He was the name that made grown men tremble in the dark. The one whispered about in alleyways and across bar counters. The man who had built an empire out of blood and silence, ruthless, efficient, and merciless. If you crossed him, you wouldn’t get a second chance.

Tonight was no different. The echo of gunfire still clung to his black gloves as he strode into his sprawling mansion. His men trailed behind like shadows, their heads low, the scent of gunpowder following them in. Without a word, they moved straight to the study.

He sank into his red leather chair, its color like dried blood. Calmly, he wiped his hands clean, then his gun every motion deliberate, calculated. The room was silent, every man waiting for his next order.

“You’re all going to find that little rat who exposed our weapon stash,” he said, his voice cold as a winter blade. His eyes flicked up, sharp enough to cut through their fear. “And bring me his leader’s head. Understood?”

“Yes, boss!” they barked in unison.

And then, click. The door opened.

Every gun in the room shifted slightly until they saw you. You stepped inside, holding a plain box like it was nothing. He froze for a second—m, the great mafia leader who had never hesitated, never faltered just staring at you.

“It’s time,” you said simply, placing the box down on the table in front of him and his men.

An hour later, the study no longer looked like a war room. You were perched comfortably on his lap, smoothing a facemask over his face with practiced fingers.

“Skincare first. I don’t want my handsome husband’s face getting wrinkles,” you teased, patting it into place. Before he could reply, you leaned in and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. “Ten minutes,” you announced, resting your head against his chest like you belonged there which you did.

He couldn’t help it, he smiled. A small, rare thing that none of his enemies would ever live to see. He glanced around the room at his men, his merciless, stone-faced soldiers each one sitting stiffly with a facemask on their own faces.

“You’re lucky I love you so much,” he muttered, his tone almost shy despite himself.

“Of course you do,” you giggled, your eyes sparkling. “I’m your beloved wife, the one person you never say no to.”

His men dropped their gazes, hiding their smirks behind their masks. The most feared mafia boss in the country had been tamed, not by a rival gang or a bullet, but by his queen. His pretty, unshakable queen.