After betrayed, I abandoned my gangster husband

The salt from my sweat stung the fresh surgical scar on my abdomen, a constant reminder of the kidnapping attempt three months ago. Mike's weight was heavy, his movements urgent and demanding as he pressed me into the mattress.

"Mike," I gasped, my fingers digging into his muscular shoulders.

"Stay with me, Elaine," he growled, his voice thick with a heat I had mistaken for devotion for five years. "Right here. Fuck, you're perfect."

He moved with a frantic energy, his hands gripping my hips tight enough to leave bruises. In the dark, I couldn't see his face, but I felt the familiar rhythm of his body against mine. Every thrust sent a jolt of pain through my weakened frame, but I welcomed it. I had survived three shootings, two poisonings, and a stabbing for this man. The pain was just the price of being the wife of the city's most powerful underworld king.

"I love you," I whispered, the words catching in my throat. "Always."

He didn't answer with words. He just let out a low, guttural sound as he hit his peak, his body tensing before he collapsed onto me. For a few minutes, the only sound in the room was our synchronized breathing. He rolled off, the sheets sticking to my damp skin.

"You're exhausted," Mike said, his voice returning to that smooth, authoritative calm. He leaned over and kissed my forehead. "Go to sleep, baby. You look pale."

"Are you staying?" I reached out, my hand trembling slightly. My body felt like it was made of glass these days. The doctors said the stress and the injuries had taken a permanent toll on my heart.

"I have to handle a situation at the docks," he said, already sliding out of bed. "Business doesn't stop because I'm tired."

"Be careful. The Moretti family is still looking for an opening."

Mike chuckled, the sound dry and hollow. "Let them look. I've got everything under control."

I watched his silhouette as he dressed in the dark. He moved with a grace that masked his lethality. He zipped up his jacket, checked his sidearm, and walked toward the door.

"I love you, Elaine," he said, the ritualistic phrase he uttered every single night.

"I love you too, Mike."

The door clicked shut. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the heavy dose of sleep medication I'd taken earlier to kick in. My body throbbed. My lungs felt heavy. But I was happy. Or at least, I told myself I was. Five years of being the target on his back had been worth it because I believed I was his world.

A muffled voice drifted through the heavy oak door. Mike hadn't walked away yet. He was standing in the hallway, talking to his lead assistant, Gabe.

I sat up slowly, the movement sending a sharp pinch through my side. The vents in this old mansion carried sound perfectly if you knew where to listen.

"The car is downstairs,