Page 74 of Twisted Fate

Alina

Something pulls me out of a deep dreamless sleep. I’m alone in the bed. Damian got a call and left a couple of hours ago. One more thing I need to consider. He is a Mafia prince. He’ll always answer the summons, no matter when it comes. Can I live with that?

Can I live with everything he is and everything he isn’t?

I close my eyes, fighting the lump in my throat.

The more honest questions is: Can I live without him? Can I see my future without him in it?

I imagine my life in the months, years, decades to come. And the only life I want is one with Damian in it.

A buzzing sensation comes from beneath my pillow. That must be what woke me. I fumble for the phone and glance at the screen.

I need to see you. URGENT.

A breath catches in my chest. Markus.

I call my brother. He doesn’t answer.

Where are you? Why aren’t you answering?

Can’t answer right now. Meet me. EMERGENCY.

I stare at the screen, my pulse pounding. Leo told me my brother’s debt is forgiven. But just because he no longer owes money to the Russos doesn’t mean Markus hasn’t gone and gotten himself into another mess. That’s his pattern. Has been for a very long time. Drink too much. Fall in with a shitty crowd. Use drugs. Gamble. Lose a lot of money. Rinse. Repeat.

I almost tell him I’m not coming, that he’s on his own. Almost.

Then I sigh.

What’s the emergency?

He’s going to kill me.

My heart stutters in my chest.

Who? Who’s going to kill you?

Markus? Answer me.

Markus?!

He doesn’t answer. I stare at the phone, willing a text to come through, worry and fear swirling through me. Who’s going to kill him? Leo said his debt is forgiven. Damian… He wouldn’t hurt my brother. Not now. Not after everything.

Whoever is after my brother, it isn’t the Russos.

I wait, minutes feeling like hours. When Markus doesn’t answer, I text.

I’ll meet you. Where?

Come alone. Don’t tell anyone.

He sends me the address.

The Emerald. Not sure why he wants to meet there, but I’m not about to waste time asking.

I pull on jeans and a t-shirt then I call a ride.

The Emerald isn’t in a good neighborhood. It isn’t surrounded by shiny new casinos, luxury stores, and tourist traps. The ugly, squat, concrete building sits between an auto supply place and a half-vacant strip mall. There’s an electrical wholesaler across the street. The Emerald’s bright red sign boasts a black silhouette of a naked girl with the words Gentlemen’s Club Open 24 Hours in stark white. This place is for those who can’t afford five-star entertainment. But it serves strong drinks and cheap food. And the girls who dance on the stage, wrapping themselves acrobatically and erotically around the poles, work damn hard for the money.

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