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Sebastian glances at me, chewing on his lower lip as he considers the question. "I've just always known him," he answers vaguely. I nod, understanding that there's probably more to it than he's willing to share.
"And how do you know him?" Sebastian asks, turning the tables.
"Uh, well, my sister is married to Primo," I admit, knowing that our connection to the Maldonado family isn't exactly something to be proud of.
Recognition flickers in Sebastian's eyes, and he nods slowly. "Ah, I see."
"Anyway," I say, hoping to change the subject. "I'm sure your son's mom will be relieved when you get home."
His face darkens, and he shakes his head. "There's no mom. It's just me and him. He's with the babysitter right now."
"Shit, I'm sorry," I apologize quickly, feeling foolish for making assumptions. "I didn't mean to?—"
"It's fine," he interrupts, waving off my apology. "We manage."
The rest of the drive passes in uncomfortable silence until we finally pull up in front of a row house in South Boston. Sebastian unbuckles his seatbelt and gives me a weary smile. "Thanks for the ride."
"Anytime," I reply, trying to sound casual.
As he opens the door to step out, a little boy bursts through the front door of the house and races toward us. The sight of his son seems to reenergize Sebastian, the exhaustion vanishing from his face as he scoops the child into his arms.
I watch the tender scene unfold, a pang of longing tearing through my chest. I'll never get to experience that kind of happiness, not with the dangerous world I've become entangled in. With a determined sigh, I force myself to pull away from the curb and head back home, knowing that I need to find a way out before it's too late.
I pull into my driveway and grimace. I have no idea how long it's going to be until Constantino wakes up, but when he does, I know he's going to be mad.
Oh, well. I guess I'll have to deal with it when that time comes. For now, I'm way too exhausted to give it more thinking time.
Locking up the front door, I trudge upstairs, feeling the weight of the last 24 hours on my shoulders. All I want is a hot shower and sleep—a temporary escape from this mess. Stripping off my clothes, I step into the shower, letting the warm water cascade over me as I try to wash away the chaos that seems to cling to my skin.
"Damn you, Constantino," I mutter under my breath, even though I know I'm just as much to blame. Things are getting too dangerous, and I don't like that he tried to keep me captive in that godforsaken mansion. Yeah, the sex with him is really good—scratch that, mind-blowing—but it's not worth my freedom. I resolve that the next time I see him, I'll tell him we're done.
As I finally climb into bed, I plug my phone in and wait for it to turn back on. As soon as the screen lights up, it chimes, jolting me from my thoughts. "Seriously?" I groan, reaching for the device. A message from work informs me that I'm being called in for an overtime shift. Just what I need right now.
"Fuck my life," I sigh, tossing the phone onto the nightstand. But deep down, I know it's not just the overtime that bothers me. It's the overwhelming feeling of entrapment, the sinking realization that I'm stuck in a web I can't seem to break free from. And as much as I want to blame Constantino for all of this, I know I have to face my own demons too.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I bolt upright, heart pounding like a jackhammer. I glance around the room, my vision blurry at first, but then it clears. I'm at the mansion. Memories flood back—our meeting with the Irish gone to hell, bullets ripping through the air, Evelyn patching us up. I try to slow my breathing, but my chest heaves under invisible weight.
"Shit," I mutter as I notice Evelyn's absence and the missing car keys. Trust her to pull a vanishing act when things get rough. And where the hell is Sebastian?
Throwing on my clothes, I make my way downstairs, the scent of stale blood lingering in the air. In the kitchen, the two guys who got shot sit at the table, nursing cups of coffee. They look pale, but alive. That's something, at least.
"Hey, you two seen the Doc or Seb?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Nah, boss. Haven't seen 'em," one responds, wincing as he shifts his wounded arm.
"Feeling any better?" I ask, already knowing their answer.
"Okay, considering we got pumped full of lead," the other grumbles.
"Alright, just...stay put," I say, frustration gnawing at me. How can everything go sideways so fast?
"Sure thing, boss," they agree in unison, their eyes downcast, probably thinking about how close they came to dying. It's times like these that remind me how fucked up this life really is.
"Sebastian, you better have a damn good reason for disappearing on me," I murmur to myself as I storm out of the kitchen. My thoughts are a whirlwind of anger, fear, and concern. I need to find Evelyn, make sure she's safe, and figure out our next move before we all end up six feet under.
My anger simmers as I storm through the hallway and shove open the door to my study. The room is filled with dark mahogany furniture, the scent of leather-bound books heavy in the air. My clenched fists tremble at my sides, frustration boiling over.
