Page 3 of Mafia Kingdom

“When will they come back?” I ask.

“In the morning. They stay for a few hours every day and then leave.”

"Why our garage?" I ask, disbelief making my voice shake. "There must be dozens of abandoned buildings they could use."

Dad's laugh was hollow. "That's exactly why, Sasha. The Gardai watch those places. But a family home in the countryside? With a respectable man and his daughter?" He shakes his head. "They hide in plain sight. Dave told me they've been operating this way for years—moving between different homes, paying desperate people for their silence and space. No one suspects, and if they get caught, the homeowner takes the fall."

Desperation sets in. I need help, and fast. There's only one person I can think of who might have the resources and connections I need: Marco, the local mafia leader. The thought makes my stomach churn. He's ruthless, dangerous, but I have no other choice.

I sit there, staring at my father, my mind racing with plans and possibilities. How did it come to this? “You should have called me.”

My father stands, and some of the grief leaves his features. I rise, too.

“I thought I could take care of it myself.”

I have so many questions, but I know I have only a day to get help before the men return. So, asking my father how he fell behind in his mortgage repayments will have to wait.

I know I need to get Lily out of this house and find a way to contact Marco.

It’s time to make a deal with the devil.

CHAPTER TWO

Marco

GRAVEL CRUNCHES UNDER the tires, a rhythmic reminder of how far I’ve driven and how isolated I’ve become in the countryside. The safehouse finally comes into view, a dilapidated structure hidden among towering pine trees, its sagging roof and boarded windows a testament to its abandonment. I pull up and kill the engine, the sudden silence amplifying the ringing in my ears.

I step out of the car, the crunch of gravel under my boots the only sound in the oppressive stillness. My breath clouds in the frigid air, forming little puffs that dissipate quickly. The chill is sharp. I approach the door but hesitate for a moment, my hand hovering over the handle, a flood of thoughts and doubts swirling in my mind. What am I walking into this time? My father, who is the head of the Mafia, didn’t exactly give me a lot of information. Just small details that Danny, my youngest brother, would be here, and we had to secure the product.

With our line of work, product could mean anything, from guns, to drugs, even people. I scan my surroundings one last time before taking a deep breath, and turn the door handle, and then step into the house.

The door creaks open into a large open space. The partitions that once separated the house stand barren. All the drywall was removed. I’m not sure if it was like this when my father secured the small property on five acres. From my vantage point, I can see Danny sitting at the table in the center of the room, his face illuminated by a flickering bulb hanging overhead. Danny is engrossed in his phone, but he looks up, a smirk tugging at his lips. His dark eyes danced with mischief just like they always have. We all have our father’s dark black hair, dark brown eyes, and height. We are carbon copies of our father.

"Marco, you look like you’ve seen better days," he says, leaning back in his chair.

I force a smile. "Long night. What’s the deal, Danny? What’s the product?"

He shrugs, his nonchalance irritating me. "I haven’t checked. I’ve been waiting for you, but Dad said it’s in the basement.”

I clench my fists, trying to keep my frustration in check, I thought he would tell me straight away. "What have you been doing?"

Danny chuckles, pocketing his phone. “Chatting with some woman.”

Danny always had a string of women following him around, and he happened to oblige. I, on the other hand, didn’t entertain women; they entertained me, and then when I got what I wanted, I moved on.

No commitments. No strings.

"Let’s check the basement,” I say, ready for this night to be over.

Danny’s smirk widens. “I wonder what’s down there.”

“We'll find out soon,” I say.

As he heads toward the basement door, I follow, my mind racing. "You know, Dad could have given us a little more information before we dive into whatever this is."

He glances back at me, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Where’s the fun in that, Marco? You always were the cautious one."

I sigh, my patience wearing thin. "Caution keeps us alive, Danny. You, of all people, should know that."

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