Page 59 of Mafia King's Forbidden Vows

My grip tightens on the phone, my jaw clenching. “You’re telling me the guy I was planning to pin Frank Paterson’s murder on has died?”

“I’m just relaying what I know,Capo,” he responds cautiously again, his voice defensive now. “I thought you’d want to hear it from me first.”

I hang up without another word, shoving the phone back into my pocket. My hand is still on the railing, but I don’t move. My thoughts are racing, crashing into one another like waves in a storm.

This isn’t just inconvenient. It’s a disaster. Donald Henshaw was the perfect scapegoat. An ex-con with a history of violence, nofamily, no ties, no alibi. I had the police ready to close the case, and now he’s gone.

Just the way Mendez disappeared like smoke as soon as we got to him.

I grit my teeth, pacing back and forth in the hallway.

A part of me wonders if someone else is pulling strings behind the scenes. Someone who doesn’t want me tying up loose ends.

I stop pacing and lean against the wall, rubbing a hand over my face. I can’t afford to let this rattle me.

Henshaw’s death automatically changes everything. Without him, I have no one to pin Frank Paterson’s murder on. The cops will start digging again, and if they dig too deep, they might find something they shouldn’t.

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to think clearly. There has to be a way out of this. And I always find it.

Ezra.

I make a mental note to call him first thing in the morning. It’s late now, and Ezra doesn’t take kindly to being disturbed after hours unless it’s life or death.

And this? This is damn close.

I head up the stairs, my footsteps heavy on the polished floor. The thought of calling Ezra to jostle his perfect life doesn’t sit well with me.

But I don’t have a choice. Not this time.

By the time I reach my room, the tension in my shoulders feels unbearable. I strip off my blood-smeared shirt and toss it into the hamper, making my way to the bathroom.

I grit my teeth, slamming my fist against the tiled wall. The sharp pain sears into my bones, but it doesn’t chase away the frustration. Hopefully, the warm water running down my body will.

I can’t let this derail everything. I’ve worked too hard and sacrificed too much to let one dead ex-con throw my plans into chaos.

I finally step out of the shower, grabbing a towel to dry off. I have to play my most daring card in this particular game.

If I take this to him, I’m sure Ezra will have answers.

And if he doesn’t, I’ll find my own solution … by all means.

Chapter twenty

Aria

I’ve never seen Elio look so dejected.

He sits across from me, his elbows braced on his knees, head hanging low. The document I handed over to him lies on the desk between us.

His fingers rake through his disheveled hair, and I can hear the tight, uneven rhythm of his breathing. He hasn’t said a word since I handed it over, and he scanned through it.

“Elio,” I begin softly, but he doesn’t look up at me. His shoulders are stiff, tension rolling off him in waves. I can truly not understand why this case bothers him so much, but I don’t remember ever seeing this ruthless mafia don in such a state. The room feels heavy with the weight of whatever’s going on in his head.

“Elio,” I try again. He cuts me off with a sharp shake of his head, finally lifting his face. His eyes are bloodshot, rimmed with dark circles under his eyes.

There’s a hollowness in his grim expression that makes my chest tighten. “What we need is a goddamn miracle,” he mutters, his voice raw.

Before I can respond, the door creaks open, and Cortez walks in. His sharp gaze sweeps over us, landing on the document for a brief second before moving back to Elio.

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