Page 4 of The Mafia’s Second Shot (Burning For You Again #3)

COOPER

T he elevator groans as it climbs the old building, the metal cage rattling like it might give out at any moment.

It’s been years since I’ve set foot in Zoey’s world, and everything about it feels foreign.

Too quiet. Too exposed. It’s the kind of place that makes a man like me twitchy, my instincts screaming to look over my shoulder every few seconds.

But I’ve got bigger concerns right now than the shoddy state of her apartment building.

The envelope in her apartment changes everything.

I don’t know who left it, but I have a good idea. Rosetti’s men are too brazen to make direct threats without showing their hand. This? This was different—measured, calculated. Whoever sent that note wanted to rattle her. And it worked.

When I reach her floor, I take a second to breathe, grounding myself.

Zoey’s no fool. She’s going to see me showing up like this for what it is: a power move.

She’ll hate it, and she’ll hate me for it.

But I’d rather deal with her anger than the alternative.

I won’t let her face this alone, not when she doesn’t know what she’s up against.

I knock twice. Firm, but not loud enough to make her neighbors curious. There’s a pause, the kind that stretches just long enough to tell me she’s considering not answering. Then, the lock clicks, and the door swings open.

Zoey stands there in the dim light, her expression a mix of anger and something softer—fear, maybe. She’s in sweatpants and a tank top, her hair piled messily on top of her head. She looks different from the woman I saw in the alley last night, but the effect is the same: she takes my breath away.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

I lift the envelope in my hand, the one I took from her coffee table after my informant tipped me off. “We need to talk.”

Her eyes dart to the envelope, then back to me. “How the hell did you get that?”

“I have my ways,” I reply evenly. “Can I come in?”

“No,” she snaps, stepping forward to block the doorway. “We’re not doing this, Cooper. You don’t get to show up and?—”

“You’re in danger, Zoey.” My voice is calm, but the weight of my words stops her mid-sentence. I lower my tone, leaning slightly closer. “Let me in, and I’ll explain everything.”

She glares at me for a moment, her jaw tightening. I can see the wheels turning in her head, her pride warring with the fear she doesn’t want me to see. Finally, she exhales sharply and steps aside.

“Fine,” she says, her voice cold. “But make it quick.”

Her apartment is small but cozy, decorated in a way that feels so her it twists something deep in my chest. The walls are covered in framed prints and paintings, and the air smells faintly of lavender.

It’s a stark contrast to the world I live in—sterile, sharp-edged, designed for survival, not comfort.

“Start talking,” she says, crossing the room and standing by the window, arms still folded. Her stance is defensive, her eyes sharp.

I hold up the envelope. “This was left in your apartment. Do you know who sent it?”

She scoffs. “Of course not. But I assume you do, since you’re here.”

I ignore the jab. “The message was clear. Whoever sent this thinks you know something about me. Something they want.”

Zoey frowns, her brows knitting together. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t know anything about you, Cooper. Not anymore.”

Her words sting, but I don’t let it show. “It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not. Rosetti’s people believe you’re a loose end. They think they can use you to get to me.”

She shakes her head, her laugh bitter. “Of course. Of course, this is about you . Because it’s always about you, isn’t it? Even now.”

“Zoey—”

“No,” she cuts me off, her voice rising. “You don’t get to drag me into this, Cooper. I don’t want any part of your world, your secrets, or whatever mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Her anger is like a wall, hard and impenetrable, but I can see the cracks beneath it. The fear she’s trying so hard to hide. I take a step closer, lowering my voice.

“You think I want this?” I ask, my tone sharper than I intended. “You think I’d put you in danger if I had a choice?”

Her eyes flash. “You did have a choice. Five years ago, you chose this life over me. You made your bed, Cooper. Now lie in it and leave me out of it.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, but I don’t back down. “You don’t understand what’s at stake here. These people—they don’t play by the rules. If they think you’re useful, they’ll come after you. And they won’t stop.”

“I don’t need your protection,” she snaps. “I can handle myself.”

“Really?” I counter, stepping closer. “Because last night, you almost didn’t.”

Her expression falters for a split second before the anger returns, fiercer than before. “You don’t get to do this, Cooper. You don’t get to swoop in and play the hero after everything you’ve done.”

I run a hand through my hair, frustration bubbling to the surface. “I’m not trying to be a hero, Zoey. I’m trying to keep you alive.”

Silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating. She turns away, her shoulders tense, and for a moment, I think she’s going to kick me out. But then she speaks, her voice quieter this time.

“Why now?” she asks without looking at me. “Why, after all this time?”

“Because they’re moving,” I say simply. “And they think you’re the key to getting to me.”

She finally turns to face me, her eyes searching mine for something I don’t know if she’ll find. Trust? Forgiveness? I don’t deserve either, but I can’t let that stop me.

“I don’t believe you,” she says, but her voice lacks conviction. “Why would they think I know anything about you?”

“Because of the deal I made,” I admit, the words heavy in the air. “The one that put Rosetti in the ground and left a lot of people looking for revenge. They think you were involved. That you might know things they can use.”

Her eyes widen slightly, and for the first time, I see a flicker of doubt. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by anger and disbelief.

“You should’ve stayed out of my life, Cooper,” she says, her voice low and steady. “I don’t want your help, and I don’t need your lies.”

I take a step back, letting her words sink in. She’s made up her mind, at least for now, and there’s no point in pushing her further. But I’m not giving up—not when her life is on the line.

“You have until tomorrow to decide,” I say, my voice firm. “If you want my protection, I’ll be there. If not... I can’t promise you’ll be safe.”

Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t respond. I turn and walk to the door, my hand lingering on the knob for a moment before I glance back at her.

“Be careful, Zoey,” I say softly. “Time’s running out.”

And with that, I leave, the sound of the door clicking shut behind me feeling far too final.