Ruth Lee (TAMING THE MAFIA PRINCESS )

Ruth Lee's POV

The tension was palpable, and it could have been cut with a knife. Frank Xia had my wrist in an iron grip, like a vice that I couldn't free myself from. His gaze bored into mine, sharp and calculating, as if to solve a puzzle visible only to him.

"You're hurting me," I whispered, my voice trembling despite the best effort to keep my tone even.

Frank glanced down, his expression flickering with something unreadable before he loosened his grip. But he didn't let go. Of course, he wouldn't. Frank Xia was not a man who left loose ends.

"We're leaving. Now," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I stumbled a little as he dragged me towards the front door, his strides too long to keep up with. Our footsteps, in quick succession, sounded loudly in the inordinately quiet house. I could only stutter, "Wait, my bag! It's upstairs."

Frank stopped so suddenly I almost ran into him. Turning around to face me, his dark eyes narrowed. "Forget the bag. Whatever you need, we'll replace it."

"No!" I exploded, astonishing myself. "The contents can't be replaced. It's… it's important. Please."

For a moment, I thought he'd refuse, but then he exhaled heavily, running a hand through his dark hair. "Fine. But I'm coming with you."

I nodded quickly, too shaken to argue. Honestly, I didn't want to go anywhere alone. My legs were already wobbly, and the thought of returning to that room by myself made my stomach churn.

"Lead the way," he said gruffly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine.

We climbed the stairs in silence, the tension between us palpable. My guestroom door creaked slightly as I pushed it open, and I hastened inside to grab my tote bag. The weight of the documents inside was both reassuring and daunting. These papers held secrets-ones my father had sworn me to protect at all costs. I slung the bag over my shoulder and turned to find Frank standing in the doorway, his arms crossed, his eyes scanning the room like a hawk.

"Done," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded once. "Stay close."

We descended the stairs quickly, but not quickly enough for my liking. My nerves were fraying by the second. The memory of the gunshot still echoed in my ears, and every shadow seemed to hold a hidden threat. Frank's presence was the only thing keeping me from completely unraveling.

We turned to the front door, where he abruptly halted and faced me. "Listen up. When we go out there, you're gonna get in that car and you're gonna stay there. No matter what, don't get out. Understand?"

I swallowed hard. "But what if something happens to you?"

His lips quivered-not quite a smile, but close. "I'm not that easy to get rid of."

The fear twisting in my gut wasn't enough to stop my eyes from rolling. "Famous last words."

The darkening of his features seemed to grow more sinister. "This isn't a joke, Ruth. Do exactly as I say, or neither of us will make it out of here."

That shut me up. I nodded silently, and he opened the door, stepping out first. The cool night air hit me like a slap, and I instinctively stayed close behind him. He moved purposefully and efficiently as he led me toward the garage, his eyes scanning every few steps, his body tense, ready for action.

When we reached the garage, he stopped and turned to me. "Wait here."

Before I could say a word, he vanished into the darkness. I was frozen in place, my grip on my purse like it was some sort of lifeline. My mind was already racing with worst-case scenarios. What if the shooter was still out there? What if Frank didn't come back? What if…

No. I couldn't go there. He'd been so calm and collected this whole time. If anyone knew how to handle this, it was Frank Xia.

But then the shooting began.

Frank Xia's POV

The first shot rang out just as I reached the car. Instinct kicked in, and I dove for cover, my body hitting the ground hard. The shooter was somewhere in the trees, their aim precise but not perfect. Yet.

"Coward," I muttered under my breath, pulling my phone from my pocket. I sent a quick message to Luke to bring backup, now. Then I crouched low and started to move, making use of cars and shadows to screen myself.

Another shot whizzed past me, the gravel mere inches from my foot. I clenched my jaw. Whoever this was, they were good. But not good enough.

I reached the side of the garage and slapped my back against the wall, scanning the area. The shooter was smart. He stayed concealed in the cover of darkness. But they'd made one critical mistake: they'd underestimated me.

"You've got one chance to walk away," I called out, my voice steady, cold. "Take it."

I waited, silence. Then another shot, this time closer. I smiled; they were trying to get me out into the open and weren't particularly subtle about it.

I counted off more seconds, listening. And then I heard the barest rustling of leaves, slight shifting weight against earth as they shifted around. They were closing in for the kill angle. Amateur.

I burst out from behind the wall, quick and professional. The shooter shot again, but they missed. By the time they realized their mistake, it was too late. I was on them.

The struggle was short but fierce. They were strong, but I was stronger. In one swift motion, I had them disarmed and was pinning them to the ground, my knee in their back.

"Who sent you?" I demanded, my voice low and deadly.

They didn't answer. Instead, they struggled harder, trying to break free. I pressed down harder, eliciting a grunt of pain.

"Talk," I growled.

"Go to hell," they spat.

I smirked. "Already been there. Now, last chance. Who sent you?

Headlights cut through the darkness before they could respond, and Luke's car screeched to a stop. Luke and two of my men jumped out, guns drawn.

"Took you long enough," I muttered as they approached.

Luke grinned. "You seemed like you had it under control."

I rolled my eyes and stepped back, letting my men take over. "Get him out of here. I want answers by morning."

They nodded, pulling the shooter, still struggling, away. I turned back toward the garage, my head already racing with questions. Who did this? And why now?

Ruth Lee's POV

I have never been as scared in my entire life. The shots made me run in utter panic. My knees buckled, and I went down to the ground, clutching my bag as if somehow it would protect me. My breathing was in short gasps, and my heart was like it was going to blow out of my chest.

I had attempted to hold it together, but the silence following the firing of the guns was worse than the shots. Was Frank all right? For that matter, was he alive? The image of him lying dead somewhere churned my stomach.

The sound of his approaching footsteps took me away from my spiraling thoughts. I held my breath as my body stopped trembling. The creaky garage door swung open, and I screwed my eyes shut, waiting for the worst.

"Ruth?" His voice was low and smooth, yet with one thread of urgency in it.

My eyes snapped open, and relief flooded in. "Frank!"

He stepped inside and regarded me, his eyes roving over me. "Are you hurt?"

I shook my head, too overwhelmed even to speak. He bent down in front of me, hands reaching out gently yet firmly to pull me to my feet.

"We need to go," he said, "now.".

I nodded, and he steered me toward the car. My legs were jelly, but his solid presence kept me anchored. As we swung into the car, I couldn't help the glance in his direction. He was just as calm, composed as ever, but there was an edge in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

"What happened out there?" My question came out barely above a whisper.

He didn't answer at once. Instead, he started the engine and reversed out of the garage in quick, sharp motions. It wasn't until we were on the main road that he spoke.

"No reason for concern on your part," he replied briefly.

I frowned. "Frank, I—"

"Ruth," he repeated much softer the second time. "I'll explain what's going on. Just not right now."