Page 24 of Mafia Kingdom

I glance at my hands; blood has caked itself into the cracks of my hands. I run my forefinger down one of the lines; they say it’s the heart line; mine is a semi-circle around the thumb. A strong heart - a long life. Yet, it could have ended so quickly.I clench my fists, the movement catching the attention of one of the bodyguards.

Minutes feel like hours, but finally, Marco returns. His face is unreadable, but his presence brings a strange mix of comfort and anxiety.

“Let’s get you home,” he says, his voice gentle but firm.

“I need to get Buddy,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.

Marco frowns, glances at both his men and with a quick nod, they follow his silent command and leave us alone.

I don’t want to be alone with Marco right now. He takes a step toward the bed I'm sitting on. He’s so close, and when he steps in between my legs, I can’t hold eye contact.

A finger touches my chin and tilts my head up. The touch is gentle, but his eyes aren’t.

“Who the fuck is Buddy?”

It takes me a moment to answer. The halo of light behind his dark head makes me think of angels and demons. He’s a dark angel. A dangerous one, whom I shouldn’t be looking at like I am right now.

“My dog.”

He releases my chin, steps back, and nods.

“Alright. We’ll get your dog.”

As we start to move, another thought strikes me, and guilt washes over me like a tidal wave. “I need to see my dad,” I blurt out, realizing I hadn’t mentioned him in the chaos.

Marco pauses, his eyes softening just a fraction. “Come with me.”

He leads me down a quiet corridor to a private room. How much is this costing? How will I pay Marco back?My heart hammers in my chest as he opens the door. Inside, my dad is lying on a hospital bed, asleep but alive. Relief floods through me, so intense it almost knocks me off my feet.

“He’s going to be okay?” I whisper, tears springing to my eyes.

Marco stands beside me, his presence steady and reassuring. “He’s going to be okay. He just needs to rest.”

I turn to Marco, my voice choked with emotion. “Thank you, Marco. For everything.” I’ll find a way to pay him back.

He gives a curt nod, his eyes softening just a bit. “Let’s get you home now.”

I take one last look at my dad, promising myself I’ll be back soon. As we leave the room, the tension in my chest eases a little. I have my dad, and soon, I’ll have my dog. And maybe, just maybe, things will start to get better from here.

Chapter Twelve

Sasha

BUDDY HAS SETTLED into the back seat of Marco’s car. I rub his head, but as Marco starts the car, I clip my seatbelt into place.

I’m not crying. I should be, shouldn’t I? Instead, my hands are trembling, my mind racing with anger and shock. Baz was shot, and I can’t seem to process it. The images replay in my head like a horror movie on a loop—Baz, the gunshot, his body slamming back into the seat. Was the shooter aiming for me? Did Baz get shot because of the mess I got us into?

I grip the edge of the car seat, my knuckles white. It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t dragged Baz into my problems with those drug dealers, he’d still be okay; I feel a wave of guilt crash over me.

I glance over at Marco, who’s driving with a clenched jaw. His presence is both comforting and unsettling. He saved me, but I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to his anger than just concern for my safety.

“Tell me how you ended up in a car with Baz?” Marco’s voice is sharp, slicing through the thick silence. His fingers grip the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are pale.

“I wanted to see my dad,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. The tension in the car is suffocating.

“I told you I would take you,” he barks, his anger flaring up like a matchstick.

“You weren't there,” I say, stunned by the intensity of his hostility. My words hang in the air, heavy and accusatory.

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