Page 46 of Mafia Crown

How stupid was I? I wouldneverhave been this reckless. Normally, I’d have assessed the danger, stayed ten steps ahead. But not tonight. No, tonight I let Hazel’s words crack me open, and my pride dragged me into this mess, headfirst and blind.

And now she’s alone and unguarded.

My jaw clenches as that realization cuts deeper than the gun ever could.

“Take him back to the house and tie him up,” the guy I had been chasing says. His voice is steady, authoritative. He’s the one calling the shots.

I grin through the pulse of fury pounding in my head. “That sounds like a very stupid idea.”

Before I can blink, pain explodes at the base of my skull as the man behind me strikes me with the butt of his gun. The impact sends me to my knees, the ground hard and unforgiving beneath me. My vision blurs, and for a second, I hear nothing but the dull ringing in my ears.

“What’s stupid is chasing an armed man,” the guy I chased says, kneeling down so we’re eye level. My head spins slightly, but I plant my hands firmly in the dirt to stay upright. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me drop.

“No,you’restupid,” I mumble, low and slurred. There’s no way he heard me.

He leans in closer, his head tilting. “What?”

I mumble again, softer this time, and he glances up at his partner with a laugh. “You hit him a little too hard,” he says, chuckling.

They laugh together, and that’s their mistake. The exact moment I need.

Before he can react, I spring. My forehead slams into his nose, and the crack is instant, satisfying. He yelps, but I’m already on him, grabbing him and spinning his body to use as a shield. His weight presses against me, but I keep him upright, one arm locked around his neck as I drag us to our feet and pat him down with my free hand. No gun. Just a knife.

I pull the blade free, the cold handle in my hand, and press it to his throat. His breathing is frantic, and I feel the pulse racing beneath the edge of the knife. His friend stands a few feet away, still pointing the gun, but he doesn’t fire. That tells me everything I need to know.

He’s hesitating.

I have time.

“How many of you are there?” I demand, voice low and steady.

The man in my arms chokes out a response. “Just the two of us.”

“Who sent you?”

His body tenses, and his partner opens his mouth to answer.

“Mike, don’t.”

I tighten my grip, making the knife bite just enough for him to feel it. “Who sent you?”

Mike raises the gun higher, his hand unsteady. His aim wavers, and although I can’t see his face, his eyes betray him. He’s panicking. I can tell from the way his fingers tremble against the trigger.

He’s going to pull it.

And I know exactly what’s coming.

When he fires, I’m already moving. I shift my hostage in front of me, but the bullet clips my arm and tears through his neck, spraying blood across my chest and face. His body slumps instantly, dead weight dragging me down. I drop him without a second thought and hurl the knife at Mike, my hand moving on instinct.

He pulls the trigger again, but it’s too late. The bullet flies harmlessly into the night while the knife buries itself in the center of his forehead with a sickeningthunk.His body wavers for half a second, then crumples to the ground.

I don’t wait to see him hit the dirt.

I’m already running, sprinting through the trees, tearing across the ground with one thought hammering in my skull—Hazel.

I can’t get there fast enough. My arm burns where the bullet grazed me, but I ignore it, pushing harder, faster. The only thing that matters is getting back to her. I was stupid to leave her, and if anything’s happened—no.Nothing has happened.

It can’t have. I won’t let it.

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