MALIA
The silence of Crimson Garden was a different kind of silence at night. It wasn’t peaceful, but watchful.
I stayed up until well past midnight and kept myself busy so as not to fall asleep from exhaustion. Only after it had been more than an hour since I heard the last noise in the hallway did I stand up and mentally prepare to sneak around in a Mafia Mansion at night.
The hallway was steeped in shadow, filled only by the faint silver glow of moonlight seeping through tall windows. I sneaked barefoot across the cold floor, clutching the pin I’d taken from my hair earlier that evening—just in case.
When I reached the first door, I looked around but was alone.
I reached the first door.
Locked. Of course.
I crouched, trying to slide the pin into the lock like I’d seen in movies.
