Page 61 of Mafia Princess

“Put the divider back up,” Papa orders and proceeds to climb out of the car with Mason on his heels.

My skin itches to get out and see what the fuck is going on, but the fucking driver locks the doors and windows. Shit. I scramble to the other side of the seat to get a better angle.

“Let me out,” I shout at the driver, who fucking ignores me.

I hear muffled voices and scuffling, followed by a torrent of gunfire and my heart leaps into my throat. I tug on the door handle, trying to break free.

“Mason!” I scream and kick at the shatterproof glass. “Fucking let me out,” I smash my fist against the divider, making my knuckles scream from the impact.

Silence fills the void and I sit in the middle of the limousine, helpless, feeling like I could be out there saving my family. More muffled voices and the whole car rocks as someone gets thrown against it. I try the doors again but they don’t budge.

“Fuck!” I growl in frustration.

Someone’s head gets slammed against the window to my left, their face turning white from the force. I hear a groan escape their lips and the low thuds as they get repeatedly punched.

“Mason, let me out.” I slap at the window, when all of a sudden the face disappears, and the door is opening.

“What the fuck?” I shout as I get hauled out of the car by Papa.

“Do you know this woman?” Papa grabs her hair and angles her face at me.

“Emma? Fuck, let her go” I try to pry Mason’s grip from her arms.

I hear a distinct low growl and I instantly recognize Storm’s defensive warning. I turn in what seems like slow motion to see my puppies on a lead being held by Rico.

“Oh my god.” I scramble toward them, my heels getting ruined by the dirt road, and my dress getting stained from dragging along the ground. “Are you okay? Oh my god.” I bend down and hug them as they jump all over me, ruining my dress. But I don’t give a fuck at this point. I just want to know what the fuck is going on.

“They’re okay, Maya.” Rico touches my shoulder and pulls me upright.

“What the fuck is going on?” I turn to see that Mason has Emma’s arms pulled tight behind her back. I scan the area and our cavalcade of stretch limousines all line up in a neat row. I spot two black Escalades out the front of our cars, forming a barrier, with dead bodies scattered near their tires.

“Care to elaborate, you filthy bitch.” Mason jerks Emma’s arms and kicks her in the back of the legs.

“Fuck,” Emma cries out in pain and her head slumps forward, a trail of blood oozing from her nose and down over her lips and chin.

“Emma?” I stride toward her. “What have you done?”

She gazes up at me, an evil smirk plastered on her bloodied face. “I failed, so who fucking cares,” she laughs manically.

I glance at Mason, hoping he has answers. He gives her a rough shake, making her look like a bobblehead. “Spit it out,” he growls.

“I was meant to marry him, not you,” she screeches and lunges for me but is jerked back by Mason.

“What?” I look at Papa, he’s shaking his head in frustration.

“You fucking spoilt little bitch, you get everything. I was supposed to fucking marry him. I was supposed to be spared. Fuck you,” she spits at me, narrowly missing my dress.

“I’m so fucking confused.” I look at her, almost sympathetically. “Why the fuck do you have my dogs?” I want to slap her myself for taking my babies.

“I was going to slaughter them and deliver their pieces to you.” She licks her lips and laughs like a fucking crazy clown at a horror circus. “I sent you the notes and the Irish mob to roughen you up. I painted your fucking dorm in blood-red because goody two shoes, Summer, decided to take your fucking mutts to her big bad boyfriend’s house. Fucking miss prissy bitch thwarted my plans.”

I punch her as hard as I can and watch her head snap to the side, her body held firm in my brother’s grip. “Fuck with my dogs, family, or friends and you’re null and void.” I nod to Tristan.

Mason throws Emma to the ground, she lands face-first into the gravel, ripping the skin off her cheek and nose. She groans and manages to roll onto her back.

“Fuck you, you’ll get what’s coming to you. They don’t fucking care who puts a ring on your finger anymore. Fucking kill me!” She screams at us like she’s possessed by a poltergeist.

The sound of a gunshot echoes in the clearing, I look down at her, and at the perfectly placed bullet hole in the center of her forehead.

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