Page 166 of Niccolo (Mafia Kings #7)

Sofia

I tipped the white king over onto the board.

“Checkmate,” I said.

Fausto stared at the silent image of Dario on the ground, white shirt slowly turning red, his eyes and face blank in a thousand-yard stare.

“It’s… it’s over,” Fausto whispered, almost like he couldn’t believe it.

Then he burst out laughing.

“IT’S OVER!” he roared and lifted both arms in jubilation. “IT’S OVER!”

“Not completely,” I said as I reached inside my purse.

“What do you mean?” Fausto said, his face full of joy, still lost in celebration.

I backed ten feet away from him as I pulled out my pistol and aimed it at his face. “Pay me.”