Dark Romance: A Cruel Obsession

“Capo won’t be merciful,” Mare said coldly, “You pay too much attention to Camar. He’s just a stranger.”

“This stranger is going to die because of me,” Vivian yelled.

“It’s not my fault, or yours. It’s because he’s blind and offended the wrong people,” Mare said.

“I didn’t feel offended,” Vivian said, crossing her arms, her cheeks swelling with anger.

“No, he offended the Hargrave family. He’s challenging the Houston Mafia’s dominance. If left unchecked, more people will join his ranks, providing him with guns and ammunition,” Mare said. “He will become the new enemy of the Mafia.”

“Goodness, all for a mere possibility?”

“All dangers should be nipped in the bud,” Mare said firmly. This must be a viewpoint instilled in him by Alajos.

“I’m curious,” Luzia sat on a single sofa, her elbows on the armrest, her chin resting on the back of her hand, “What would Alajos do if he knew that the masseur giving Vivian a massage tonight is a man?”

Mare’s face darkened instantly as he glared at Luzia.

Unfazed by his stare, Luzia continued to smile at him.

Vivian’s whole body was on edge, her eyes wide with shock, and it took her a while to recover.

“He’s just a masseur!” Vivian said softly.

Luzia shrugged, looking helpless, “But he’s a real man. For Alajos, it’s wrong for a man to get close to you.”

Mare added, “Next time, we’ll get a female masseur. I’ll explain it to the spa.”

Vivian glared at Mare with indignation and then got up and went back to her room.

“Do you think Alajos will chop off his fingers, or cut off his ears?” Luzia made herself a cup of coffee and offered one to Mare. “Do you want some?”

Mare shook his head, “Don’t speculate on Capo’s thoughts. It’s very dangerous.”

Luzia smiled nonchalantly as she watched him go upstairs.

At one in the morning, the night was dark, the temperature dropped suddenly, and thin fog floated in every crevice of the city. Alajos’s black car, fierce like a hunting beast, stopped with a “click” in front of a rundown housing estate.

According to the information Alajos found, Camar Smith was an ordinary backend engineer, working for a small company in Houston, leading a monotonous life. Last year, he finally saved enough money to buy a house in this housing estate.

Alajos suspected he was now hiding in his home, trembling with fear.

Alajos was the first to get out of the car, accompanied by his brother Simpson and his henchman, Emmert. Emmert was one of Alajos’s most trusted men, and he was better at ambushes than Mare’s fighting skills.

The late-night visitor was stopped by a security guard, who looked at the three tall, fierce, and bloodthirsty men in front of him, his voice trembling, “Visitors need to register. Which unit are you looking for? Let the owner come down and see you.”

“Perfect, you can help us open the door,” Emmert smiled, slipping a stack of cash into the guard’s pocket. “It’s for your benefit.”All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

The guard didn’t even see Emmert’s movement clearly. He just felt a cold sensation on his neck, and a sharp knife blade tore through his flesh, causing a stinging pain. His legs went weak.

“Don’t kill me, don’t kill me, I’ll do whatever you ask,” the guard pleaded in a trembling voice.

“Open the door!” Emmert threatened coldly. “Lead the way.”

As soon as the guard hesitated, the pain in his neck intensified, the threat of death looming over his head. His legs were shaking, and he quickly pressed his fingerprint to unlock the door.

Emmert propped up the guard with one hand and half-dragged, half-pushed him to Camar’s unit. He forcibly pressed the guard’s hand onto the fingerprint lock. “Hey, buddy, thanks.”

Emmert tapped the guard’s face with his knife. “Don’t call the police. You know the consequences.”

The guard nodded frantically, and when Emmert released his grip, he stumbled away.

Mocking the guard’s retreating figure, Emmert sneered, “Coward.”

Simpson, in a good mood, opened the door and said to Emmert, “You’re too fierce.”

“Room number?” Alajos spoke in a low, dangerous voice.

His dark eyes were bright, staring intently at the numbers on the screen in the elevator. His heart was pounding, and even the knife in his hand trembled uncontrollably.

He longed for blood. With this knife in his hand. To pierce the flesh of that man.

Simpson and Emmert stood silently behind him, both sensing Alajos’s excitement. Emmert licked his lips, also succumbing to the bloodlust.

The blood of their enemies was the fervor of every member of the Mafia.

The elevator “dinged” to a stop on the 12th floor. Alajos stepped out, leading the way through the dim corridor. The motion sensor lights seemed to be malfunctioning, and the fog outside obscured everything, with no moonlight tonight.

Emmert swiftly slipped out, vanishing into the thick fog.

Alajos found Building B, Apartment 1203, and pressed the doorbell.

“Who’s there?” a man’s voice quivered behind the door, but after waiting for a while, there was no response.

The unexpected events during the day had made Camar as sensitive as a startled bird. He knew that the Hargrave family’s retaliation was inevitable, but he had nowhere to run. He cowered in his room, waiting for the blade of fate to fall.

But when the doorbell rang, the blade truly hung over him. Camar was not as resigned as he had imagined. He didn’t want to open the door and face the judgment of fate. He wanted to escape. He should escape.

Alajos wouldn’t give him a chance to escape. Emmert had already climbed onto the balcony, the silenced gun shattered the glass door, and he pressed the still-warm muzzle against Camar’s head amidst the shards.

Emmert dragged Camar by the hair to Alajos’s feet. Pain and fear covered his forehead with cold sweat. He tried to curl up, to minimize his presence. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“You know who I am,” Alajos eyed the timid man in front of him, ordinary-looking, with thinning hair, dressed shabbily. He looked like he was 40, not the 30 stated in the records.

“No, no…” Camar shook his head desperately, as if that could help him escape punishment.

His desperation and fear were truly exhilarating. Emmert toyed with his gun, causing Camar to flinch reflexively. Extreme terror made him feel like his scalp was exploding.

He was going to die. He was going to die…

“Alajos Hargrave,” Alajos bent down, closely admiring Camar’s desperate expression, which slightly lifted his spirits. “I heard that you knocked down my wife in the street?”

“It wasn’t intentional, I’ve already apologized, and I’ve been punished for it,” Camar showed them the bruises and wounds on his face and body. The purplish bruises had not yet subsided, blood oozed from the severe areas, staining his t-shirt red.

Camar was truly terrified. After the incident, he didn’t dare to return to his company and hastily took leave to hide at home, cowering in a corner, too frightened to change clothes or seek medical attention, but misfortune arrived as expected.