The Mafia Assassin

Twenty-Five

Nicholas made his way quickly down the wet lane. All the muscles in his body ached. He didn't want any more time. Adrian's eyes were everywhere. The note at the hideout was a statement rather than merely a warning. He needed to get back to Allison. Nicholas sensed it, even though the streets were oddly silent.

The weight of invisible eyes followed every step he took. This was not something he had time for. His fingers tightened around his rifle.

A shadow lunged at him as he turned the corner. Before Nicholas could react, a powerful force struck him, pushing him up against a damp brick wall. Then, gritting his teeth and swinging his arm to knock his assailant back, he shot through his ribs.

But before he could recover, another person emerged from the darkness. A blade flashed towards his face. Nicholas barely dodged, the sharp edge close enough to graze his cheek. He fired a shot, but Adrian's men, his attackers, were already on the move and they were swift and threatening. Grabbing his wrist, one of them roughly twisted it. His gun fell out of his hand and clattered against the concrete that had been soaked by the rain.

Letting out a groan, Nicholas managed flinged his assailant over his shoulder, giving him the upper hand . The man groaned as he struck the ground hard. The second assailant made a lunge but he dodged the attack. Nicholas sent the attacker a vicious elbow to the jaw. He faltered. Nicholas only needed that. Without thinking, he turned and took off. The attackers were still on the ground and still getting up to chase after him, but Nicholas was more familiar with this place than they were. He threw himself over a metal fence, landed hard, and continued on. Behind him, there was gunfire. The sound of bullets bouncing off masonry walls. He continued. He didn't turn around. By the time he got to his car, his shirt was wet from the running and rain, his knuckles were white, and his lungs were burning. He climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine and took off.

Alison, meanwhile, walked consciously through the darkened house. Her heart was pounding. A gentle drizzle has replaced the storm. However, the tension had not. She had to hide. Waiting for Nicholas to return was not an option for her. There had to be a safe place in the house. A backup hiding spot. She went through each room by room. The bedroom, the kitchen. However, she couldn't find anything. She was about to give up when she noticed something. The wall had a barely noticeable door.

Alison paused, then pushed against it. She was surprised to find that it opened easily and revealed a small stairway that led downstairs.

A secret room.

The air was still and chilly. She lay on the walls, which were surrounded by ancient books, papers, and pictures. She picked one up, and she was in shock.

A Younger Nicholas smiling, with a girl with dark hair and a soft grin, looking up at him with his arm wrapped around her. With trembling fingers, she turned through more photos, notes and journals . Throughout the year, it held bits and pieces of Nicholas's life that he had buried and never spoken about. Worst of all, Amelia looked a lot like her and could have been mistaken for her if she hadn't been positive she wasn't the one. She barely had time to process what she was seeing. Then

A voice cut through the silence, low and dangerous.

“What are you doing here?”

A shiver ran down her spine.

Slowly, she turned.

Nicholas stood at the entrance, entirely drenched, blood on his knuckles; his eyes drifted to the photos in her hands, and his eyes darkened.

For the first time, she felt something raw in his expression, a warning.

She knew she had stepped into something she wasn't meant to find.