She Shoved the Pregnant Waitress Into a Mirror—Not Knowing the Mafia Boss Was About to See Everything

The underground garage became a war zone, but Viktor Moretti had severely underestimated Royce Calloway.

Royce had not built his underworld empire by being defensive. The moment the ambush began, the encrypted tracking system in his motorcade signaled his elite strike force—forty heavily armed, military-trained operatives stationed within a two-block radius of the clinic.

Within two minutes, the sound of heavy engines roared at the garage entrance. Four massive tactical armored vehicles smashed through the security barriers, trapping Moretti’s men inside the very garage they had chosen for their ambush!

"Flank them!" Marcus yelled, leading the charge as Calloway’s elite guards poured into the garage, returning devastating, disciplined fire.

Moretti’s hired mercs were cut down rapidly, completely overwhelmed by the tactical precision of Royce’s private army.

Inside the bullet-riddled SUV, Royce gently eased off Della, ensuring she was unharmed. "Are you hurt? Did anything hit you?"

Della shook her head frantically, her breath coming in short gasps. "I’m... I’m okay! The baby... the baby is okay! Royce, please be careful!"

"Stay here with Marcus," Royce said, his voice dropping into a cold tone that chilled the air in the vehicle. "I have to finish this."

Royce stepped out of the vehicle into the smoke-filled garage. He didn't duck or dodge; he walked upright through the settling dust, a heavy gun held firmly in his hand.

At the far end of the garage, behind a burning van, Viktor Moretti and Harlan Vance were frantically trying to restart a stalled sedan. Harlan’s face was covered in sweat and tears, his hands shaking violently as he fumbled with the door handle.

"He... he had a backup team!" Harlan shrieked in terror. "I told you, Viktor! I told you he was a monster!"

"Shut up!" Viktor snarled, pulling his gun.

Before Viktor could raise his weapon, a heavy combat boot struck his wrist, shattering the bone with a sickening CRACK! Viktor screamed, dropping his gun and falling to his knees.

Royce stood over them, his black suit covered in light gray dust, his eyes glowing with lethal intent. He didn't say a word. He stepped forward and slammed the butt of his pistol into Viktor’s jaw, knocking him flat onto the cold concrete floor.

Harlan dropped to his knees immediately, throwing his hands in the air, sobbing hysterically.

"Please! Mr. Calloway! Please don't kill me!" Harlan begged, his forehead pressed against Royce’s blood-stained leather shoes. "It was Viktor’s idea! He planned everything! He said we could use the waitress to force you into a deal! I just wanted my money back!"

Royce looked down at Harlan with utter disgust. He stepped back and gestured to his tactical commander.

"Do not kill them," Royce ordered coldly. "Death is too quick for men who target pregnant women."

Harlan looked up, hope flickering in his terrified eyes for a fraction of a second, before Royce added:

"Hand Viktor Moretti over to the federal authorities alongside the evidence of his international cartel connections. He will spend the rest of his life in a supermax solitary cell. And as for Harlan Vance..."

Royce leaned down, grabbing Harlan by his collar, dragging him up until their eyes were inches apart.

"I have bought all of your personal debts, Harlan. Every cent you owe now belongs to me. I am seizing your family’s last remaining estates, your vehicles, and your bank accounts today. You will be penniless, homeless, and hunted by every debt collector in this state for the rest of your natural life."

Royce shoved him back onto the ground. "Throw him out on the street."

As his men dragged the screaming, weeping Harlan Vance away, Royce turned and walked back toward his vehicle. The smoke was clearing, the garage was secure, and the threat that had loomed over his family had been systematically erased forever.

He opened the SUV door and climbed back into the rear seat. The moment he sat down, Della threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.