Page 28 of That Time I Accidentally Took Over the Mafia

Are you okay?

The static fogging the edges of my vision begins to clear. I draw in a deep breath, finding my anchor in the controlled chaos that is Luca.

“The chopper,” he says, his voice clipped. “That’s all that’s left.”

His tone sends a chill through me. This isn’t the Luca I knew back in college, the tech genius with a quick wit and a soft smile. This Luca is lethal, a weapon honed and ready to strike. And yet, he still glances at me with an unspoken promise of safety.

“Get the launcher,” Luca orders, his voice calm but unyielding.

Jax moves with practiced ease, grabbing the remaining pieces of the rocket launcher and handing them to Enzo, who assembles the weapon with methodical precision.

Sure as shit, the helicopter looms behind us, its blades slicing through the air like a mechanical beast. Men dangle from its sides, their guns trained on us.

Jax leans out of the window, unleashing a barrage of bullets at the helicopter. The responding gunfire slams into the SUV, metal meeting metal in a deafening cacophony. I flinch as sparks fly, and Jax’s broad frame shifts, shielding me instinctively.

The sunroof slides open with a hiss, and the wind howls into the cabin. My heart lodges itself in my throat as Enzo stands, the upper half of his body fully exposed. His white undershirt clings to him, already damp with sweat, and I swear the man has nerves of steel.

“Enzo!” I cry out, my voice cracking as he raises the rocket launcher. He braces himself, the weapon perched on his shoulder. The kickback from the launch jerks his body, and my heart stops, frozen in sheer terror.

A beat later, the missile finds its target.

The helicopter erupts in a spectacular explosion, fiery debris raining down like confetti. The wreckage plummets to theground in a twisted heap, another explosion marking its final demise. Heat surges around us, and the SUV bucks slightly under the force of the shockwave, but Luca doesn’t react. His focus remains razor-sharp as he steers us out of the danger zone.

There is nothing but destruction behind us for several miles. Plumes of smoke rise into the sky periodically marking the locations where the pursuers didn’t survive my men.

My men.

I slump in my seat, my hands relaxing the death grip on my trusty spat. Enzo’s gaze locks onto mine, his usual hardness absent, replaced by something raw and vulnerable. He leans forward, his forehead resting against mine. His hand cups my cheek, the warmth of his skin a stark contrast to the chill still coursing through me.

“We’ve got you, okay?” His voice is low, almost a whisper, and I don’t know if he’s saying it for me or for himself.

I nod, my own hand rising to cover his. “I know you do.”

It’s dark when we roll up to an isolated home on a remote property just outside Butte, Montana. There isn’t a damn thing out here for miles, and I can’t help but think that’s on purpose. It’s too dark to take in anything beyond the immediate vicinity, and that alone is enough to tell me the isolation is intentional.

The house is large and one story, built primarily from stone. I can make out the dark outline of a building a short walk away, and dread washes over me at what it might be used for.

This place gives me the creeps—like something straight out of a horror movie, the kind with a haunted house and a dismembered body buried in the backyard.

Luca slams his door a little harder than necessary, stomping past me as I stretch, finally standing with my feet on solid ground. The back of the SUV pops open. Jax and Luca grab a few bags each, but Luca doesn’t waste time with pleasantries and heads straight for the house.

I raise an eyebrow, watching him storm off. “What’s got his bazooka bent out of shape?” I mutter, more to myself, though I’m sure the other two hear it.

“He just wants to figure out how we were located so quickly,” Enzo responds, his voice low as he takes my book bag before I can protest. “Luca’s planted dozens of false trails by now to throw them off. Someone got lucky, that’s all.”

“Three hits came after us today, Peach,” Jax adds, his eyes narrowing, the usual playful spark gone. “We need answers, or you’re not safe. Even here.”

I glance around, the wind biting at my skin, the cold of the late night seeping through the remnants of the shot-up SUV. “And where exactly is ‘here’?” I ask, gesturing to the mountains in the distance. It’s a lot of wide-open space, with nothing but the house, a fancy-looking barn, and a fence stretching on for miles. There’s no way this place is an innocent retreat. The mafia doesn’t own places like this for fun.

“This is one of my properties,” Enzo answers, but I can tell by his eyes he’s withholding more.

My temper flares. “Okay, and?” I cross my arms over my chest, the chill in the air making my teeth chatter. “Do I need to play Twenty Questions every damn time? Stop fucking lying to me by hiding shit.”

Enzo steps closer, his towering frame blocking the dim moonlight. “This is a house for Cleaners and Fixers,” he says, his voice quieter now but edged with something I can’t quite place. “Members of my family handleassociateshere who need to be bled dry for information or who’ve fucked up and get a visit from The Undertaker.” He gestures toward Jax, then points to the barn. “That’s where it happens. Bodies disappear here, Delaney. Does that answer it for you?”

I stand there, frozen, trying to process what he’s saying. He just bluntly told me this is a mafia torture and disposal site.His family runs this operation. A dark, uncomfortable chill runs down my spine, but more than that, he just pisses me off.

Aren’t I supposed to be leading a mafia dynasty by Friday? And they still want to pretend I can’t handle the truth about everything. Well, fuck them.

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