Page 29 of Mafia Crown

“That’s the price,” I reply, calm and steady.

“How do I know she’s alive?”

“You don’t,” I say. “But you don’t get her back without the money.”

Silence stretches, and I picture her on the other end, weighing her options. “Let me talk to her,” she demands.

“No.” My tone leaves no room for argument. “I’ll send the account details. Once it’s deposited, Hazel will be free.”

I hang up before she can say anything else and do as I’ve just promised, and send her the account details before I power off the phone. For a brief second, I close my eyes and exhale. One step closer. The plan is working. But there are still variables I can’t control.

Like whoever lured Charlie away.

When I walk into the living room, the heat from the fire wraps around me, thick and heavy. Hazel sits curled up in the armchair by the hearth, her legs tucked beneath her. The glow of the fire lights up her flushed cheeks, making her skin look warm and soft, but something about her posture feels...off. She’s not relaxed, not fully. Her shoulders are just a little too stiff, her breathing a little too shallow. I frown as I watch her, trying to figure out what’s different. What’s wrong?

She’s reading a book, the cover worn, the pages creased like it’s been read a hundred times before. But she doesn’t look up when I sit down across from her, and that irritates me more than it should.

What is it about her that’s gnawing at me right now? The longer I look, the more frustrated I feel. She hasn’t changed physically, but something’s shifted. I can feel it like a splinter under my skin, itching, driving me insane.

“Is it a good book?” I ask, keeping my voice casual.

She nods, but her gaze stays glued to the pages. She still won’t look at me.

I lean back in the chair, arms draped over the sides, and study her. Her eyes dart across the page, moving too quickly. She’s not reading. Not really. Her fingers are tense where they grip the edges of the book, like it’s a shield she’s using to keep me out.

She doesn’t want to look at me. There’s only one reason for that.

She’s hiding something.

But what?

I let the silence stretch, the only sounds in the room coming from the crackling fire and the soft rustle of the pages as she turns them. I could sit here all day if I needed to. I’ve got patience. I’ve honed it like a weapon over the years, and I’ll use it now to watch her squirm.

“What would you like me to make you for dinner?” I ask, shifting the tone just enough to test her reaction.

Her gaze flicks to me for a fraction of a second, then back down. Brief. Too brief. Bingo. She’s hiding something, and now I’m certain of it.

“I don’t care,” she replies, but her voice is so small, so quiet, she has to clear her throat to steady it.

I almost laugh. She’s making this too easy. But I don’t. Instead, I let the silence settle again, heavy and suffocating, and I just watch her. The tension rolls off her in waves. She knows I’m onto her. Good. Let her feel the weight of that.

I glance toward the fire, giving her just enough space to think she’s gotten away with it. Then, I drop the bait.

“I bought this property five years ago,” I say, like it’s a casual conversation starter. My eyes are on the flames, but I’m aware of her every breath, every twitch. “My hope was to live here with my sister.”

The second the words leave my mouth, her head snaps up, her body shifting like she’s just been shocked. Got her.

Her eyes lock onto mine, and for once, she isn’t trying to look away. She’s curious. Intrigued. Maybe even a little caught off guard. That’s what I wanted. I hold her gaze, letting her fall into the trap I’ve set, knowing that whatever she’s hiding will surface sooner or later. And when it does, I’ll be ready.

“Why didn’t you?” Hazel asks, her voice quiet, tentative.

I lean back, resting one ankle on the opposite knee. “My sister didn’t want to live in the mountains,” I say, keeping my tone even. “She was fifteen going on thirty, thought the world revolved around city lights, shopping malls, and her friends. She wanted big-city noise, and this place wasn’t it.”

Hazel nods, her lips pressed together like she’s thinking through my words. “So, you let it fall apart?”

I shrug. “Yeah. I let it crumble for a few years. Didn’t care much about fixing it. But two years ago, I made the choice to rebuild it. Turn it into something that was mine again.”

She watches me carefully, her body unmoving except for the faint rise and fall of her chest. Then, so softly it’s almost a whisper, she says, “Now I know where you live.”

---