a's per

ith the scents of aged wood, lemon varnish, and an almost suffocating stillness.

sleep the moment his head touched the pillow, his little hand

the edges jagged from the hammer's thud. I went to the bathroom, turned on the tap, and let the cold water wash over my swollen skin. The stinging pain was sharp and dizzying, but I didn't flinch. I found an old first-aid kit

int traces of blood were already

s were crooked and trembled on the paper from the excruciating pain. I stopped, took a deep breath, and forced my hand to steady itself. T

I calle

frontation at the door. I handed her the letter. The pulling motion shifted

e family's underground channels. Don't lea

d high-concentration extracts. Her hands trembled uncontrollably. "This isn't medi

was. The innocent girl she once served was dead, buri

I said, my flat, cold tone

in remained on the gauze. An invisible boundary had been drawn. Maria swallowed hard, clutched t

UV, flanked by two Moretti family escort cars. This convoy was supposed to ta

fingers were a little stiff, but the bleeding had stoppe

highway outside the tinted car window. We wer

Gary the Ghost"-a former strategist of a rival family whom everyone thought was dead. He held a black ledger, a book of sins with enough leverage to

will not let

d only press the button on the driver's side panel with

me in the rearview mirror. "Miss Isabella, the Godfat

way," I repeated,

ced myself not to gasp. "Isabella, please! Blackwater Creek is a graveyard. It's full of scu

my wrist. I stared intently at the leader in the rearview mirror. The air in the car instantl

ing certainty in my voice completely shattered

g town. Ahead, blocked-off shops and crumbling brick factories stood like rotten

d taut, a dull ache spreading down to my elbows. This pain was a wake-up call. I

wer in the distance. The game was set;