Page 27 of That Time I Accidentally Took Over the Mafia

The sky? What the actual fuck is in the sky?

My gaze darts to Jax and Enzo, who seem eerily at home in this chaos, like apex predators in their natural habitat. There’s something about the adrenaline, the sheer thrill of it—it’s intoxicating in a way I’m not sure I want to admit.

Luca slams the gas, the SUV growling as it lunges forward. I glance out the window, trying to spot what Luca meant, but Jax pulls me back into the center of the vehicle.

“Stay put, Peach,” he says sharply, his frustration cutting through the chaos.

I clutch my trusty spatula, and I look behind us and see what Luca was pointing out. It’s a fucking helicopter.

Sure, why not.

Perhaps a submarine will rise out of the fucking highway next. That would just be the cherry on top of this shit-show sundae.

“Get the rocket,” Luca calls back, his voice a cold command.

Ex-squeeze me?

Jax moves quickly, opening a second case and retrieving pieces of a weapon that, when assembled, will undoubtedlylaunch us onto a government watchlist. He passes the parts to Enzo, who begins assembling them with unnerving precision.

The remaining cars surge closer, flanking us. Everything happens in a blur. Enzo pauses his assembly—the rocket launcher—as Jax fires at the car on the passenger side.

On the driver’s side, a blue Mustang surges forward, its driver firing through his own windshield at Luca. Before I can scream, the Mustang’s passenger door flies open, and a man leaps into our SUV through the busted window.

I shriek, swinging the spatula with all my might. The man recoils, clearly bewildered by my retaliation, but it gives Jax the second he needs.

Before I know what is happening the handle of a knife is sticking out of the man’s eye socket and the other one rolls back into his head. “Cocksucker.” Jax growls as he pushes the body out of the car. The SUV jolts as we roll over something heavy. I’ll just pretend it’s a pothole.Definitely not a body.

“You okay?” Jax asks, his eyes scanning me for injuries.

I intend to answer him, but Luca uses the SUV as a battering ram against the car on the passenger side and it steals my breath. I answer with an unflattering grunt while Jax holds me in place with his large arm across my body.

Luca catches the car on the front panel, and it spins wildly. The tires catch and the car is sideways. It lurches up, spinning again and again. Enzo throws another projectile and hits the car perfectly sending another fireball into the air.

If this whole mafia thing doesn’t work out, I wonder if he would join a pro baseball team because the man has an arm on him.

Luca somehow turns time into slow motion.

He wields the SUV like a fucking scalpel. Slamming the brakes and spinning the wheel, the SUV turns on a dime. As we begin our 360-degree rotation at top speeds, Luca’s arm pointsout the window. His forearm muscles ripple as he grips the gun in his hand.

Pointed for the driver of the final car, Luca lined himself up perfectly and pulls the trigger. I don’t see the bullet hit but the drivers head jerks back, and he’s dead before I can blink. The last of the cars in pursuit of us barrels across the highway and slams into the wall at full speed.

Our SUV completes its rotation, having spun in a full circle and Luca smashes the gas pedal to the ground again. All of it took place in a matter of seconds.

My breaths are shallow and ragged. My knuckles are white from grabbing onto the seat beneath me with everything I have. Fast and furious, eat your fucking heart out.

Jax hands grab each side of my face, making me look at him.

I think I’m going into shock because the edges of my vision turn to static.

“Delaney,” he says, his tone low and commanding. “You’re okay. Look at me. You’re okay.”

I nod, the movement jerky as though I’m trying to convince myself as much as him. His thumbs stroke my cheeks in a soothing rhythm, though his body remains tense, coiled like a spring ready to snap. “Luca’s not going to let anyone touch his girl.”

His girl.

The words send a shiver down my spine, both thrilling and unsettling. At breakfast yesterday, it was “our Delaney.” Now, it’s “his girl.” The possessiveness is maddening—and maybe just a little intoxicating.

I catch Luca’s gaze in the rearview mirror. His piercing blue eyes are a storm of fury and focus, his jaw tight as his hands grip the wheel with no mercy. He glances at me briefly, a silent question in his eyes.

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