Page 32 of Mafia King's Forbidden Obsession

My answer suffices a beat later when Ezra saunters into frame, hands in his pockets. His face is hard, his frown deep and cold. Even from here, I can tell how irritated he is.

The don squats face-level with the weeping man. His head tilts to the side as his lips move–I figured he asked a question. The brawny man lowers his face, refusing to make eye contact with Ezra.

Ezra’s lips move again. This time he points to a backpack one of the assaulters held. Backpack guy empties the contents of the bag on the bald man. Guns–mostly revolvers–tumble out.

My eyes widen in realization− he stole from the cartel. From my sparse knowledge of the mafia, I know this act will not go unpunished.

As if to reiterate my thought, one of the men hands Ezra something. My blood runs cold when I see it’s a knife. I freeze, my pulse pounding in my ears.

Is this really happening again?

Ezra takes the knife like it is nothing, his movements calm. Too calm for what he's about to do next. I stop breathing when he steps toward the kneeling man, who’s now sobbing…shaking…pleading.

The man is terrified. Shit. I am terrified, too.

Without a word, Ezra leans down and slides the blade across the man’s neck.

Oh, my God!

I gasp, slapping my hand over my mouth to stifle the sound. The man crumples forward, blood pooling on the ground, and I feel like the air has been sucked out of my lungs.

I back away from the window, my legs shaky, my mind racing. Did I really just see that? Ezra just—he just killed him. How many more lives has this man taken as if he were collecting souvenirs?

Fear twists my gut and I’m once again reminded how serious of a situation this is. A killer has taken me hostage.

I take in large gulps of air to steady my nerves and not spiral into another breakdown. Something needs to be done. And I need to be quick as hell about it.

This is not a place where I can be comfortable.

I need to leave. And fast.

Chapter ten

Ezra

I’m poring over the stocks, counting the guns the stockkeeper had stolen, when Elio bursts into my office, an excited grin on his face. “He’s on the move.”

Finally, some good news after a frustrating day. I jump to my feet, exhilaration coursing through my bones. “Finally.”

With Elio taking the lead, we make our way to my study. He takes a spot at the window by the bookshelf. My feet twitch with excitement as they take steady steps to join my second in command.

“Why are we here?” I ask, as Elio hands me a pair of binoculars.

“I have had him tailed for days. This is where he comes to make his calls,” Elio clarifies.

Looking out the expansive glass, I take in the large expanse of land inside the compound. The long stretches of mowed greenery remind me of when I was a boy–the evenings I helped my mother pick out wilted flowers from flower beds, the afternoons Mother watched me play in the tranquil pond, glimmering in the distance.

The memory washes over me like melted honey, but the sensation does not last long.

“There,” Elio nods to a figure creeping into the garden.

Right on cue, I raise the binoculars to my eyes.

“Quel bastardo(That bastard),” my teeth grind.

The garden− it is the only spot without cameras. Clever. But not clever enough. This is my mansion; nothing goes on here without word getting back to me.

Just like the fool caught stealing from me this morning, this bastard is either full of bravado or just plain stupid. His slicked-back black hair glistens with a hint of grease. His scruffy, unshaven face, and sunken eyes dart from side to side like a paranoid rat, scanning his surroundings to ensure he is alone.

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