Page 25 of Mafia Wars

Cian hesitates. I can see it in the way his jaw tightens, the muscles there ticking like he’s holding something back. His eyes search my face, and for a second, I think he knows—that he can see right through me. But whatever war he’s fighting with himself, he doesn’t let it show. Finally, he stands, his hands slipping from mine.

“I won’t be long,” he says, his voice a little rougher now.

He leaves without another word. I hear the front door open and shut, the soft sound of the engine starting, the tires rolling down the long gravel drive. I sit there, frozen, clutching the book tighter than I need to.

I don’t move. Not at first. I tell myself to wait—just a little longer—but the longer I sit, the heavier the silence grows.Finally, I stand, the book slipping from my fingers and thudding against the floor.

Inside the garage, I find a set of keys hanging by the door. My fingers hesitate on the cold metal, the weightsomehow heavier than it should be.

The garage is dark except for the faint glow of a single overhead bulb, flickering as though warning me to stop. Three cars sit in the cavernous space, gleaming under the dim light: a sensible sedan, a rugged SUV, and then…the sleek black BMW. Its polished surface reflects the pale light, looking both beautiful and dangerous.

I’m sorry, Cian.

The apology tears through my mind as I slide into the driver’s seat. I grip the wheel, my hands trembling, slick with sweat. The car hums to life with a low growl, the engine purring like it knows what’s coming. For a second, I sit there, my breath shallow and quick, watching the garage door rise inch by inch. The rain outside is relentless, slamming against the concrete drive like a warning—turn back. But I don’t. I can’t.

As I pull out into the rain-soaked night, the wheels skid briefly on the slick pavement. My heart jumps into my throat, but I press the gas, forcing the car forward. The sound of the rain drowns out everything—the roar of the engine, the sound of my breaths, even the voice screaming at me in the back of my head to stop.

I know where Richard lives. I know what I’m walking into.

The drive is a blur of headlights, rain streaks, and wipers squealing against the glass. My knuckles turn white against the wheel. Every turn, every shadow feels like it’s watching me, closing in. I try to focus on the road, but my mind won’t stop spinning.

By the time I pull up to Richard’s sprawling house, my heart feels like it might explode. The mansion looms ahead, a darksilhouette against the stormy sky. Every window glows faintly, casting eerie light through the sheets of rain. My chest tightens as I see them—two men already waiting by the front drive. Their silhouettes are sharp, unmoving, like statues carved out of the night itself.

I slow the car, and they move. My stomach twists violently as they step forward, boots splashing through puddles. Before I’ve even stopped fully, they’re there—one on each side. Rainwater drips from their faces, but they don’t flinch. Their hands rest on their weapons. Ready.

One of them raps on the window hard enough to make me jump.

I slowly roll it down, letting rain find its way into the car. “Richard is expecting me; tell him Luna is here.”

One of the men has his hand resting on his gun while the other speaks into a walkie-talkie; I’m sure he’s letting Richard know I’m here. After a moment, the man turns back to me.

“Get out,” one growls, his voice a low rumble that cuts through the storm.

I do as they say, every movement slow, deliberate, as though I can fool them into thinking I’m not terrified. The rain soaks through my clothes instantly, cold and punishing. My knees threaten to give out, but I lift my chin and step out, pretending I’m stronger than I feel.

The taller man keeps his gaze fixed on me, his eyes like stone, unblinking. His partner’s fingers twitch near the holster of his gun. They’re waiting for something—a signal, maybe, or just one wrong move. The silence is broken by a crackle, sharp and jarring, from the walkie-talkie clipped to the taller man’s belt.

Richard’s voice bursts through the static, cold and unmistakable.

“Bring her to me.”

This is it.

One of them grips my arm, not painfully, but firmly enough to remind me that I’m not going anywhere. They guide me forward, and with every step toward the house, my pulse pounds harder. The massive doors are waiting, cracked open just enough to show a sliver of light inside. My heart screams at me to run, but my legs keep moving.

The doors close behind us with a deafening thud, and suddenly, the storm outside feels mild compared to what’s brewing inside this house.

CHAPTER TWELVE

CIAN

THE TABLE IS crowded, a rare occurrence when we’re all in the same room—Jack, my cousin, and Liam’s son; my uncles Finn and Darragh; and my father. The air is thick with tension, thekind that wraps around you and refuses to let go, the kind only men who live in shadows understand. The heavy wood table between us feels more like a battlefield than a gathering place, and every glance exchanged carries the weight of unspoken histories.

Liam stands at the head of the table, commanding the space with his presence alone. His sharp gaze sweeps over us like a general appraising his troops, his words measured and cold, each one landing with precision.

“We’ve got the locations,” Liam begins, his voice as steady as a sniper’s aim. “Our inside man confirmed their strongholds. We hit them all in one night, take them out before they even know what’s happening. Five locations.”

The words settle over the room like a shroud. My father leans back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression unreadable, but his eyes burn with the quiet ferocity of a man who’s been through too many battles to count. Finn shifts uneasily. Killing’s never sat well with him, no matter how necessary it becomes. Across from him, Darragh is his mirror opposite—relaxed, almost amused. His smirk is a weapon in itself, and his fingers drum out a casual rhythm on the table as though this were a game he’d already won. An unlit cigarette sits behind his left ear; no doubt it will be lit the minute we vacate the room.

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