Page 94 of That Time I Accidentally Took Over the Mafia

Luca’s attention snaps to me, and it costs him a punch to the jaw. He knows I’m out of the safe room, and I can tell by the scowl in his eyes that he hates it. But he can’t do anything else but focus on Nico.

And I’ve got five more guys to look out for.

I reposition myself quickly, keeping the counter between me and the hall. The next two are coming from the left—I can feel it in my gut. They’re smart, working in tandem, trying to corner me. I steady my breath, the gun firm in my hands, my heart pumping adrenaline into my veins.

As they step into my line of sight, I aim. The shot rings out, but it’s too high, the bullet grazing the wall just beside one of their heads. They duck back into the hall, and I curse under my breath.

I move swiftly, just like I saw Luca do—striking, then shifting my position across the kitchen. I can hear their footsteps—quick, sharp. They’re close. The tension builds in my chest as I ready myself for the next move.

Good thing I moved when I did.

One of the men bursts out from the hallway, gun raised, firing where I had just been. My pulse spikes, but I’m already moving, sliding behind the fridge for cover. I wait, breath shallow, and then aim again. This time, I don’t miss.

The bullet hits his shoulder first, sending him stumbling back. I don’t hesitate. Jax’s voice replays in my mind, reminding me to make small adjustments, not big movements.

I fire again, hitting his neck. The man crumples, and my stomach churns at the sight of the blood on the wall. The shot feels wrong, the finality of it weighing heavily on me. But I push it aside, focusing on the next targets.

I take a deep breath, trying to silence the rush of guilt. I think back to the targets in the shooting range and the promise of a reward for each one hit. It’s just like that, Delaney. The targets are just… a little different.

Four more to go.

I hear them before I see them and position my gun at what I think should be the right height to land a body shot—the next two rounding the corner together, unaware of me. They’ve just stepped into my sight when I pull the trigger, taking one down with a shot to the head.

My heart skips a beat as his head explodes on the wall behind him. There’s so much blood—I didn’t think that could be real. That kind of thing only happened in movies. But my stomachsinks as I watch the red blood and bits of brain slide down the white wall.

I don’t have time to breathe before a shot is fired at me, and I duck, narrowly missing the bullets. My cover’s blown.

I wait for a break, but when I rise up, Luca is already firing two shots, taking down both of my shooters. He must have retrieved it from the floor. He turns the gun on Nico and pulls the trigger.

The loud click snaps through the air—the gun is out of bullets. Nico charges Luca, barreling into him like a football player. He pushes Luca into the wall behind him.

I’ve got one more man to find.

The final attacker retreated into the hallway when I shot the other guy in the shoulder, so I know which way he’ll be coming from.

Luca raises his gun and brings it down hard on Nico’s skull, and I swear I hear the sickening crack of bone. Luca strikes again and again, bringing Nico to the ground.

I crouch down, placing my gun on the counter. Sliding the spatula out of my belt, I suddenly feel a rush of air behind me and hear the thud of boots on the wooden floor.

There’s a click behind me and the unmistakable cold press of a gun against the back of my head.

“Don’t fucking move,” the voice growls, low and gravelly, sending a cold shiver down my spine.

I close my eyes and release a sigh.Fuck.

I forgot about the hole in the ceiling from Luca.

My hand is near the second gun on my other thigh, and by some miracle, it’s on the side of my dominant hand. The spatula is in my left hand, and I can feel the heat of the man as he takes a step closer. He’s right behind me as Luca continues bashing Nico’s face. His hands are coated in blood, and I know it’s not his. It’s his enemy’s.

Gripping the spatula, I flex my fingers and prepare myself. I try to move all at once—small adjustments, not big movements. At the last second, I ram the metal handle of the spatula back, driving it hard into the crotch of the man holding me at gunpoint.

At the same time, I duck and pull my gun.

He fires a silenced shot, but it hits somewhere high on the wall behind me. I spin with my arm extended and level my gun at him. I pull the trigger.

The blast of my gun booms around the home like a cannon. The warmth of his blood splatters on me as his body thuds to the floor in front of me.

I turn to Luca at the same time he snaps his head to me. The terror on his face is quickly erased by relief when he sees I wasn’t the one shot.

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