crashing into the wall. He took a switchblade from his pocket and slashed the mattress near Damien's feet, ripping out the stuffing to search for a hidden wire or weapon. He tore the moth-eaten curtains down, shattering the window pane in his blind rage.

I stood perfectly still, my face a mask of ice. I had died once already; the wrath of a mafia enforcer no longer terrified me.

Finding nothing, Angelo lunged. He grabbed me by the throat and slammed me back against the peeling wallpaper. The cold steel barrel of his gun dug painfully into my temple.

"Who set the ambush?" he roared, his spit hitting my cheek.

I stared back into his murderous eyes and said absolutely nothing. My silence, my refusal to cower, only fueled his frustration. With a disgusted grunt, he released my throat, letting me slide down the wall.

"You're a liability," Angelo muttered, turning his back on me to reach for Damien. "I'm taking the Boss. And then I'm putting a bullet in your head. You're nothing but trash in the way."

*Trash.*

The word echoed in my mind, unlocking a vault of past-life memories. The humiliation. The way I was treated as a disposable pawn, locked away and left to bleed out. The sheer dismissal in Angelo's voice ignited a blinding, reckless fury in my chest. I refused to die on my knees again.

"Stop right there," I said, my voice dropping to a razor-sharp whisper.

Angelo paused, glancing over his shoulder with a sneer.

I stepped forward, channeling every ounce of my hatred, and slapped him across the face.

The sharp *crack* of my palm against his jaw silenced the storm outside. Angelo froze, his eyes widening in sheer disbelief. A country girl had just struck a made man.

"You call yourself his most loyal *Soldier*," I spat, my voice trembling with venom, "yet you can't even tell who is saving him and who is killing him. You're nothing but a mindless, rabid dog!"

His eyes went dead. The shock vanished, replaced by pure, unadulterated malice. He racked the slide of his Colt and pressed the muzzle dead center against my forehead.

"You're dead, Moretti."

I closed my eyes. This was it. The Damien Falcone I knew from my past life would never sacrifice a loyal man for a pawn. I braced for the gunshot, waiting for the dark abyss to claim me again.

"Stand down."

The voice was a ragged, breathless rasp, but it carried the crushing, absolute weight of a *Don's Command*.

Angelo's face lit up with vindication. "Boss. I've got the rat—"

"I said, stand down."

I opened my eyes. Damien was struggling to sit up against the iron headboard. His face was ashen, his shirt ruined with blood, but his dark eyes were entirely lucid. They burned with a terrifying, cold fury.

Angelo hesitated, lowering the gun a fraction.

In that split second, Damien lunged forward with a sudden burst of adrenaline. He struck Angelo across the face with the back of his hand. The blow wasn't heavy, but the sheer authority behind it staggered the massive enforcer.

"She saved my life, you fool," Damien snarled, his chest heaving as he gripped his bleeding side. "While you let my car get shot to pieces, she dragged me out of hell. If you ever point a weapon at her again, I will put a bullet in your skull myself."

Angelo stood paralyzed, his face burning red with humiliation and shock.

"Now get out," Damien ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Find a doctor we can trust."

Angelo swallowed hard, his jaw tight. He shot me a look of pure venom before bowing his head. "Yes, Boss."

As Angelo backed out of the ruined room, I stared at the man on the bed, my heart hammering against my ribs. The Damien of my past life would have let me die without a second glance. But this man had just struck his most trusted man to protect me. The foundation of my revenge trembled, leaving me staring at the monster I swore to destroy, entirely unsure of what he truly was.