Page 22 of Mafia Kingdom

"Where's James?" I ask, my voice flat.

Father barely looks up. He adjusts his cuff, a slight shift of his wrist, before meeting my gaze. "You know how he doesn't deal well with things like this."

I don't buy it. Not for a second. "Right." My tone drips with disbelief.

Before he can come up with another excuse, Damien steps out into the hallway. He’s a carbon copy of me and Lucas—same sharp jaw, same cold stare—but where we still have traces of something human, he’s…empty. Not just detached. Hollow.

He walks past without a word, without even acknowledging us.

I glance at Father. "Is he alright?"

He exhales through his nose. "None of us are." His hand lands on my shoulder, a firm squeeze, then he lets go. His expression hardens. "Now, let’s get to work and bring down the bastard who shot my son."

I nod once. The air thickens with the weight of it all—time to end this.

Chapter Eleven

Sasha

I WAKE UP, momentarily disoriented, and then feel a warm, furry presence beside me. Rubbing Buddy’s head, I take a moment to remember where I am. Marco’s home. He said I can go today. But as I scratch behind Buddy’s ears, a nagging thought creeps in—how did he even get here? Did Marco go back and get him? That wouldn’t make sense. He wasn’t with me when Marco took me, so when did Buddy end up at Marco’s house? I let the thought go. It doesn’t matter. I’m just happy he’s here with me.

Then, another memory from last night slams into me—Marco pulling a gun on me. My chest tightens. I should be more afraid, shouldn’t I? The image of his cold, steady hand gripping the weapon flashes through my mind, but there was no hesitation, no warning. Just control. The way he looked at me… I shake the thought away. There’s no time for that now.

I slept in my clothes, which are now wrinkled and uncomfortable, but it’s not like I have anything with me to change into. I get out of bed and head downstairs.

As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I see the guards standing by the entrance. “Where’s Marco?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

“He isn’t here,” one of the guards replies curtly.

I curse under my breath. “Marco said I can go see my dad. You need to let me out.”

The guards exchange glances, and one of them shakes his head. “No can do.”

Frustration wells up inside me. “He said I could call him if there was any problem.”

The other guard looks at me, seemingly more sympathetic but still firm. “Marco can’t be disturbed. He didn’t mention anything about you leaving.”

I feel a surge of anger and helplessness. Why does everything have to be so complicated? They still say no, and I know arguing won’t get me anywhere.I go back to my room like I’m about to give in.

Thinking quickly, I take out my phone and look up Baz’s number. He answers after a few rings. I try to keep my voice calm and composed. “Hey, Baz. Marco said I can see my dad, but I need a lift. Can you help me out?”

There’s a pause on the other end. I know this is a long shot. “We could maybe have that date,” I add, feeling a pang of guilt. This will not end well.

He hesitates, but then his voice softens. “I’ll be there shortly.” He never asks me where I am, so I can assume all of Marco’s crew must know.

I hang up, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. This plan might be a terrible idea, but it’s the only one I have. Grabbing my jacket and stuffing my phone back in my pocket, I head back down stairs.

“Baz is collecting me,” I say to the one guard who still watches me.He doesn't stop me as I pull open the front door. I’m sure he is ringing Baz to make sure I’m telling the truth.

I wait anxiously by the door until Baz pulls up, his car coming to a stop. I head out, Buddy trotting faithfully by myside. Baz’s eyes narrow slightly at the sight of the dog, but he says nothing, just motions for us to get in. I can tell he’s not exactly thrilled about the extra passenger. I’m sure his Porsche has never had an animal in it. The interior looks like it just left a showroom.

“Thanks for this,” I say, trying to keep things cordial as I slide into the passenger seat. “Once I see my dad, maybe we can go on that date.”

He nods, a faint smile playing on his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You can shower at my place if you want,” he offers, but there’s something in his gaze that makes me uneasy.

“I’ll shower at home and put on something nicer,” I reply quickly, rolling down the window for some fresh air. The car feels suffocating, both from the tension and the stale air. I have to find a way to get rid of him eventually, but right now, my focus is solely on my dad.

We drive in silence for a while until Baz speaks up. “You know, I remember seeing you at a house party once.”

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