Page 359 of Don’t Say Mafia

One of them stepped into the bedroom again. “Boss said she’s here,” another voice muttered.

“Well, she’s not in the other rooms,” the first man snapped.

There was a slight pause, and then footsteps moved closer.

Toward me.

My pulse roared so loudly I was certain they would hear it through the door. Then the closet door handle turned, and the soft click echoed in the silence as the door creaked open, and every muscle in my body locked. I stayed crouched behind the hanging clothes, pressing my hand tighter over my mouth, my lungs already burning from trying to keep my breathing quiet.

Slow footsteps crossed the closet floor, and then they stopped.

For a moment there was nothing. No movement. No sound. Just that awful feeling settling in my chest—the certainty that something terrible was about to happen and there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it.

Fabric tore across my face as a hand suddenly ripped through the hanging jackets, pushing them forcefully out of the way. A man’s face appeared through the gap, his eyes lighting with cruel amusement when he saw me crouched there.

“Boo.”

I screamed.

He lunged forward immediately, grabbing my arm and hauling me out of the closet so violently that my shoulder wrenched painfully. I stumbled as he dragged me upright, my heart slamming against my ribs while panic flooded through me.

“No!” I cried, twisting hard as I tried to yank free.

“Got her!” he shouted toward the hallway.

I clawed at his arm, my nails scraping uselessly against his sleeve as he dragged me out of the bedroom. My bare feet slid against the floor as I struggled, kicking and twisting, but his grip only tightened.

“Let me go!” I gasped.

“Stop fighting,” he snarled, jerking me forward hard enough to knock me off balance.

The hallway blurred past as he hauled me toward the living room. We rounded the corner, and I cried out when I saw Zachary. He was lying on the floor near the elevator, his body twisted at an unnatural angle, dark blood spreading across the polished wood beneath him in a widening pool.

So much blood.

My breath caught in my throat.

“Zachary—” The name broke apart into a sob as the man yanked me forward again, dragging me past Zachary like the sight of a body bleeding out on the floor meant absolutely nothing.

But I guess it didn’t to these people.

He hauled me straight to the elevator and shoved me inside hard enough that I stumbled and caught myself against the metal wall. Three more men crowded in behind us before I could even think about running. The doors slid shut with a quiet mechanical whisper, sealing me inside the small space with them.

Their eyes moved over me slowly.

One of them leaned back against the wall casually, his gaze dragging down my body in a way that made my stomach twist. “Well,” he said, his voice thick with amusement, “he’s got good taste.”

Another man chuckled under his breath, and the one holding my arm tightened his grip.

My heart was pounding so violently it felt like it might burst through my ribs, but the fear twisting through my chest suddenly shifted into something hotter. Anger.

Before I could stop myself, I spat straight at the man who had spoken.

The glob hit his cheek.

He froze for half a second, then his hand cracked across my face so fast and hard my head snapped to the side. Pain exploded across my cheekbone, white-hot and ringing. I cried out, tasting copper where my lip split against my teeth.

Wiping his face with the back of his hand, his eyes narrowed. “Little bitch⁠—”