Page 5 of The Mafia Assassin's Redemption
The kid won’t eat the ramen noodles I found in the pantry, and I want to yell at her. She just sits on the bed, sneakers still on, and she won’t let me touch the burn on her arm.
We were lucky we got to the car before they saw us, the explosion at the farmhouse a godsend.
But now, I need word that the Raos think the kid’s dead, too.
I shove a hand through my hair and pick up the bottle of whiskey and guzzle the amber liquid, enough to take the edge off the dread gnawing at me.
In all honesty, I’m not worried about the kid. I put the heel of my hand to my eye.
But where the fuck is Shiv?
Finally, I call Donal. “It’s me.”
“You save them?” he asks, sounding flat, like he’s in shock.
I dismiss the question, already knowing the answer.
“She didn’t make it, Torin.” He talks some more, but I tune him out.
Dead. That’s what her cousinjust said. She’s dead.
I wasted precious time. For nothing. Something cold and crushing invades my heart, and the lump that formed in my throat from the news turns hard and grows spikes because it hurts to swallow.
I could have saved the father.
Maybe the mother.
Now they’re all dead.
And I have a fucking kid to get rid of.
I screwed this up. I didn’t complete the mission. I didn’t save the fucking family.
For three years, with Da in jail, I’ve been doing this, running my own side hustle. I’m cold, heartless, ruthless. I do whatever to get the job done.
This time I faltered and tried to save Siobhan instead. And I ended up losing all their lives except this scrap of a kid.
Grief starts to crush, my throat tight like it’s been lassoed with a noose.
“Go to fucking sleep,” I snap at Harry. “Eat, don’t eat. I’ll take care of you in the morning.”
I take the whiskey bottle to the rat-chewed sofa and stretch out, the stench of blood and smoke in my nose. Ignoring it, I pull out a photo of Shiv from my wallet.
She was fucking beautiful. I’d have married her. I know that.
I lie there, drifting to sleep, listening to the creaks and sighs of the building above. Waiting for those asshole thugs to blaze in and shoot the fucking place up, but nothing happens.
I’m almost asleep when a click wakes me, and the first thing I see is the shaking gun in my face. And beyond that, the trembling kid.
The gun,my gun, is pointed right at my heart.
I could snatch it from her. I could tell her to put it the fuck down.
She looks at me like I’m a monster, the devil. Is she wrong?
“Well,” I snarl, “what are you waiting for? Do it.”
Harry jerks back, eyes wide. The gun veers wildly as she pulls the trigger and stumbles at the recoil. A bullet rips into my upper arm.
