Page 54 of Mafia Kingdom

Typical Marco—giving orders even in his absence. I sit up, wincing slightly at the pleasant soreness between my thighs. Memories flood back: Marco's hands on my skin, his mouth hungry against mine, the weight of him pressing me into the mattress. I'd given myself to him completely, surrendered in a way I never have with anyone before.

"What were you thinking, Sasha?" I mutter to myself, running a hand through my tangled hair.

I wasn't thinking—that's the problem. I was feeling, wanting, needing. After years of keeping men at arm's length, of focusing solely on Lily and my career, I'd fallen into bed with the most dangerous man I know. A killer. A criminal.

Yet somewhere along the way, the lines have blurred. I'm no longer sure if I'm staying because he's forcing me to or because I want to. And that terrifies me more than any threat he's ever made.

I slide out of bed, wrapping myself in the silk robe that had been discarded on the floor last night. In the adjoining bathroom, I catch sight of myself in the mirror—lips still slightly swollen from his kisses, a small bruise forming at the junction of my neck and shoulder where his teeth had grazed my skin. I look different somehow. Changed.

The shower feels heavenly, hot water washing away the physical remnants of the night while doing nothing to clear the confusion in my mind. Today marks the second day of our agreement. By tonight, I should be free to get Lily, as Marco promised.

But do I still want to leave?

The question ambushes me as I'm toweling off, stopping me in my tracks. Of course, I want to leave. I need to. Lily needs stability, normalcy—not a life surrounded by armed guards and the constant threat of violence. I can't raise her in a world where men like Marco solve problems with bullets and blood.

No matter what happened between us last night, no matter how my heart races when he looks at me, my priority has to be Lily. Always.

After dressing in jeans and a simple blue blouse from the clothes Marco had provided, I try calling Aunt Karen again. The phone rings six times before going to voicemail. A knot of anxiety tightens in my stomach. Why isn't she answering? Is Lily okay?

I try again with the same result. Something doesn't feel right. Karen has always been prompt about answering calls, especially since Lily's been staying with her.

Buddy appears at the bedroom door, tail wagging in greeting. At least one constant remains in my chaotic life. I scratch behind his ears, finding comfort in his uncomplicated affection.

"Let's get you some breakfast, boy. And maybe find out where everyone's gone."

The hallways of Marco's mansion feel eerily quiet as I make my way downstairs with Buddy trotting at my heels. Usually, there are at least a few guards posted at strategic points, but today, I pass only one man near the main staircase. He nods respectfully but offers no information when I ask about Marco's whereabouts.

In the kitchen, I find some fruit and toast for myself and fill Buddy's bowl with the special food Marco had ordered for him. The thoughtfulness of that gesture still surprises me. Marco Walsh, ruthless mob boss, concerned about my dog's digestive issues.

As I eat, I check my phone again. Still no response from Karen. My unease grows, making the toast taste like cardboard in my mouth. I need to get to Lily, need to see with my own eyes that she's safe.

Movement in the driveway catches my attention through the kitchen window. A group of Marco's men are huddled in conversation, their body language tense. I catch fragments of their discussion as I move closer to the window.

"...funeral tomorrow morning..." "...Boss wants extra security..." "...after what happened to Danny..."

Danny—Marco's younger brother. The one who was shot. So they're having the funeral tomorrow. I feel a pang of sympathy for Marco despite everything. No matter what kind of men they are, losing a brother must be devastating.

The men disperse, and I notice the security presence seems lighter than usual. Many of Marco's regular guards mustbe busy with funeral preparations. A thought begins to form—a dangerous, desperate thought.

I return to my room, mind racing. I've been exploring the estate bit by bit during my captivity, noting potential exits, memorizing the guards' routines. There's a service passage near the east wing that’s rarely used and minimally monitored. If I'm going to make a move, now might be my only chance.

But do I really want to run? After last night? After everything?

I pace the room, Buddy watching me with curious eyes. Marco said we'd discuss getting Lily after our two days were up. Maybe I should trust him, wait for his return, remind him of our agreement.

But Karen isn't answering, and every instinct I have is screaming that something's wrong. I can't sit here doing nothing while my sister might be in danger.

Decision made, I grab a jacket and slip my phone into my pocket. Buddy follows as I make my way down the back staircase, avoiding the main areas where I might be seen. The service passage is exactly where I remember it, hidden behind a nondescript door that looks like a closet to the casual observer.

The passage is dim and dusty, clearly unused for years. It smells of mildew and old wood, but it leads directly to a small door that opens onto the gardens. From there, I can make my way to the perimeter wall. I've noticed a section where the ivy grows thick enough to potentially climb, if I'm careful.

Freedom is so close I can taste it.

Buddy and I emerge into the bright afternoon sunlight. I keep close to the hedges, moving from shadow to shadow. The gardens are extensive, designed for beauty rather than security, which works in my favor now. My heart pounds against my ribs, adrenaline making my hands shake slightly.

I'm halfway to the wall when the sound of an approaching vehicle makes me freeze. Through the foliage, I catch sight of Marco's SUV pulling into the driveway. I should hide, wait for him to go inside, then continue my escape.

Instead, I find myself moving toward the gate, drawn like a magnet despite all logic and self-preservation. I need to see him, need to understand what last night meant, need to remind him of his promise about Lily.

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