Page 130 of Mafia Don's Secret Twins

“Marisol!” I scream again.

I have no fucking clue which way to even go. The house should still have some electricity… it’s not on a grid, but a generator, and that’s housed in a building pretty far away. In theory, I should be able to see lights.

Peering into the darkness, I look around, calling Marisol’s name. I don’t see shit, and I don’t want to cross the river of mud…

I hear something.

Any concern that I have about the shifting mud underneath me is gone as I scramble, hand over foot, toward the source of the sound. “Marisol,” I rasp, hoping against everything that she’s fucking there, in front of me.

The rain makes it so hard to see. So fucking hard. But scouring the mud in front of me, my eyes catch movement.

I wade over to it.

A hand is sticking above the mud.

I fall to my knees, digging around it. I pull, hopeful that it’s her…

The ugly face of Benicio Souza fills my view.

He gasps, the rain leaving rivers down the mud on his face.

I lean back.

Marisol was right in front of him. If he’s here, then…

“Boy,” he says, coughing up mud. “Drakos.”

I look at him.

Benicio’s lungs are heaving, and I know instinctively that something’s wrong.

He’s dying.

I don’t know from what, but I can tell from the look in his eyes that he knows it too.

“Benicio…”

He shuts his eyes. “You’re the father. Of my grandchildren,” he wheezes.

Fuck me.

I’m not about to lie to a dying man. “I am.”

“You’re not a Drakos.”

“I am, actually. They just don’t know it,” I say.

His eyes flutter open at that, and I have the brief satisfaction of knowing that I managed to surprise Benicio Souza. “Interesting,” he manages.

I don’t say anything.

I’m not really interested in what Benicio has to say. But when he coughs, I turn my attention back from scouring the mud.

“She’s… by house…”

I lean in.

“I pushed her under the eave of the house,” he wheezes. “Should be okay. The mud… took me. Not her.”

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