Too Late To Beg, Mr. Mafia Don

ella

ng to witness. For a fraction of a second, the sterile hospital room

r swung open. Two Moretti Soldiers stepped inside, their expressions

momentarily clouded his icy blue eyes vanished, replaced by a ren

voice was a deadly rasp. "You think you can

g fingers, she reached for her phone on the bedside table and he

to see the screen to know what it said. T

ed, turning the screen

ear or

y dropping to the timestamp. 2:00 PM. A faint, mock

ine walls. I slowly turned my head to look at the hulking figure st

amien's head snapped toward his second-in-comm

d just sprung, "at exactly two o'clock, you were busy carrying my h

l. Rocco's jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked violently in his cheek. He looked at

round out thro

n of having his own Underboss provide my airt

r to him, my voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "Use your vast resour

ion to the Soldier who had just delivered the repo

n before answering. "An industrial acces

ing. "A surveillance blind spot. A road used exclusively for running contraband and dumpin

bed, her voice pitching higher in panic. She

PS?" I mocked, not even looking at

n they could see the glaring holes in her story. But Damien, blinded by his twisted need t

his voice vibrating with a

shirt, brushing away an invisible speck of

boring, Damien," I said, my tone dripping with ar

wo Soldiers, I stopped. I didn't look at Damien. I looked directl

king or a controlled maneuver to initiate a drift. And pull the telemetry data from the car's bla

he heavy door clicking shut behind me, leaving the Moretti Don al