The Mafia Lord's Secret Lover - Chapter 237

Chapter 237: You Made The Wrong Decision
Dylan’s entire body went still.

That voice.

He knew that voice.

It was Stella.

Her voice trembled in the dark, “Let me go, please…”

A sharp, cold pressure squeezed his chest. His jaw tightened, and all thoughts of minding his own business vanished like smoke.

He stepped forward, quiet and deadly, the kind of movement predators made before striking.

The three men surrounding Stella turned at the sound of his approaching footsteps.

Their expressions were ready to snap, ready to curse, well prepared to intimidate whoever dared interrupt.

But the moment Dylan’s face entered the pale glow of the streetlamp, everything shifted.

A suffocating silence fell. The air felt heavy, almost dangerous. Even the night breeze seemed to pause.

For a split second, none of the men moved. Even their breathing halted.

Then Stella saw him.

Her eyes widened, filled with shock and relief. “Dylan…?”

Her voice cracked, trembling with fear, as she tried to hide it.

Dylan barely returned a small smile, but his eyes were already fixed on one thing.

The hand gripping Stella’s wrist.

His smile vanished.

“Let her go,” he said quietly. The tone was cold enough to freeze blood.

The three men froze again.

But it was only for a second. Their false confidence quickly returned, this time sharper than before.

“Who the hell are you?” the man holding Stella spat. “How dare you interrupt our business!”

Two others stepped beside him, each raising a sharp dagger that caught the dim light.

Dylan did not flinch. Instead, a slow, dark smile curved on his lips.

He nodded toward Stella before turning his gaze to the man who held Stella’s wrist, “Are you dumb? Did you not hear her call my name?”

Three men were stunned.

“Take care of him. Hurry!” the man with the dagger barked.

Stella’s breath caught. “Stop! Please stop, don’t—”

But the first man lunged before her voice could finish, roaring as he slashed his dagger toward Dylan’s throat.

The blade sliced through the air.

Dylan did not step back. He stood perfectly still.

Until the very last moment.

Then,

His hand shot forward like lightning, gripping the man’s wrist. The blade stopped inches from his skin.

The man gasped in shock. He tried to push forward, tried to slice through, but his wrist would not move. It felt like an iron clamp held him still.

Dylan’s eyes darkened, turning cold enough to make the man tremble. A sinister smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“You made the wrong decision,” Dylan said calmly.

A sharp crack echoed through the night.

The man screamed. The dagger dropped.

Before his scream could even finish, Dylan’s boot struck his knee, bending it in a direction no knee should bend.

Another sickening crack.

The man toppled to the muddy ground, writhing and wailing.

Stella gasped and covered her mouth with her free hand, horrified.

The other two men froze, eyes widening in disbelief.

Dylan did not wait for them to act. He was already moving.

The man holding Stella tried to drag her closer, using her as a shield.

But Dylan closed the distance with frightening speed, grabbing Stella’s arm and yanking her free before lifting his knee and slamming it into the man’s stomach.

The man folded instantly, dropping to the ground.

Dylan placed Stella safely behind him. “Stay there,” he said without looking back.

The third thug lunged with his dagger raised high. Dylan caught his arm mid-swing, twisted it, and drove his elbow into the man’s jaw.

The snap was loud.

The man’s body hit the ground with a thud, unconscious.

The second man, gasping for air, attempted one last attack.

Still, Dylan kicked him squarely in the chest, sending him tumbling several feet away before he landed in the mud, groaning in pain.

One minute.

That was all it took.

Three bodies lay on the muddy ground, broken, crying, or altogether on the verge of unconsciousness.

Dylan exhaled slowly, only then noticing his hands were trembling from the adrenaline rush.

When he turned around, he expected Stella either to be frozen, angry, or scolding him.

Instead, he saw tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Huh? Why are you crying?” he asked, stopping just a few steps away from her.

Stella did not answer and continued crying.

She ran toward him and threw herself into his chest.

Dylan was not ready for that, and he froze.

Completely frozen.

Her arms wrapped around him tightly, her face pressed against his chest. She sobbed quietly, trembling. Dylan stood stiff as a statue, arms hovering confused and awkwardly at his sides.

This was Stella.

Evelyn’s little sister.

Lady boss’s sister.

A girl he was supposed to help, not hug.

“Stella…” he softly whispered. So soft, he wasn’t sure she could hear it.

Before he could say more, Stella choked between sobs, “Thank you… Thank you for saving me. I owe you my life, Dylan.”

Her voice was soft, warm, and far too close to his heart.

Dylan swallowed hard.

Her scent, sweet and calming, filled his senses. Her tiny frame trembled against him. Her grip tightened like she was afraid he would disappear.

And for the first time in his life, Dylan felt something stir inside him. Something dangerous. Something he was not supposed to feel.

No woman had ever hugged him like this.

No woman had ever made his chest tighten like this.

His mind screamed at him.

‘Stop. She is Evelyn’s sister. She is too young for your old ass, buddy. Stop now before it gets too embarrassing.’

Dylan took a sharp breath, forcing his logic back.

He gently placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away, though it took more effort than expected.

“Stella…” he said quietly. “Stop crying. Let’s move first.”

He took her hand and led her toward the bright road.

Stella followed silently, still trembling slightly.

They walked together through the safer part of the street, the lights chasing away the shadows.

Only then did Dylan realize something.

He was still holding her hand.

He quickly stopped, cleared his throat, and released her fingers.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

Stella looked up, wiping her tears. Her eyes were still red, but her breathing had calmed.

Silence fell for a moment.

Finally, Dylan asked, “Why are you here? It is past eleven, Stella. You should not be outside alone.”