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Home / Mafia / THE UNDERESTIMATED UNDERWORLD KING / I DON'T QUIT ON PEOPLE I LOVE
I DON'T QUIT ON PEOPLE I LOVE
Author: Mr. Felix
last update2026-02-26 20:35:34

Sophia's heart had stopped. The monitor in Dante's mind—the one trained operators developed after enough field medicine—was counting seconds. Each one precious. Each one reducing the chances of meaningful recovery.

He was performing CPR with desperate precision. Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Thirty compressions. Two breaths. The rhythm burned into muscle memory from a hundred training sessions. But this wasn't training. This was Sophia dying beneath his hands.

Cain was beside him despite th
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  • WE NEED A WAY OUT

    Dante was staring at Victor. Gun in hand. Order clear. Kill him. Prove loyalty. Demonstrate submission. Become weapon Administrator needed.Victor was calm. Accepting. Professional composure facing death. "Do it. I've earned death thousand times over. Everything I've done. Everyone I've hurt. Betrayals. Murders. Crimes spanning decades. Death is deserved. Death is justice. Pull trigger."Sophia was protesting. Voice carrying horror. "Dante! You can't! This is what they WANT! Divide us! Make you killer! Make you THEIRS! Don't do it!"Administrator's voice was cold. Professional ultimatum. "It's what I REQUIRE. Proof you'll follow orders. Proof you're controllable. Proof you're MINE. Kill Victor or EVERYONE dies. Including Emma. Including unborn baby. Including everyone. Order given. Execution immediate. Choose."Emma was hiding behind Sophia. Terrified. Seven years old. Understanding Mr. Dante was being forced to kill. Understanding violence was escalating. Understanding adults were ma

  • FAMILY MURDER

    Sniper shots were forcing team into cover. Pinned down. Can't move. Professional suppression. Every attempt to relocate met with precision fire. Cathedral tower. Eight hundred meters. Impossible range. Professional capability."THE ADMINISTRATOR" voice came over comm. Distorted. Unidentifiable. Electronic manipulation. Voice modulation. Gender unclear. Age unclear. Identity impossible. Just presence. Just authority. Just control."Council failed because they were GREEDY. Visible. Traceable. Built empires with names. Left evidence. Created exposure. You've proven their model broken. Demonstrated fundamental flaw. Showed me what NOT to do."Professional assessment. Clinical analysis. No emotion. Just observation. Just facts rendered strategic.Dante was pressed against stone wall. Bullets chipping masonry. "What do you want?""I want to REBUILD. Better system. Invisible. Untraceable. No names. No faces. No evidence. Shadow structure that never emerges. Power that never shows. Control th

  • MOTHER'S CHOICE

    Scarlett was frozen. Rock raised. Theodore bleeding beneath her. Emma watching. Professional violence meeting innocent witness. Decision point. Choice that defined everything."Miss Scarlett... you're good person... I know you are..."Emma's voice carried certainty. Seven-year-old conviction. Understanding beyond years. Belief in goodness despite witnessing horror. Despite seeing violence. Despite watching adults become monsters.Scarlett's hands were shaking. Rock trembling. Muscles tense. Wanting to kill Theodore. DESERVING to kill him. Every justification existed. Every reason was valid. He'd tried to buy her baby. He'd hurt her family. He'd enabled Council's atrocities. Death was earned. Death was justice.But Emma's eyes. Pure. Innocent. Trusting. Looking at Miss Scarlett like she was hero. Like she was good. Like she was person worth believing in."You're gonna be mommy. Mommies are NICE."Simple logic. Child's understanding. Mothers protected. Mothers nurtured. Mothers chose li

  • REVENGE OR REDEMPTION

    Scarlett was tracking Theodore. Using his own phone against him. Professional irony. Technology meant for controlling operations now revealing his location. GPS data streaming. Movement patterns visible. Security protocols accessible. Everything Theodore had built to maintain power now serving his enemy. His niece. His family. His victim.Theodore had fled to private villa. Outside Geneva. Secure location. Professional safe house. Fortified position. Built decades ago when Council was establishing European operations. Maintained annually. Stocked with supplies. Armed with professional security. The kind of retreat that suggested Theodore had anticipated exactly this scenario. Had planned for betrayal. Had prepared for siege.Scarlett was approaching. Unarmed. Supposedly. Looking defeated. Professional acting. Body language conveying exhaustion. Trauma. Recent childbirth. Emergency C-section. Torture. Loss. Everything calculated to appear vulnerable. Harmless. Desperate. Woman seeking

  • HE HURT MY FAMILY

    Nine Council members were scattered across Geneva. Professional dispersal. Each one moving to different sector. Different safe house. Different extraction point. Coordinated separation that made simultaneous capture impossible. That required hunting them individually. That turned single mission into nine parallel operations.Dante's team was splitting. No choice. Nine targets meant nine operators. Each person taking primary responsibility for single Council member. Each one understanding failure meant target escaped. Meant Council survived. Meant everything they'd sacrificed was wasted.Cain was after Dmitri Volkov. Russian arms dealer. Wounded from courtroom shooting but mobile. Moving toward Moscow district. Geneva's Russian expatriate community. Where language was familiar. Where contacts existed. Where extraction could happen if he reached safe house. Cain following through crowds. Professional tracking. Understanding Russian psychology. Anticipating movement.Elena was after Yuki

  • INTERNATIONAL CRIMINALS

    Theodore was alive. Neck brace visible. Professional medical equipment supporting injury that should have killed him. Standing in courtroom entrance. Walking. Functional. Impossible but real."Surprised?" His voice carried satisfaction. Professional gloating. "Sophia's attack didn't break my neck. Just badly bruised. Damaged soft tissue. I played dead. Waited for extraction. Professional survival. Now here I am. Presiding over YOUR trial. Poetic justice."The courthouse was completely rigged. Professional corruption rendered architectural. Every person Theodore's asset. Every official his employee. Every element of justice theater designed to appear legitimate while serving predetermined outcome.Jury was fake. Twelve people who'd never served jury duty. Professional actors hired to look stern and impartial while following script. Paid generously. Instructed specifically. Knowing verdict before evidence presented.Prosecutors were Theodore's agents. Not Swiss legal professionals. Not

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