Page 30 of The Mafia’s Second Shot (Burning For You Again #3)

ZOEY

T he cabin feels impossibly still, the silence pressing down on me like a weight.

I sit by the window, clutching the gun Liam left behind, my eyes fixed on the dark expanse of forest. The hours drag on, each minute stretching longer than the last. Every rustle of leaves, every creak of the cabin’s old wood makes my heart race.

They might be near.

The coded message Liam sent replays in my mind. I’ve read it so many times I can see the words burned into my memory. I try to focus on what he taught me—stay calm, stay hidden, and stay ready. But the truth is, I’ve never been good at waiting, and the uncertainty is gnawing at my sanity.

I move to the kitchen, trying to distract myself by pouring a glass of water. My hands tremble as I set the glass down, the sound too loud in the quiet space. My thoughts drift to Cooper. He promised he’d come back, but what if he’s too late? What if Rossi’s men find me first?

I shake the thought away, gripping the edge of the counter. “Focus, Zoey,” I mutter under my breath. “You’re not helpless.”

Liam’s words come back to me. If they come, make yourself small. Stay out of sight until you have no other choice. And when you do fight, aim for center mass. Always center mass.

I glance at the heavy wooden chest by the fireplace, my stomach twisting. Inside are more weapons—pistols, ammo, and a hunting knife. The thought of using them makes my chest tighten, but I know I can’t hesitate if the worst happens.

The first sign of trouble comes just after midnight. A faint sound outside—a crunch of snow underfoot. I freeze, my grip tightening on the gun as I strain to listen. The sound comes again, louder this time. Closer.

My heart pounds in my chest as I move to the window, staying low. Through the faint moonlight filtering through the trees, I see them—two figures moving stealthily toward the cabin. My blood runs cold.

They’ve found me.

I retreat to the corner of the living room, crouching behind the couch. My breathing is shallow, my mind racing through everything I’ve been taught. Stay hidden. Stay quiet.

The sound of footsteps on the porch makes my stomach churn. A soft knock follows, then another. It’s not the code Cooper uses. My fingers tighten around the gun as the door rattles under the force of a heavy kick.

The lock gives way with a sharp crack, and the door swings open. Two men step inside, their voices low and tense.

“She’s here somewhere,” one of them says, his tone rough.

“Check the back,” the other replies, his gun sweeping the room.

I force myself to stay still, my pulse hammering in my ears. As one of them moves toward the kitchen, I adjust my grip on the gun, my finger hovering over the trigger. The weight of it feels foreign in my hands, but I focus on Liam’s words. Center mass. Always center mass.

The second man moves toward the couch, his shadow stretching long across the floor. I take a deep breath, steadying my aim. When he steps around the corner, I fire.

The shot rings out, deafening in the small space. The man stumbles back, clutching his shoulder as he lets out a curse. Before I can fire again, the other man shouts, his footsteps pounding toward me.

I scramble to my feet, firing wildly as I retreat. One of the bullets grazes him, but it’s not enough to stop him. He lunges at me, knocking the gun from my hands as we crash to the floor.

Panic surges in my chest as he pins me down, his weight crushing me. I struggle against him, my hands clawing at his arms, his face, anything I can reach. His grip tightens, and for a terrifying moment, I think it’s over.

But then I remember the knife in my boot.

With a desperate burst of energy, I reach down and pull it free, plunging it into his side. He lets out a strangled cry, his grip loosening enough for me to push him off. I scramble to my feet, grabbing the gun again just as the first man recovers.

He raises his weapon, but I fire first. This time, the shot is clean, and he drops to the floor, motionless.

My chest heaves as I stand in the middle of the room, the gun shaking in my hands. The second man is still alive, groaning in pain as he clutches his side. I aim the gun at him, my finger hovering over the trigger, but I can’t bring myself to pull it again.

The sound of footsteps outside makes my heart leap into my throat. For a split second, I think more of Rossi’s men have come, but then I hear his voice.

“Zoey!” Cooper bursts through the door, his gun drawn, his eyes scanning the room.

Relief floods through me, and the gun slips from my hands as I collapse to my knees. “Cooper,” I whisper, my voice trembling.

He’s at my side in an instant, pulling me into his arms. “You’re okay,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “You’re okay.”

Tears stream down my face as I cling to him, my body shaking. “They were here,” I choke out. “I didn’t know if?—”

“I’ve got you,” he says, his grip tightening. “It’s over.”

Behind him, Angelo secures the injured man, dragging him outside to join the others. Cooper helps me to my feet, his hands steadying me as he scans my face. “Did they hurt you?”

I shake my head. “No. I... I fought back.”

His eyes widen slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. “You did good,” he says softly. “Better than good.”

I manage a weak smile, but the weight of what just happened is already pressing down on me. “I don’t want to do this again,” I whisper. “I can’t.”

“You won’t have to,” Cooper says, his voice firm. “This is the last time, Zoey. I swear to you.”

His words are a promise, but I know the fight isn’t over. Rossi is still out there, and until he’s gone, we’ll never truly be safe.

But for now, I let myself believe him. For now, I let myself breathe.