Page 93 of That Time I Accidentally Took Over the Mafia

“It’s about time you came out from behind your screens, Nic,” Luca calls out, tossing his empty gun to the ground. His hands move casually into his pockets, but I know he’s putting on the brass knuckles.

“You may as well have blasted a homing beacon, Luca. After six years of chasing, it took no effort at all to track you down today.” Nico snorts a laugh, removing his mask. A long scar runs the length of his face, from the center of his forehead down his left cheek to his jaw.

Movement on two of the monitors pulls my attention. A masked attacker is sneaking up behind Luca. I need to do something. But Nico is facing the safe room door. If I open it, he’ll see me in an instant.

“Odd, it’s almost like I meant to draw a rat out of a sewer,” Luca spits on the floor. “And here you are.”

His gaze darkens as he takes his hands out of his pockets. Nico spots the brass knuckles.

“Can’t fight me like a man?” Nico taunts.

“I’m not the one who overcompensated by bringing every armed guard I could throw a coin at,” Luca replies, circling him.

I can’t tell if he’s drawing Nico somewhere specific or if they’re about to turn the house into a UFC octagon. Either way,Luca and Nico have always been near equals in everything they do. I steel myself, knowing Luca is about to take a few hits.

“You come tomyhome formygirl. You should have stayed behind your screens, because you’re not leaving here alive,” Luca speaks calmly, as if they’re comparing hacking techniques. “You’ll swallow every one of your teeth and drown in your own blood right here.”

Luca widens his stance, raising his fists. With one hand, he motions twice, telling Nico to bring it on. “So, let’s go.”

Nico moves as fast as Luca, flicking a blade across the room. I gasp, my hands flying to my mouth as the two lions collide.

I look at each of the screens. Enzo and Jax are still knee-deep in attackers, but they’re holding their ground. Movement on another screen catches my eye. There are still assailants inside the house.

I take note of their positions—six in total—and with a deep breath, I open the drawer next to me.

Screwing a silencer onto the tip of my handgun, I check it once more, adding two extra clips to my pockets. My hands are shaking, and I struggle to steady them.

If these guys go after Luca, it’ll be Nico and all of them against him. I have to help. I can’t leave him out there alone, sitting in here and watching him get killed when I can do something about it.

All right, Delaney. You can do this. You’re a stone-cold killer.

I take a deep breath and release it.You’re a bad bitch with a spatula.

I grip the door handle, inhaling deeply one last time before opening it.

Imay have a heart attack as I move quietly through the safe room’s door, my heart pounding in my chest. The spatula tucked into my belt feels more like an old friend than a weapon, but right now, it’s the only thing keeping me sane. I’ve got my silenced gun in hand, and I’m determined to do this. The sound of fists landing on flesh, followed by the crash of Luca and Nico slamming into walls, barely registers as I creep into the kitchen, trying not to draw attention.

I contemplate just shooting Nico, but I can’t risk hitting Luca. I’m not a good enough shot, and they’re all over each other. Trying hard to push their brawl out of my mind, I ready myself for the next few minutes. I can do this.

“If it’s you or them… always make it them.”

All right, get ready, motherfuckers. Time to kill some bad guys.

My focus sharpens as I hear movement from the hallway beyond. The six gunmen are making their way to the center of the home where the fight is happening. One of them is creeping toward the large room behind Luca, who is too busy with Nico.

I crouch low behind the kitchen counter, silently moving into position. The adrenaline thrums in my veins, but I force myself to focus. My hands are steady, though my legs are shaking. I adjust my grip on the gun and brace my stance, keeping my eyes locked on the empty space beyond the living room.

The seconds drag by as I wait, heart hammering. My breath is shallow, but I know better than to let it shake my aim.

Then I see the shadow—just a flicker, but enough. My target moves, and I track him as he crosses the space. He’s almost in place.

I hold my breath, steadying my gun. The world around me feels like it’s slowing down, every second stretched as I wait for the perfect shot. His shadow inches closer, my finger hovering over the trigger.

Then—I pull the trigger.

The shot is silent. The only sound is the crack of glass as I shatter the window behind him, sending shards flying into the air. The first gunman drops, his body falling back as I hit my mark.

I exhale, feeling the rush of success flood through me. It’s not the loud, triumphant feeling I imagined. Instead, it’s the steady calm that comes from knowing I did what I had to do.

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