Page 20 of Mafia King’s Dangerous Vow

Then the ceiling registers. The floor-to-ceiling windows. The scent of cedar and expensive soap lingering in the sheets beside me.

The room comes back too fast. Aleksander’s bed. My ring. My father’s silence waiting on the other end of the morning.

I grab my phone and check for messages.

Three from Maya. Two from unknown numbers. Nothing from my father.

When I call him, it goes straight to voicemail.

Again.

Voicemail.

By the fourth attempt, I’m pressing the phone so hard to my ear the edge bites into my skin.

“Answer the fucking phone,” I hiss.

Nothing.

I shove out of bed and pace from window to door, window to door, because there is nowhere else to go.

Mark is alive.

The thought still doesn’t feel real. My brain keeps rejecting it, like it’s too large to process all at once.

Eight years.

Eight years of grief built around a lie.

I dial again.

This time he answers.

“Where is he?”

Silence crackles down the line. Then my father sighs softly, like I’m being difficult on purpose.

“You’ll speak to me respectfully.” The old commanding voice, polished and poisonous.

“You stole my child.”

“Lower your voice.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s safe.”

I hate that the word works on me for even a second. I hate it more that he knows it did.

“Who has him?”

“You’ll know what you need to know when the time comes.”

“I married Aleksander,” I snarl. “You got what you wanted. Tell me where my son is.”

“You’ll see him when I decide it’s appropriate.”

My arm jerks back before I stop myself from throwing the phone.