Semua Bab My Runaway Mafia Groom Wants Me Back: Bab 41 - Bab 50

(Asher)The FBI tactical room boasts a heady mix of stale caffeine and people pretending they’ve got things under control.Agent Morrison spreads surveillance photos across the metal table like he's dealing cards in a game where the stakes are human lives.His methodical approach is making my teeth ache."The warehouse district has seventeen possible locations," he drones, pointing to red circles on the map."We need to establish perimeters, coordinate with local law enforcement, and-""While you're establishing perimeters, they're torturing Elias," I interrupt.Morrison's jaw tightens."Mr. Giordano, I understand your concern, but rushing in without proper intelligence-""Will get everyone killed," I finish."I know how these things go."The reminder hangs in the air like smoke. Everyone in this room knows what I am. The youngest don in New York history, the man who killed his own father for power.They're only working with me because Elias vouched for me before he disappeared and th

(Asher)The warehouse groans like a dying beast.Steel beams twist and snap with sounds like gunshots, and concrete dust fills the air so thick I can barely breathe.We need to get much farther away from the crumbling building.Elias is doing his best, but he collapses just as we clear the loading dock.His legs give out completely, and he hits the asphalt hard.Blood seeps through his shirt from wounds I can't see, and his breathing is shallow and rapid."I can't..." he gasps, trying to push himself up. "My ribs...""You don't have to."I scoop him up in a fireman's carry, ignoring the way his weight sends lightning through my injured shoulder."Just stay conscious."Behind us, another explosion rocks the building.Chunks of concrete rain down around us, and I can feel the heat from the flames on my back."Asher!" Emmeline's voice cuts through the noise.She's a few feet ahead of me."Keep going!" I call back. "Don't wait for us!"But she does wait, of course. She always does.Even i

(Emmeline) I'm standing outside the federal courthouse at seven in the morning, clutching Jackson's hand so tightly he keeps trying to wiggle free."Mommy, you're squishing my fingers," Jackson complains, but he doesn't really try to pull away. "Sorry, baby." I loosen my grip but don't let go. "Are you excited to meet Uncle Sebastian?""Will he look like you?" Jackson asks, bouncing slightly on his toes. "Miss Ally says brothers and sisters sometimes look the same.""A little bit. We both have red hair."I smooth down Jackson's cowlick with my free hand. "But his is darker than mine."Asher appears beside us, his hand finding mine immediately."The paperwork's done," he says quietly. "Morrison says he'll be out any minute."I nod, not trusting my voice.Five years. Sebastian has been in prison for five years for a crime he didn't commit, and I couldn't do anything to help him.The courthouse doors open, and Agent Morrison steps out first. Behind him is a figure I almost don't recogni

(Emmeline) The silence in the car is deafening as we drive away from my childhood home."Mommy, did I do something wrong? Everyone got very quiet after I said about the handwriting."I twist around to face Jackson, forcing a smile that feels like it might crack my face."No, sweetheart. You did exactly right. You're very observant.""Like a detective," he says proudly."But you all look scared. Are we in trouble again?"Asher's hands tighten on the steering wheel."Not trouble, buddy. We just need to be very careful about who we trust.""I thought Agent Morrison was one of the good guys," Jackson says, confusion clear in his voice.When we reach the town house, Bruce is waiting on the porch, his expression grim."What happened?" he asks as we settle in the living room."We found out that Agent Morrison isn't who we thought he was," Asher says.Jackson climbs onto the couch next to me, still looking confused. “How do we know?”I pull him close, breathing in his familiar scent."These

EmmelineThe park near the courthouse buzzes with afternoon activity.Normal people living normal lives, oblivious to the trap we're about to spring.I sit on a bench with a clear view of the meeting spot.Bruce’s voice crackles softly in my earpiece from his position in the trees above."Morrison just pulled up," Bruce reports. "Black sedan, government plates. He's early."Asher's voice comes through calm and steady. "Don’t worry, I’ve got this."My fiancé walks across the park with practiced casualness, a manila envelope tucked under his arm.Inside are photocopies of Dad's real evidence, but altered just enough to make Morrison think we've found something even more damaging.Morrison approaches the bench where Asher waits, his FBI badge catching the afternoon sunlight.Even now, knowing what I know, it's hard to reconcile this ordinary-looking man with the monster who ruined my family."Asher." Morrison's voice is full of false warmth. "Thank you for meeting me. I didn’t want to d