Page 36 of Mafia Crown

The ground shifts beneath my feet as he pulls me backward, away from the trail, away from Charlie’s distant barks and any hope of being found.No. No.My body fights, twisting and kicking, but the way he grips me—tight, calculated—makes every movement feel useless. My legs kick at the dirt, my boots scraping against the ground, but I can’t get traction.

Think, Hazel. Think.

His arm tightens around my waist, crushing my ribcage. I can feel the heat of his breath near my ear as he grunts, dragging me further into the tree line. My lungs burn, and my vision blurs. I claw at his hand, covering my mouth, nails breaking against his skin, but he barely grunts.

No. I’m not dying here. I’m not dying like this.

I twist violently, throwing my weight to the side, and for a second, his grip loosens. Just a second—but it’s enough for me to slam my elbow back into his gut. He curses under his breath, but instead of letting go, he spins me around and shoves me face-first into a tree.

Pain explodes across my forehead as the bark scrapes my skin. My knees buckle, but I catch myself, pushing off the tree and trying to lunge forward. His hand tangles in my hair, yanking me back. I let out a muffled scream, kicking backward, my boot connecting with his shin. He stumbles, but his grip doesn’t falter.

I bite down on the hand covering my mouth hard enough that the metallic tang of blood hits my tongue. He hisses, yanking his hand back for a split second, and I take the chance to scream.

“Help!” My voice is raw, desperate. “Kieran!”

The man curses again, spinning me around and shoving me to the ground. My back hits the dirt, knocking the wind out of me, and before I can scramble away, he’s on top of me, pinning my wrists to the ground.

I thrash beneath him, twisting and bucking, but his weight presses down like a boulder, crushing me into the earth. I can’t breathe. I can’t think.

“No,” I gasp, my voice cracking. My legs kick wildly, but the man presses his knee into my thigh, pinning me down. His face is shadowed beneath the hood of his jacket, but I can see his eyes—cold, emotionless, like he’s done this before.

I scream again, tears blurring my vision as I twist my wrists, trying to free myself. One hand slips free, and I slam it against the side of his head. He grunts, but instead of loosening his grip, he grabs my wrist and slams it back down into the dirt.

The weight of fear is suffocating. My lungs scream for air as my body fights to survive, but the longer this struggle drags on, the weaker I feel. My muscles burn, my mind races, and somewhere in the haze of panic, I think,This is how it ends.

But then I hear it—footsteps. Heavy, fast, closing in.

Kieran.

A sob of relief chokes me, but it’s cut short as the man’s hand clamps around my throat, squeezing just enough to make me freeze. His gaze flickers to the noise behind him, and that’s when Kieran appears.

He’s bleeding, his face smeared with dirt and blood, but he’s alive. His eyes lock on mine for half a second before they narrow on the man holding me down.

“Let her go,” Kieran growls, his voice low and dangerous.

The man doesn’t have time to respond. Kieran lunges, and everything happens too fast for me to follow. One second, the man’s weight is pressing me into the ground; the next, Kieran is on him, tackling him to the side.

I scramble back, coughing and gasping for air as I watch the fight unfold. Kieran’s fist connects with the man’s jaw, the sound like a crack of thunder. The man grunts, swinging wildly, but Kieran ducks and slams his elbow into the man’s ribs. They hit the ground hard, wrestling in the dirt, each blow more vicious than the last.

My fingers dig into the ground, nails clawing at the earth as I try to pull myself up. My legs tremble, but I can’t take my eyes off them; Charlie’s barks grow closer until he’s beside me, trying to jump up to make sure I’m okay, but I can’t look away from the fight. Kieran’s movements are brutal and precise like he’s been trained for this, but the stranger fights like a cornered animal, desperate and dangerous.

The man grabs a rock, swinging it toward Kieran’s head, but Kieran catches his wrist mid-swing. His other hand moves fast—too fast to see—and suddenly, the man jerks, his body stiffening.

I blink, and then I see it—the knife. The blade is buried deep in the man’s chest, right below his ribcage. Kieran twists it once before yanking it free, and the man collapses, blood pooling beneath him. His body twitches once, then goes still.

Silence.

The only sound is my ragged breathing and the distant rustle of leaves in the wind. My chest heaves as I stare at the body, the reality of what just happened crashing down on me like a tidal wave.

Kieran wipes the blade on the man’s jacket and turns to me. His face is stone cold, but the blood dripping from the cut above his eyebrow tells me he’s barely holding it together.

He places his finger to his lips, telling me to be quiet as he stays kneeling, listening for any movement; the only sound we hear is Charlie barking as he circles me as if sensing the danger of the situation.

It feels like forever we stay like that before he gets up, and he grabs my arm, pulling me to my feet.

I swallow hard, my legs shaking so badly I can barely stand. I want to tell him I’m sorry. I want to explain that I wasn’t trying to die, that I just needed a chance to escape. But the words stick in my throat.

He doesn’t wait for me to speak. His grip tightens, and he starts walking, dragging me back toward the house as if he can’t get me there fast enough. His gaze scanning our surroundings as if he’s waiting for more men to appear.

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