Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Above the stage, fixed to the wall in bold, art deco-style letters, was a glowing sign, “Emerald City.”
I scanned the room, still unsure of what was happening or why I had been brought here.
That’s when I spotted Anthony.
The fucking Siren.
He was at the bar, casually eating soup and chatting with the waitresses as if he didn’t have a care in the world. The sight of him, so relaxed and unbothered, was both a relief and a puzzle.
I thought you were dead.
“Over there.” Banks pointed to the right.
My gaze drifted to the front of the room.
There, in the front row, sat Marcelo, the head of the Rowe Street Mob. He was hard to miss, his presence commanding even in such an unassuming setting.
I headed that way, while Banks and the rest of the men remained behind, watching.
Of course. This idiot wants to show me how much of a big man he is.
I sneered.
You better not make me regret not killing you.
Then, I thought of how much he had helped Zuri and Carmen, and swallowed down my annoyance.
Let’s see what he has to say.
I made my way through the bar, trying to maintain a calm exterior while my mind raced.
I navigated the tight confines of the dining space in the bar. The sound of drunken renditions of Christmas songs mingled with the rich tones of the jazz singer on stage.
In the corner, a group of slightly inebriated patrons, wore Santa hats and belted out a slurred version of Jingle Bells.
Some faces were light and merry, illuminated by the festive lights, while others were harder, more menacing. The scarier individuals watched me as I passed, their eyes tracking my every move with an intensity that sent a chill down my spine.
Those must be his top guys, ready to kill me if necessary.
I felt the weight of their gazes as I approached Marcelo’s table.
Look at you. All grown up.
His aura was unmistakable, a king in his court, surrounded by his subjects.
Marcelo watched me approach.
A slight smirk played on his lips. Surely, he was aware of the power he held in this place.
What do you want?
I approached Marcelo’s table and sized him up.
His green eyes matched his green suit. Long black curls fell over his forehead. The only jewelry he wore was the Rolex wrapped around his wrist, which was all diamonds and white gold.
Two men flanked him.
One sat on his left. He was an imposing figure. His muscles practically bulged out of his shirt, topped with an odd haircut that seemed out of place in the current setting.
However, I recognized him immediately from the gun tattoo decorating his hand.
That one is Gunner.
The guy on Marcelo’s right was the complete opposite of Gunner—slender with a pair of green-rimmed glasses perched on his nose.
While Gunner watched me.
This one was engrossed in a thick book and had his feet casually propped up on the table. I checked the title of it.
The Alchemist.
Marcelo gestured at the chair across from him. “Glad you could join us, Reaper.”
Scowling, I lowered into the seat. “It wasn’t exactly my plan for the evening, but here we are.”
Gunner shifted slightly. His gaze never leaving me.
Meanwhile, the man with the green glasses simply turned a page in his book as if completely uninterested.
Marcelo placed his hands on the table and knitted his fingers together. “We have much to discuss.”
I leaned back in my chair. “Do we?”
“You’re out of prison.”
“I am.”
“You’re supposed to be in.”
“Now that’s no way to celebrate Christmas.”
Marcelo frowned. “I’m assuming Viper Mob let you out, since you have their head boss driving you around and being your little minion.”
“He prefers chauffer.”
Gunner smirked. “That’s a pretty dangerous and powerful chauffer you’ve got watching your back.”
“What can I say?” I shrugged. “I like to get around in style.”
Marcelo snorted.
Mr. Glasses lifted his head and watched me. “Did you know that the Red Widow put a bounty on your head an hour ago?”
Tension gathered in my shoulder.
Francesca’s move to put a bounty on my head was undoubtedly a calculated attempt to slow me down or eliminate me altogether.
You were always a cunning enemy, Francesca. I figured you would do something like this. I’ll have to high-five you right before I kill you tonight.
This bounty would surely complicate my plans for revenge. With a price on my head, I’d be a target for every aspiring assassin and desperate criminal looking to make a name for themselves.
It wasn’t just about the money; it was about the prestige that came with taking down a high-profile target like me.
The streets of Shadow Heights would become even more dangerous for me now. Every shadow could conceal a potential threat, every chance encounter a possible ambush.
I glanced at Marcelo and the others, aware that they were watching me, likely trying to gauge my reaction. I couldn’t show any weakness, any sign that Francesca’s move had rattled me. I had to stay composed and play my cards close to my chest.