Page 50 of No Longer Mine

I followed, silent, calculated, my steps lining up with the distant hum of traffic, the occasional gust of wind rattling through the alley.

He pulled out his phone, muttering curses under his breath. I knew exactly what he was about to do—call whoever he thought could save him.

Benson cut the signal before the call could connect.

Tony’s breath hitched, his pace quickening.

I let him take five more steps, then I stepped into his path. His body collided with mine, a startled grunt leaving his lips ashe stumbled back, nearly tripping over his own feet. His face went ghost-white the moment his eyes met mine.

“Going somewhere?” I asked, my voice smooth, unbothered.

I stepped closer. He stepped back. Like a dance. Like prey that realized too late that the predator wasn’t toying with him anymore.

“I think we need to have a conversation,” I said. My hands were in my pockets. No weapons, no threats. Just words.

Tony’s throat bobbed. “I don’t know what you think is going on?—”

I cut him off with a sharp chuckle, shaking my head. “That’s funny. Because I think you know exactly what’s going on.”

The silence between us stretched, thick as smoke. He licked his lips. “Look, I don’t know what that fuck-wad told your brother, but it wasn’t true. Okay? I’m not moving in on your territory. I’m not doing anything to his girls.” He spread his hands out in front of him. “Look, I thought you were for the people now.”

One of my brows raised at him mentioning my seat in the council now. I tilted my head, watching him scramble for an angle, something—anything—that would make me back off.

“That’s cute,” I murmured. “You think politics changed who I am. That sitting in a chair and listening to budget proposals somehow makes me softer.” I took another step forward, and he took another step back, his spine kissing the brick wall behind him. No more room to run.

His breath hitched.

“I am for the people, Tony,” I continued, my voice smooth. “I’m just very particular about which ones.”

He swallowed hard. “I swear, man. Whatever you think I did?—”

I let out a low hum, pretending to consider his words, but my patience was running thin. I let the silence stretch again, thickand suffocating. Tony’s knee twitched like he was thinking of running.

Wrong move.

My hand shot out, fisting his collar, yanking him forward before slamming him back against the wall. The force knocked the air out of his lungs, his hands flying up in surrender as his phone clattered to the ground.

“I already know what you did.” My voice dropped lower, deadly quiet. “I’m just giving you a chance to tell me who you did it for.”

He sputtered, shaking his head, trying to play innocent. I tightened my grip, pressing my forearm against his throat—not hard enough to cut off air, but enough to make sure he felt it.

“I—I can’t,” he gasped, his fingers scrabbling at my arm. “If I tell you, I’m dead.”

The laugh burst from me before I could stop it. “Oh, Tony, Tony, Tony. You think you’ll actually get to live anyway?” I applied more pressure on his neck, and this time I let it knock him out. His body slumped forward, and I easily threw him over my shoulder. Don was waiting with the SUV at the other end of the alley. Benson already tapped into all of the cameras in a two-mile radius.

Almost too easy.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Dimitri

Alexei was waitingfor us when we made it to the discreet warehouse on the other side of the Bronx.

His arms were crossed, leaning against a rusted metal table, his expression unreadable. The dim overhead light flickered, casting jagged shadows across the concrete floor.

“You took your time,” Alexei mused, his voice lazy, but his sharp eyes locked onto the unconscious form slung over my shoulder. “Did he put up a fight, or were you playing with your food?”

I dropped Tony onto a chair with a satisfying thud. His head lolled forward, drool slipping from the corner of his mouth.

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