The Assassin Raised His Gun to Execute the Mafia Boss — Until a 3-Year-Old Girl Grabbed the Boss's Hand and Said "Shh"

Vincent was hyperventilating, his expensive gray suit ruined, his arrogance completely shattered into a million pieces.

"Cassian, please!" Vincent choked out, coughing on his own pain. "I had to do it! The rival families offered me twenty million! They were going to kill me if I didn't help them! Have mercy!"

Cassian reached out and grabbed Vincent by the throat, violently slamming the traitor's head back against the concrete wall.

"Mercy?" Cassian growled, his dark eyes turning blacker than midnight. "You terrorized an innocent woman under my roof. You threatened to put a three-year-old girl in the ground. You used my name to build a throne of abuse, Vincent. You don't get mercy."

"I'm sorry!" Vincent wailed, tears of pure terror mixing with the blood on his face. "I'll leave the country! You'll never see me again!"

"You're right," Cassian replied coldly, pulling a heavy, razor-sharp tactical knife from the sheath on his belt. "I won't."

Before Vincent could even scream, Cassian moved. But he didn't strike a lethal blow. With blinding speed, Cassian grabbed Vincent's left wrist and brought the heavy hilt of the knife down with crushing force, shattering the bones in Vincent's other hand.

Vincent collapsed onto his face, completely incapacitated, screaming until his voice went hoarse.

Cassian stood up, wiping the sweat from his brow. He didn't kill him yet. He wanted the traitor to suffer the excruciating pain of his failure first.

Cassian turned his attention to Elena. He quickly used the blade of his knife to slice through the heavy zip ties binding her wrists to the metal pipe.

Elena collapsed forward, sobbing uncontrollably. Cassian caught her gently, supporting her weight.

"Where is she?" Elena wept hysterically. "Where is Rosa?!"