Page 26 of Mafia Wars

Jack sits to my left, his posture as calm and calculated as his father’s. His eyes flick around the room, measuring everyone. He’s Liam’s son through and through—destined to lead us one day, whether he wants the mantle or not.

“What’s the order?” Finn asks, his voice smooth, almost bored, but the tension in his jaw betrays him. He knows what’s coming, and so do I.

Liam’s response is swift and clinical. He pulls a map from his jacket, spreading it out on the table with a flick of his wrist. Thecreases catch the dim overhead light, throwing shadows across the bold red marks that signal our targets.

“We split into teams,” he says, tapping the first four locations with the tip of a pen. “These are smaller, less guarded. Quick work. The fifth…” His finger lands on the final mark, pressing it down as though he could crush it beneath his touch. “Richard’s house. It’s fortified, heavily guarded. But by the time we hit it, they’ll already be scrambling from the chaos of the first four strikes. That’s when we move.”

The room falls silent. Even the rhythm of Darragh’s fingers halts.

“And the inside man?” My voice cuts through the quiet, the question sharp and deliberate. I lean forward, meeting Liam’s gaze head-on.

For a moment, the only sound is the faint hum of the overhead light. Liam’s eyes lock onto mine, colder than I’ve ever seen them, and when he speaks, it’s with a calm that sends a chill through the room.

“He wants to walk away.”

Darragh snorts, a low, derisive laugh that grates against the tension already coiled tight in my chest. “And you’ll let him?” His tone is mocking, but there’s an edge of curiosity there, a challenge veiled in his amusement.

Liam shakes his head slowly; his one word is calculated and cruel. “No.”

The word hangs in the air like a death sentence. For a heartbeat, no one speaks. No one moves. This is who Liam is—controlled, relentless, and utterly without mercy. It’s why he leads us. It’s why we follow him.

“I’ll take Richard’s house,” Liam continues, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “I’ve got ex-military coming in for the job. It’ll be clean, precise. No room for mistakes.”

The rest of us nod, but the weight of what’s coming settles over me like a second skin. The plan is set, the lines drawn. And like all games in our world, it ends in blood.

The meeting wraps up quickly after that. Assignments are handed out with precision, each of us knowing exactly what’s at stake. One by one, we leave.

Outside, the flick of a lighter pierces the silence as Darragh leans against the wall, igniting his cigarette with practiced ease. A thin wisp of smoke curls into the twilight, its scent sharp and acrid. Finn lingers beside him, his posture stiff, shoulders tense.

I don’t linger. The weight in my chest demands motion, so I shove my hands deep into my pockets and make my way to my car, each step heavy with the mental replay of the plan. Every detail races through my mind, every contingency scrutinized. It has to work. Itmustwork. We don’t have another choice.

When I arrive home, the first sign that something’s off hits me like a slap to the face. The garage door hums open, revealing the glaring absence of one of my cars. An empty space that shouldn’t be empty where my new BMW had been parked.

A sinking feeling coils in my gut, ice-cold and nauseating. Luna.

I rush inside, pulling my phone from my pocket with shaking hands. My fingers swipe the screen with practiced precision, opening the tracker app linked to my vehicles. My breath catches when the screen lights up with a location.

Richard’s house.

My stomach drops, a hollow, lurching sensation that leaves me gripping the edge of the counter for support. A storm brews in my chest, rage and fear battling for dominance.

I hit the call button for Liam. One ring. Two. It goes to voicemail.

“Dammit!” I hiss, pacing the length of the kitchen as I try again. Same result.

I race upstairs, but I know she isn’t here. The empty room confirms my suspicions.

Next, I call my father. Surely, he’ll answer. He always does.

But the line rings out, and the silence on the other end only fans the flames of my growing panic.

“For fuck’s sake!” My voice echoes off the walls, sharp and desperate.

I scroll through my contacts, landing on the last name I want to see. Jack. But at this moment, I don’t have the luxury of choice. I grit my teeth and press the call button, my jaw tightening as the phone rings.

When he picks up, his voice is as infuriatingly casual as ever.

“What?” Jack snaps, his tone clipped and already laced with impatience.

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