Page 61 of Mistletoe in the Mafia

The both of us become sober pretty quickly, though, with the mission on our minds. If Torres really is down here, hiding in an underground lair like a rat, then this ends tonight. Through my earpiece, I can hear Madelyn’s voice. Calm, professional, but with the usual warmth beneath it. She’s back at the office, performing surveillance through the cameras.

“The entrance should be at the east corner, hidden behind a stack of pallets,” Madelyn informs us. “Be careful, guys. There’s limited visibility down there.”

“You got it, Mads.”

I scowl as I look at the owner of the voice. Kenneth fucking Pratt, because of course Joshua decided he would be a part of the team. I can’t get rid of the asshole no matter how hard I try. He smirks when he notices my eyes on him and I fight the immature urge to flip him off.

I can’t stand the guy.

Joshua leads the team forward and we slip into the shadows, making our way to the hidden door. One of the agents pulls the pallets aside, revealing a steel door with an electronic keypad. It doesn’t seem all that complicated. I could probably hack into it in less than a minute. But since I’m here, we’ve got to depend on our other intelligence analyst.

“Flowers,” I call in a low tone.

“Already on it. I’m in the system now,” Madelyn says through the comms, her tone bright despite the tension. “Just give me a sec… And there! It’s unlocked.”

The door creaks open, revealing a dark stairwell leading downward. The smell of damp concrete and stale air hits me immediately. The team spreads out, sweeping the area. Joshuaand I push forward, eventually reaching a place that looks like an office at the end of the hall.

Through glass panels, I can see the glow of monitors and the outline of a man hunched over, his movements in a rush as he works to erase something on the computers.

“Torres,” Joshua mutters, signaling to the others to hold their positions.

He’s alone. Joshua and I share a nod before we move quietly toward the door. On my count, we burst in, weapons drawn. Torres jumps to his feet, panic flashing in his eyes as he looks between us.

He’s shorter than I expected, with a wiry frame and sharp, angular features. His face is gaunt, as if he hasn’t slept in days, and his skin has the sallow hue of someone who’s spent too much time underground. His greasy dark hair clings to his forehead, and a faint scar runs along his jawline, barely visible under the dim light. The veins in his neck pulse as he glares at us, eyes darting around like a cornered animal.

“Hands where I can see them,” Joshua barks.

But Torres isn’t looking at him. His eyes lock onto me, narrowing as recognition dawns.

“Shadow,” he spits, the word venomous and sharp.

My grip on the weapon tightens, but my face stays blank.

“Am I supposed to know what that means?” I ask coldly, although my mind is starting to race.

“You’re the shadow,” Torres repeats, his tone more sure.

Before I can process further, my gaze shifts to the room itself. The tech is… impressive. State-of-the-art equipment, the kind of setup most hackers would kill for. Multiple screens display scrolling data, encryption patterns, and what looks like live surveillance feeds.

But it’s all wrong. Torres doesn’t have the skills to run this.

Joshua moves, knocking Torres out with a swift blow before he can say another word. But I’m not watching. My focus is on the equipment and what it means. Someone else is involved.

The hacker.

I knew there was someone helping Torres evade us. The same hacker who doctored that footage in the first place. I knew they had to be talented, but this is next level. I step closer to one of the screens, scanning the displayed data. Whoever this is, they’re dangerous. Organized. And very, very good.

Joshua pulls me out of my thoughts.

“Dominic, you good?”

I force my attention back to the present, nodding stiffly.

“How the hell does he know who you are?” Joshua grits out.

Through the comms, Madelyn’s voice crackles.

“Did you get him? Is Torres in custody?” she asks.

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