"The Mafia Boss Laughed at a Little Girl — Until Her Dog Proved She Was Right

The air in the subterranean hideout froze solid. The four mercenaries cocked their weapons in unison, the metallic clatter echoing off the damp stone walls like a death knell.

Viktor held his son tighter against his chest, his eyes locked onto Marcus Vance with a predatory intensity. But beneath his calm exterior, a cold realization was forming. This trap had been too easy. The guards outside had been too thin. Marcus couldn't have known they were coming through the storm drain unless...

Unless someone inside Viktor’s own inner circle had sold them out.

"You're awfully confident, Marcus," Viktor said smoothly, stalling for time while calculating the angles of the room. "Considering your financial backers in the parliament are currently being arrested by federal agents as we speak."

Marcus’s smug smile flickered for a fraction of a second—just enough to show that Viktor had hit a nerve. But Marcus quickly recovered, laughing harshly. "You think I care about politicians? Once you and your precious little heir are rotting at the bottom of the river, I take over the entire London syndicate. And who’s going to stop me? Thomas?"

Viktor’s heart skipped a beat. Thomas.

The heavy footsteps echoing from the hallway outside answered the question before anyone could speak. The door pushed wide open, and there stood Thomas—Viktor’s most trusted enforcer of ten years—holding his assault rifle casually, a cold, apologetic smirk on his face.

"Sorry, boss," Thomas said, stepping into the room and standing beside Marcus. "Business is business. Marcus offered me the shipping ports in Dover and half a million in untraceable crypto. You were getting soft, Viktor. You started caring about family instead of the crown."

Leo buried his face back into Viktor’s coat, whimpering softly. Viktor didn't look at the traitor. He simply stared straight ahead, his voice dropping into a register so cold it made the candles flicker.

"Ten years, Thomas," Viktor said softly. "I pulled you out of a Serbian prison. I gave you power, money, respect. And you sold it all for a discount."

"Don't make it sound personal, Viktor," Thomas shrugged, raising his rifle. "It’s just capitalism."

Marcus raised his own weapon, aiming directly at Viktor’s heart. "Any last words, old friend?"

Before Marcus could pull the trigger, something small and fast darted out from beneath the desk.

Shadow.

The scruffy mixed-breed dog didn't hesitate. With a ferocious, blood-curdling snarl that sounded twice his size, Shadow launched himself directly at Thomas’s throat, sinking his teeth deep into the enforcer's forearm.

"Ahhh! You stupid mutt!" Thomas screamed in agony, his rifle discharging harmlessly into the concrete ceiling as he thrashed wildly to shake the dog off.