Page 71 of Masked Mafia's Runaway Bride

“I killed her and made it look like she died from the sickness,” he said simply as if he were confessing to something as mundane as breaking a vase. “Not because I wanted to, but because I had to. She made choices. And those choices…” He gestured vaguely as if the answer were obvious. “They left me no other option.”

I stared at him, a mix of disgust and horror boiling in my chest. “You’re a monster.”

“And yet, here you are,” he shot back, his smirk returning. “At my mercy.”

My mind raced, trying to find a way out, a way to keep him talking. But before I could say anything, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen before answering.

“Sergio,” he greeted, his voice warm and welcoming, a stark contrast to the menace he’d just been spewing. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He put the call on speaker, his eyes fixed on me as Sergio’s voice filled the room.

“I heard you caught The Raven,” Sergio said, his tone casual but laced with something sharp.

Don Carlos chuckled. “You heard correctly. She’s right here.”

My breath hitched as I stared at the phone, confusion and hope swirling inside me. Sergio wouldn’t betray me. He couldn’t.

“It’s about time,” Sergio continued. His words were like a knife to my chest. “Mirella thought she was smart, but we outsmarted her.”

I blinked, the room spinning for a moment. What was he saying? What was happening?

My throat tightened, a lump forming that I couldn’t swallow. Sergio’s voice, the one that had always felt like safety, was now something foreign, cold.

I had thought I was smart. But now, I wasn’t sure what to think at all.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

SERGIO

Ryan paced the length of my office, phone clutched tightly in his hand. His usual calm was replaced with agitation, which meant bad news. I leaned back in my chair, trying to keep my focus sharp despite the restless energy clawing at my chest.

“You’re driving me crazy, Ryan. Either sit down or tell me what’s going on.”

Ryan stopped, turned toward me, and exhaled sharply. “The contact you asked me to call? He found something. It’s about Mirella’s father.”

I sat up straight, the tension in my shoulders snapping into sharp focus. “Where?”

“He’s been held in one of Don Carlos’s warehouses. For years, Sergio.” Ryan’s voice was tight and clipped as if he were holding back anger.

The news hit me harder than I’d expected. Years. Mirella had been searching, hoping, and Don Carlos—no, that bastard—had him all along. My fingers curled into fists, the blood roaring in my ears.

“Get me everything you know about that warehouse.” My voice was low and calm, but I could feel the storm brewing inside me.

Ryan hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. “That’s not all. My source says something else.”

I stared at him. “Spit it out.”

Ryan’s jaw tightened. “Don Carlos might know Mirella is The Raven.”

The words were a punch to the gut. My mind blanked for a second before anger snapped me back into focus. I stood up, the chair scraping loudly against the hardwood floor.

“This is bad, so bad.”

Ryan shook his head. “We don’t know yet, but Don Carlos is coordinating an attack on her men. He’s moving quickly, which means—”

“Which means Mirella’s in trouble,” I finished for him.

I ran a hand through my hair, pacing now because sitting was no longer an option. This wasn’t a coincidence. Don Carlos was too calculated for that. Mirella’s been playing a dangerous game for a long time, but if he truly knew who she was, this wasn’t just about revenge—it was about control.

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