Two Mafias and a Girl

The shelter lights buzzed above Millie’s head, flickering just enough to make her nerves twitch. She sat in the rec room, pretending to read a tattered magazine.

Was he really outside? Was he watching now?

She couldn’t shake the feeling that eyes were on her.

The shelter was supposed to be safe. No one could just walk in—not without clearance, not without setting off a dozen security flags. But then again, Dan had never needed permission. He made doors open with fear alone.

She tucked the burner phone Alex gave her deeper into her hoodie pocket.

Where was he?

She had called. He said he was coming. But how long would it take?

Click.

The front entrance lock disengaged with a sound like a gun cocking.

Millie’s spine snapped straight.

The receptionist called out in her usual warm tone, “Hello, can I help you?”

Then her voice changed. “Sir? I need you to stop right there—"

Millie stood up, but her legs didn’t move fast enough.

Too late.

Dan stepped into view.

The lobby lights cast long shadows over his face, but she recognized that twisted smirk. He wore a charcoal suit like a costume, his tie loose around his neck like he hadn’t bothered to care. His knuckles were red—scraped, like he'd punched something. Or someone.

The receptionist reached for the phone.

Dan raised a small, black pistol from beneath his coat.

Millie screamed.

Everything spiraled after that.

Dan didn’t fire—he didn’t have to. He just waved the gun slowly, like he had all the time in the world. “No heroes, yeah?” he said casually. “I just came to pick up my girl.”

The receptionist froze, wide-eyed and silent.

“Millie,” he said with a crooked grin. “Don’t make me ask twice.”

She backed up until her legs hit the arm of the couch. Her heart pounded so hard she was sure everyone could hear it.

“Dan, you can’t be here,” she said, voice trembling. “You’re not—”

“I am,” he snapped, the warmth gone in an instant. “I’ve always been. Your mother promised me you’d stay with me while I take care of you.”

“I’m not yours.”

Dan tilted his head like a confused dog, then smiled. “You will be. When you remember who you belong to.”

He took a step forward.

So did another figure.

A shadow moved so fast it nearly blurred.

The next moment, Alex was there—black jacket swinging behind him like wings, eyes locked on Dan with murderous calm.

“Back away from her,” Alex said.

Dan’s smile dropped. “Ah. The mutt.”

Alex’s voice didn’t rise, didn’t flinch. “Put the gun down before I break your arm.”

Dan chuckled. “You think you're tough because you play watchdog? I’ve put bigger men in the ground.”

“Then try me,” Alex said, stepping between Millie and the gun.

Dan raised the pistol again.

Alex didn’t wait.

He moved with precision—one hand knocking the weapon aside just as it fired. The shot cracked, slamming into the wall. Screams rang from the hallway.

Alex grabbed Dan by the collar, spun him, and slammed him against the desk.

“You don’t get near her again,” he growled. “Ever.”

Dan shoved him back. “She’s mine! You can't have her!”

Another hit. Alex punched him square in the jaw, and Dan’s head snapped back.

Security rushed in. Someone shouted, “Gun! Gun!”

Dan was tackled to the floor, the pistol kicked out of reach.

Millie stood frozen as it all happened around her.

Alex grabbed her hand. “We have to go.”

She blinked. “What—where—”

“No time.”

He yanked her toward the exit, just as sirens blared in the distance.

---

They didn’t stop running until they were several blocks away.

Alex’s car was parked in an alley, engine still warm. He pulled open the door and shoved her inside, sliding into the driver’s seat.

Millie gasped for breath, watching the city blur outside the window.

“You came,” she said finally.

“I always will,” Alex replied.

She looked at him—really looked—and saw the blood at his knuckles, the tension in his jaw. But more than that, she saw something in his eyes. Rage.

He was willing to kill Dan if need be.