CROSS ROAD
Mathilda’s POV
I did not leave my quiet little village in Barcelona to die on the streets of New York. But that’s exactly what this case feels like death, written in bold, underlined, with my stupid fearless signature stamped right on it.
Senator Barzini Brasi. Even thinking his name makes the back of my neck prickle. He isn’t just anyone. He is the anyone you don’t look in the eye, don’t whisper about, don’t even joke about over drinks. High-ranking officials sit comfortably in his pocket, folded neatly like handkerchiefs. And here I am, a thirty-year-old woman with a stress ball and an ice-bath routine, apparently volunteering to get crushed in that same pocket.
Rumors say he’s tied to Mafia-level crime. I don’t even need the rumors my past cases already brushed against hi
