Page 15 of Mafia King's Forbidden Obsession

Confusion freezes my brain for a split second. “What shipment?”

I flinch when he mutters something, then snaps. He barks out an order to someone outside the cell, “Porta il chiodo e il Martello(Bring the nail and the hammer)!”

It’s apparent from his tone that whatever he just said was not good. A moment later, another man enters the cell, carrying a box of tools. My breath catches in my throat when he strides into my cell and opens the box.

He picks out two long, steely nails and the large hammer inside.

Shit.

My heart tears out of my chest. “Wait, no, please!” I beg, my voice breaking as the man grabs my hands and forces them onto the rough wooden table in the corner of the cell. Tears stream down my face, my heart pounding in my ears.

“Please, Ezra, I don’t know anything! I swear!” Ezra does nothing but stand with hands behind his back. His eyes peer into mine, cold and unreadable. The man places the tip of a nail against my palm. I feel the sharp edge bite into my skin. My breath comes in short, panicked gasps as he raises the hammer to a height sure to leave me handicapped.

“I don’t appreciate you carelessly running your mouth,” Ezra announces monotonously before glancing at the man. He doesn't say anything, but it seems the man already knows what to do.

“Wait!” I scream, just as I see the hammer coming at the back of my palm. When it pauses an inch close to my skin, I almost shit myself.

Damn.

My mind scrambles for anything that might save me. “I know the man!” I should tell him whatever the hell he wants to hear. He stops and stares at me with a raised brow, urging me to go on.

“Great guy, honestly.” A scared laugh leaves my quivering lips. “We, uh… about the shipment. Funny story. I’m not supposed to tell you this, but the oils…”

“Oils?” he repeats as if I’ve gone completely nuts. Heck, even I feel like I’ve gone nuts.

“Yes, t— the oils on the… umm.. shipment…” I stutter, grasping at anything to postpone this inhumane action. But I can see the anger flaring up in Ezra’s eyes again. My heart is pumping so fast I’m afraid I’m going to have a heart attack.

“You think this is about oils?” he reiterates with a finger pointed toward me.

God. I don't fucking know what the hell all this is about.

But I cannot tell him that. He wants something I don’t know.

There's silence for a while until he clenches his jaw and nods at the man in the cell. He raises the hammer above his head again.

“Please. If only you’d believe that I don't know… please, Ezra, I beg you.” My pleas are followed by ripples of tremors across my body. I try to yank myself off.

As I start to scream, another man rushes into the cell. I watch through teary eyes as he whispers something into Ezra’s ears. The expression on his face doesn’t give anything away. But he nods at the man, and he drops the hammer and nail on the table. I ignore the slight heave of Ezra’s chest when he speaks.

“Lock her up,” he says to the man while holding eye contact with me. “I’ll confirm it myself that she’s innocent.”

His guard lets me go and takes the torture devices with him, returning them to the toolbox. Then he goes ahead to carry out Ezra’s instruction.

And then I am alone again. Tears pour uncontrollably from my eyes. My knees become weak, and I collapse on the floor.

What have I gotten myself into?

Chapter four

Ezra

Russo is the mole. Not Raven.

The slow music of the club hits me as I stare at the small board laid on my office desk. Their names are boldly written on it. Out of the names, two remain unsolved. It has proven difficult to piece Russo and anything together, whether his appearance at my club was for a different cause or is related to the mole.

It didn't make any sense. If his agenda was to intercept my shipment, why not do it behind shadows? Why risk your freedom for nothing?

My men are still on his case. They’re searching for him, but it seems like he’s disappeared from the face of the earth. Like he never existed. The cops don't know his whereabouts either. No one does.