Page 60 of Mafia Crown

Patrick exhales slowly, tapping his fingers against his glass. He turns the words over in his mind. Weighs them. Then he nods. “You make a great case, Kieran.” He shifts, eyes glinting in the low light. “But I don’t think Hazel living would really be in my best interest.”

Hazel stiffens.

Patrick raises a brow, amusement flickering in his expression. “So, you were bluffing about handing her over.”

I shake my head. “I’ve never disobeyed you, Patrick. But I’ve always said—no women. No children.”

A long pause. Then, Patrick nods. “You are a man of your word.”

He moves before I can react, extracting a gun with a smooth efficiency that speaks of years of practice. Hazel’s breath catches behind me.

Patrick aims.

I don’t hesitate. I step fully in front of her.

Praying that Hazel is wrong. And that I am bulletproof.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

KIERAN

I STAND BETWEEN Hazel and the gun, my body a shield, my stance unwavering. Patrick doesn’t lower his aim. His finger rests just outside the trigger guard, his expression unreadable. He’s thinking. That’s good. Any hesitation is good.

“I've eliminated the threat by taking Sean out,” I say, keeping my voice even. “I’ve also handed you evidence of who was behind Mary’s failed kidnapping. I'm asking for this one mercy.”

Patrick doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. The weight of his silence presses down, thick and suffocating. The tension in the room coils around us like a noose. Then, after what feels like an eternity, Patrick lowers the gun.

“You have always been loyal,” he says, nodding once. “And with all this new evidence, I will give you this.”

Relief comes swiftly, but I don’t let it show. My feet stay planted, my body still blocking Hazel even as Patrick slides the gun back into his holster.

I’m not done.

“I want out,” I say.

Patrick’s gaze sharpens. He tilts his head slightly, studying me. “Out of what?”

I meet his eyes. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to start fresh.”

Patrick smiles, but there’s no humor in it. It’s all teeth and darkness, a predator baring fangs. “No one ever gets out, Kieran.”

My stomach twists, but I keep my face neutral. I can’t afford to show doubt. “People do.”

“The only way anyone gets out of this game is in a box.”

His words sink like a blade between my ribs. He believes that. Maybe it’s even true. But I won’t accept it. I watch his hands, looking for any sign of movement.

“I don’t fancy a box,” I say.

Patrick grins. “I didn’t think so.”

He turns his back, and I use the moment to glance at Hazel. She’s pale, paler than I’ve ever seen her. She looks like she’s about to be sick. I want to reach for her, to reassure her, but now isn’t the time.

Patrick removes his tin from his jacket pocket and removes a cigar; I have to stand for what feels like forever before he lights it and takes a deep inhale. He exhales a slow stream of smoke from his cigar. “Hazel can live,” he says, his voice smooth. “But if she breathes one word—”

Hazel steps out from behind me before I can stop her. “I swear,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “You have my word.”

Patrick nods. “We shall see.”

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