The Maid's Guide to the Mafia

47

His features stood calmly, his eyebrows ceased down while a slight immoral smirk appeared at the edge of his lips. 
"Is that all of them?" The question scraped his tone, the savagery breaking through his voice while his blood-thirst intensified with each sighting of a new walking corpse heading towards his cell.

"Yes sir. The remaining died in the bombing. These are the only soldiers left." Sadika explained calmly, the black bear fur of her coat concealing her face from the crowds of defeated men on the floor below them.

"I want you to find the men at fault for the scars on her body. I would love to meet them." The cold timbre of his vague threat seeped with the animalistic ferocity present in the commination.

Sadika did not need him to mention who he was referring to as the clear motivation over his sudden need for vengeance could have only been tied back to one woman.

His maid.

"Right away, sir. I will let the guards know to line up the prisoners." Sadika replied, instantly making her way downstairs as the tenths of desperate eyes watched her as she approached the nearest guard who was currently throwing the one of the defenseless men into the cage.

Alister ambled out of the door with the spare of one last glimpse at the frail pack of his newest set of victims.
It was difficult to believe that the swarm of the prisoners downstairs belonged to one of the most powerful mafia groups to ever exist, so much so that they were once proclaimed to be the only that stood a chance against Alister Mancini.
Now, barely able to beg for food.

The entire presence appearance of the Warehouse was sickening and Alister found himself missing the warmth Kamala offered.

While gone on his hunt for his newest set of prays in eastern parts of Siberia, it had been nearly a week of the time he had missed with Kamala.

At first, while he was still planning his strategies to locate the mafia that had been cowering away since his last attack, he had refused to leave the girl alone. With her stitches still fresh, he knew there was nothing in the world he could abandon her for no matter how important it was.

He didn't want somebody else touching or taking care of someone that belonged to him.
He had to do it.

He kept her by his side while working in the office, gently laying down her bruised and feverish body down on the silky couch by his desk.
He made sure to spread out about a dozen woolen cushions on the surface of the fabric, making sure her back was always restful and covered all while applying two portions of blankets above her sleeping form.

No matter how much she complained about burning up once she had awoken, Alister did not care.

After berating the doctors and demanding solutions on how to keep her as comfortable as one can be, he did not want to hear another word protesting his methods.

Unfortunately, after another week had passed he couldn't deny his responsibilities any longer. However, this time, he was not taking any chances of Kamala.
Much to her instant displeasure, the outside of her room was always bombarded with Alister's strongest, most high-ranked guards that he didn't take on his deadly rampaging.

The only two people allowed in the room was her doctor for daily check-ups and her nurse that helped her take care of her basic needs.
Both of their faces were directly shown and thoroughly remembered by the small army of guards guarding the entrance of the first-floor doorway that led to the room Kamala was staying in.