From Mafia Doll To Montana Queen

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a physical weight, a heavy, suffocating blank

er had arranged before the final move. It was quiet here. Too quiet. The

I didn't live.

l my vision blurred. I hadn't eaten a real meal in days, my body running on adrenaline and grief. The physic

nt terse updates thr

meter. Keep your head down. You

da

fe of Olivia Hayes, the mafia p

oday. The date of the Family Gala. The anniversa

lently-a phantom ache

move. I need

. I grabbed a cardboard box and began hurling things inside. The silk sc

soul clean with ble

I fo

near the fireplace, glinting in th

niti

day. There had been no velvet box, no ribbon, no

ap while reading a dossier, as

Don't l

my bare legs. I clutched the silver against m

ke a gift. It fel

I whispered, the word

s licked at the iron grate, hungry and orange, offe

My hand trembled, betraying me.

the fire, my voice br

oppe

anishing into the red heart of the coals. I watched it darken, imagining

er disappeared,

of starvation finally claiming their toll. The e

r the mantle to steady myself

AS

pen, slamming against the wal

s. A silhouette filled the frame, blocking out the dying light. B

rc

sharp enough to cut glass. He didn't

ght you c

w, dangerous-a r

run, but my legs turned to wat

hit th

. Cold, hard arms tha

h filled my nose, overwhelming my senses. It

ing a shiver down my spine that

," he wh

ss swallowe