Page 115 of The Underboss's Secret Twins
Mancini.
The bastard who started all of this. The one who turned my men against me, who worked in the shadows to unravel my command, who sent Sofia running, thinking she could ever escape me.
"Where?" My voice comes quiet, each word measured, but the edges are honed.
"Warehouse off Route Sixteen," the man replies. "We pulled him from a Lombardi safe house. He wasn’t expecting us."
Good.
"Any casualties?"
"None on our side." A beat. Then he clears his throat. "But he was mid-meeting with one of Lombardi’s lieutenants when we got there."
Sofia stiffens against me.
I already know what she’s thinking. Mancini was never working alone.
And if the Lombardis had eyes on him when he was taken, they know we have him now.
I close my eyes briefly, inhaling through my nose. The rage that’s been sitting just beneath my skin, simmering, waiting, now flares into something lethal.
Mancini doesn’t just know things.
He is a loose thread in a war that’s barely begun.
And if I pull the wrong way, everything unravels.
Sofia tilts her head up, searching my face. "Marco?"
29
SOFIA
The forest is alive around us, the wind threading through the trees in hushed whispers, the scent of damp earth and pine clinging to the cold night air. The distant sound of Marco’s men searching through the underbrush barely reaches me, drowned out by the pounding of my heart, the lingering tremor in my limbs.
I press closer to Marco without thinking, the warmth of his body the only thing tethering me to reality. He doesn’t loosen his hold, his grip firm as he steadies me against him, his breath warm against my hair.
I should be afraid—Iamafraid.
Not just of what almost happened, of the hands that had yanked me into the dirt, of the gun barrel that had hovered inches from my face. No, that fear has already settled deep inside me, coiling tight around my ribs like something that will never fully let go.
What terrifies me more is how much I need him right now.
I was prepared to run. To disappear. To carve out a life for myself and the baby away from this world, away from Marco andthe violence that trails him like a shadow. I thought I could do it alone.
But I see the truth now.
Without Marco, I’m vulnerable.
Without Marco, I don’t stand a chance.
He’s not just the reason I ran—he’s the only reason I’m still alive.
"Can you walk?" His voice is soft, raw in its ache for me.
My heart just jumps.
I nod, though my legs tremble, my body betraying me. He doesn’t believe me—not fully. His arm tightens around my waist, solid and unyielding, keeping me from falling.
