Page 73 of Mafia Prince's Secret Baby

“Please,” I choke out, tears streaming down my face. “Help me.”

And then, as quickly as the adrenaline came, it drains away, leaving me swaying and unsteady. I falter, my body giving in to the pain and fear.

“What happened, miss?” the cashier asks, her voice shaky.

I can’t respond. My legs give out completely, and I collapse to the floor, the cold tile pressing against my knees. I take a shallow, shuddering breath and glance toward the open storefront, expecting someone—anyone—to rush in.

No one comes. Not yet.

“I’m going to call for help,” the woman announces, her hand already reaching for the phone on the counter.

The wordhelpfeels so distant, like it’s being spoken through water. My mind struggles to grasp it, to hold on to something solid, but I can’t seem to focus.

Finally the dam breaks, and the tears I’ve been holding back spill freely down my cheeks. They burn hot against my cold skin, blurring my vision, and my chest shakes with silent sobs. I hear her muffled voice as she speaks into the receiver, the tones too fragmented for me to piece together.

She called 911.

Good.

I can’t stop crying. I can’t move. I’m so tired. Every part of me feels like it’s been wrung out and left to dry.

I want to rest. Just for a moment.

So I let go.

The world blurs around me, and time starts slipping away. The sound of the cashier’s voice fades into nothing, swallowed by the steady pull of unconsciousness. My body feels weightless, floating, as I drift further and further into a sea of blackness.

And then there’s nothing.

26

IGOR

“Itook your daughter on a date. I fulfilled my part of the deal. Now it’s your turn, Boris,” I warn, my voice cold, even, and carrying enough weight to make sure he knows I’m not in the mood for games. “You’d better not let me down. What can you tell me about my missing cargo?”

Boris lowers his head, smoothing the collar of his overly starched dress shirt. That single motion is all I need to see—it tells me he’s uncomfortable, which means he’s sitting on something. He taps a few buttons on the desk, and the nearby printer hums to life, spitting out a thick set of documents.

Circling the desk, Boris picks up the freshly printed stack and passes it to me. “Here’s the file,” he says, gesturing toward the papers as if that should be enough to satisfy me.

I don’t take it. Instead, I glare at him, my voice dropping into a hiss. “I don’t want toread,Boris. I want you totellme.”

He holds up a hand, his expression taking on that oily mix of feigned apology and exasperation that he wears so well. “My girls put everything they overheard or thought might be relevant in there. They listened in on conversations, followed whispers—anything that might lead to your shipment. Keep in mind…”He pauses, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “Some of the girls didn’t know what they were looking for, so there might be a few unrelated… tidbits.”

My gaze drops to the folder, its pages filled with scanned scribbled notes and messy lines. Just a glance tells me most of it is useless gossip, garbage I don’t have the time or patience to sort through.

Boris steps closer, his hand brushing against my arm as if he’s trying to smooth over the tension. “I told you I’d find what I could,” he says, his voice low and deliberate. “I never said I’d index it for you. That part is up to you, my friend.”

My jaw tightens. “That wasn’t part of the deal,” I grunt, folding my arms.

“And neither was you leaving Galina unsatisfied,” Boris snaps, his smirk widening. “You did the bare minimum, Igor. So, I did the same. Take it or leave it—I don’t care.”

The spark ignites instantly, a familiar burn surging through my chest and spreading to every inch of my body. For a moment, every muscle tenses, my cells screaming for release. I imagine ripping Boris apart piece by piece, watching him bleed out on his tacky carpet.

But I don’t move.

Because for now, I need him.

“If this isn’t valuable,” I say casually, though my tone drips with menace, “I’ll show you just howreplaceableyou are.”