MAFIA'S THORN

CHAPTER TEN

ALTON'S – POV

She manages to reach the door before I grab her around the waist with one arm and cover her mouth with the other to prevent her from screaming.

The second I touch her, she explodes into motion. Her entire body jerks violently against mine, thrashing hard. She twists against my grip, trying to create just enough space to slip free. But I tighten my hold, not giving her the opening. Her elbow digs back, knees shoot up, she resists with everything she has, clutching the door handle firmly.

Her bedroom light is on, casting a glow across the room. But she doesn't see me as she has her back to me. "It's me," I tell her. A heel stomps on my foot, sending a lancing sharp pain through it. "Damn it," I hiss.

"Flarie, it's A..." I don't finish my sentence, as she throws her head backward, nearly making contact with my nose which I barely move in time.

"f**k, Flarie." She is making this harder than it needs to be.

She claws at the doorframe as I haul her away from it. A small decorative vase on a nearby table crashes to the floor and shatters. The noise only seems to make her panic more. Her breathing becomes frantic.

I almost admire her determination to break free. So many people freeze when they are afraid, but from what I have seen, Flarie fights.

I drag her to the bed before she can break my nose. When we finally get there, I sit down, pulling her onto my lap to stop her from kicking me.

Holding her head in place, I bring my mouth close to her ear. "It's Alton," I repeat.

Her movements slow. They are no longer as erratic as before. Maybe it has finally occurred to her that if I intend to hurt her, I wouldn't have spent the last three minutes trying not to get murdered myself.

I unclamp my hand from her mouth but still hold her around the waist. Her breathing is ragged, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

She immediately stands and faces me. "What the hell, Alton?" she gasps "How did you get in here?"

Without leaving the bed, I look at her, then let my eyes wander around her room.

"For f***s sake, Alton." she snaps, running a hand through her hair. "This is not the time for you to be silent."

She starts pacing. "I'm very sure the door was locked." Pointing toward the entrance. "And you weren't hiding in here."

I see a bandage on her thumb. Standing up from the bed, I walk toward her and take her hand. Turning it over, I examine it thoroughly. My eyes search for any other signs of harm, but there are no other wounds, only the one on her thumb.

My thumb brushes over the edge of the bandage, as my eyes stay fixed on the white strip around her thumb. "Flarie, how did you get hurt?"

She looks at it. "I got a cut from a broken glass last night." Then raises her eyes to mine, "answer me."

"That lock won't stop anyone."

Flarie blinks. "What does that even mean?"

"It means it's not secure."

Then she laughs. A short, disbelieving sound that ends abruptly. "That's ridiculous. Everyone in this building has the same lock, and there haven't been any break-in reports." Her honey-brown eyes hold mine. "Until now."

"It didn't take long."

The color slowly drains from her face. She untangles herself from my arms and walks to her front door, crossing her living room. She tries the knob, but it's locked.

Folding her arms, she stares at me. "It's still locked."

"I locked it when I came in."

A dog barks somewhere in the distance. Flarie's expression changes, looking unsettled. "Why would anyone want to break into my apartment?"

"It doesn't work that way."

"Alton." She lets out an exasperated breath.

I walk to the window instead. Outside, pale shades of blue and gray stretch across the sky, slowly brightening the horizon as the first signs of dawn appear. "You need additional locks." My jaw tightens as I look out at the empty street below. "Add a deadbolt and chains today."

She ignores the statement. "What aren't you telling me?"

I turn back toward her, studying her face. I can see fear in her eyes, either because of how I entered or because she knows I am not overreacting. If only she understands how much worse things can become.

After a moment, I step closer to her. Lifting my hand, I tilt her chin up, studying her face. The first rays of sunlight begin to creep over the skyline. It’s time for me to go.

Pulling away, I stride toward the front door.

"Wait." She calls out.

I stop.

Flarie stands in the center of the room, watching me. "Are you seriously leaving?" She throws her hands up in disbelief, stepping closer. "After you break into my apartment and scare me half to death, you're just going to walk away without answering my question?"

She stops in front of me, her gaze burning into mine.

Seeing the confusion on her face, I take the keys to the front door from the small ceramic bowl on the table where she keeps them. Unlocking the door, I say to her, "get your locks changed."

Her brows knit together, a deep frown settling between them. "That's all you're going to say and how do you know where I keep those?"

I look back one last time. "Flarie, if you don't change the locks, I'll know." I shut the door.

The hallway is empty, and so is the staircase. I walk downstairs and exit the building.

My black Mercedes-Maybach is parked where I left it.

I sent Mario back with the parcel I found on Flarie’s doorstep, telling him to dispose of it when we arrived in the early morning hours. He asked if he should come back, I told him no. There was no need.

Opening the door and slide into the driver’s seat. I sit in the car, staring at the apartment building. Specifically at her window. The sky has become brighter now, revealing the empty streets and the surrounding buildings.

Her curtain shifts. She is watching. This is the second time she has done that, but now she is more alert.

I know exactly what it looks like right now, but an explanation won't solve the problem.

I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, dialing a number. The line connects immediately. "Report."

A familiar voice answers. "I checked on her, and she doesn't know."

"Move four men from the warehouse. I want eyes on her."

"Boss, did something happen?"

I think about the weak lock and the untouched package I notice outside her apartment. "Do it."

The voice becomes serious. "Understood."

I drop my phone and drive off.