Page 52 of King of Omen

‘Well done,’ he rasped at last, his eyes inscrutable as he stared at me.

His calm demeanour and ability to navigate this chaos with such ease impressed and unnerved me.

‘How do you feel about your shot?’

I blinked at him, not sure what he meant.

‘Bella, I’m asking if you’re distressed at shooting the man?’

I raised my head, understanding his question. ‘If you’re asking if I’m going to fall apart, I will not. I’m familiar with weapons, and causing a little injury to prevent a lot more death is good work.’

He huffed. ‘Badass. How about what I did?’

‘I’ve seen violence before, Lorenzo.’

‘I surmised as much.’

‘While shooting at a man who is trying to murder you is not something I condone, there’s not a lot of room for agency when someone is aiming to kill you. You had to take a clear course of action to make them stop, and there were no real alternatives besides returning fire. How you absolve yourself is your own doing.’

His eyes narrowed, and he scoffed again. ‘You’re something else, Mia.’

The sound of a car pulling up outside broke through our locked gaze.

Moments later, the doorbell rang.

‘Stay here,’ Lorenzo murmured.

I had no plans to do otherwise.

I listened as he tracked the front door and turned on the security feed beside the touch-pad.

A series of murmurs were exchanged, and the entryway swung open.

Unable to help myself, I peeked out through a crack in the study door

Mauri’s ex-military contacts had arrived. They were a rough-looking bunch, all muscle and tattoos, but their eyes held a steely tenacity.

‘Mauri’s out cold,’ Lorenzo told them.

One of the individuals said, ‘He gave us the breakdown, so that’s alright. Our body shop will take care of it.’

‘Specifics, please,’ Lorenzo murmured, his eyes narrowed, his stance wary.

‘We’ll disappear it at our funeral home, cremate it. It’ll be gone as if it’d never been here.’

‘One’s alive,’ Lorenzo stated. ‘Do you have somewhere you can hold him until I decide what to do with him?’

The late-night guests whispered.

‘I’ll pay what you ask,’ Lorenzo sighed.

‘We’ve got safe houses,’ they muttered.

More murmurs ensued, and an agreement was reached. The men strode past the door as I hid behind and disappeared towards the garage.

Serenaded by Mauri’s sonorous snores, I stayed hidden, my ear inclined to the indistinct voices and thumps from the carport.

In time, Lorenzo returned to the study, his gaze flickering over my face, settling on a point beyond me.

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