Page 6 of Wicked Mafia Beast
"And Onyx?"
"Yeah?"
"Whatever this is, we'll figure it out. You're not alone. Not anymore."
The kindness in her voice nearly breaks me. My eyes sting. My throat tightens. I swallow hard, forcing the tears back.
"Thanks, Sloane."
"That's what friends are for. Now move your ass. I'll be waiting."
I end the call and start hoofing it toward the main road and the Redthorne Building.
Six months of research floods back. Rafael Milano. The Red Letter Syndicate. A criminal empire that rivals my family's, but operates differently. More strategic. More selective. There arerumors of a wish-granting system that sounds like urban legend but keeps showing up in my notes.
They're my father's enemies. Have been for years, dating back to our roots in New York.
The enemy of my enemy.
I walk faster, laptop bag bouncing against my hip, the night air burning my lungs. My feet ache. My scratched arms sting. The cold seeps through my thin shirt, raising goosebumps along my skin.
I don't know what I'm walking into. I don't know if Sloane's safe haven is actually safe, or if I'm jumping from one fire into another.
But I know I'm not going back.
I know I'm not standing on that auction block.
And I know that sometimes, when you're cornered, the only move left is the one nobody expects.
My phone buzzes. A notification lights up the screen.
Eleven missed calls from my father.
I stare at his name until the letters blur. He looked me in the eyes tonight and chose silence. He watched me tremble in fear, needing him, but decided I wasn't worth the fight. He walked out of that study and left me gift-wrapped for his brother's sick auction like I meant nothing, like twenty-five years of being his daughter added up to less than whatever leverage Seamus holds over his pathetic head.
My thumb hovers over the screen. Part of me wants to listen to what he has to say. The daughter in me wants him to explain, apologize, and tell me he's coming to save me.
But I watched his face. I saw the moment he chose the Malone empire over me.
He's not coming to save me. I delete the notifications without listening to a single message.
Then I keep walking.
My phone buzzes again. I pull it from my pocket, pop the case off, and yank the SIM card free. The phone goes under my heel. Once. Twice. The screen cracks, shatters, and dies. Next, I grind the SIM into the pavement until it's nothing but plastic dust.
My laptop bag holds three burner phones, each one bought with cash in a different city. Every number that matters lives in my head so it’s no real loss
I pull out burner number one, power it on, and keep walking.
Behind me, the Malone estate disappears into the darkness.
A set of headlights come around the curve. I stick a thumb up and risk getting murdered by a random serial killer so that I can outrun the one I share blood with.
And I save myself on steps.
Two
Onyx
