Page 138 of Mafia King of Lies

Fear claws at my chest, but there’s no time to process it. I push my legs harder, not caring which direction I’m going—only that I keep moving. My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out everything but the sound of my footsteps as I break through the trees

I have no real bearing of how much half a mile is, all I know is that I keep moving and winding through the thick tree, trying to make sure that I’m hard to shoot. I make it a few more feet before I catch sight of a familiar figure.

Matteo. It’s him.

He’s standing at the edge of a clearing, his gun raised, his sharp gaze sweeping the forest like a predator searching for his prey. A sob rips from my throat, my body lunging toward him before my mind even catches up.

“Matteo!” I scream, my voice raw with desperation.

His head snaps in my direction, his eyes locking onto mine. Relief flickers across his face for the briefest moment?—

Then, a gunshot rings out. Pain explodes in my arm—white-hot, searing.

I cry out, my momentum cut short as I crash to the ground. The world tilts. Dirt and leaves grind against my cheek. My arm burns. Warm liquid trickles down my skin.

No. No, no, no.

I grit my teeth and force myself up, blinking through the haze of pain. I can hear Matteo’s furious shout, the rapid fire of bullets.

Giacomo is here.

I have to move.

I push off the ground and stumble forward, my vision swimming. I don’t stop. I don’t look back. Somehow, through sheer will, I make it to the hunting cabin. I slam the door behind me, chest heaving, blood dripping from my arm. The cabin is dark and silent except for the storm raging outside.

I stumble toward the small closet, my body screaming in protest, and press myself against the cold wall, seeking refuge in the shadows. The pain in my arm is sharp—unrelenting. When I glance down, I see the wound is shallow; the bullet merely grazed me, but the sting is still unbearable.

I press the back of my head against the wall, squeezing my eyes shut, trying to steady my breath. I don’t have time to think, but I trust that Matteo or Daniele will find me before Giacomo does. They have to.

I close my eyes, praying to whatever higher power might be listening, begging that we all make it out of this alive. I can’t let this be the end.

Time stretches, each second an eternity. The silence of the cabin presses in on me, suffocating, broken only by the frantic thumping of my heart. Then, I hear it—the slow, deliberate creak of boots on the wooden porch. My breath catches in my throat as I press myself deeper into the shadows.

Who is it? My pulse spikes.

I don’t dare move, don’t dare make a sound. I can’t. I hold my breath, listening intently. The cabin is too quiet—my heartbeat too loud, the rush of blood in my ears drowning out everything else. The door creaks open, the sound slicing through the stillness like a knife.

I stay hidden, every muscle in my body coiled tight. I need to remain unseen. I need to survive.

I slap a hand over my mouth to keep from gasping. Heavy footsteps echo against the wooden floor, slow and deliberate, each step sending ice through my veins.

The terror that overtakes me is enough to tell me that it’s Giacomo. I know it’s him—he is the only one who can bring out that kind of reaction from me.

I slip backward, careful not to make a sound, but my breath is too loud, my chest rising and falling in sharp, shallow heaves. My arm burns, the blood soaking my sleeve, but the panic gnawing at me is worse. Every instinct tells me to stay quiet, but fear is drowning me. I inch toward the corner of the closet, desperate to disappear deeper into the shadows.

A floorboard groans under my weight.

I freeze.

“I know you’re in here, cara mia,” Giacomo chuckles, low and menacing.

Terror lances through me, but I don’t move. His boots scrape against the floor—slow, measured. He’s taking his time, savoring the buildup of this hunt.

“I have to admit,” he muses, “I didn’t expect Daniele to betray me so easily. But his betrayal was inevitable. He never had the stomach for this life—just like his mother. I’ll deal with him later.”

Silence follows his threat.

Then, I hear the sound of tapping against the wood, like metal coming in contact with the surface.

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