Ezra's POV:
I was in the backseat of my armored S-Class, parked discreetly two blocks from the hospital—the distance Davina had demanded. The engine was idling, a low, predatory hum. The tablet was open on my lap, detailing the final clean-up of the house and the official police narrative: Dexter Voronov, a known associate of Eastern European organized crime, killed during an aggressive home invasion. Clean, surgical, and utterly false.
I was speaking quietly with Andrea, who was still inside the hospital, fulfilling Davina's mundane request. The contrast was agonizing: I was dealing with murder and international criminal empires, while she just wanted a change of clothes.
"The situation is stable, Ezra," Andrea's voice came through the comm, calm and steady. "Lexi is still asleep and stable. Davina... she seems calmer, though shaken. I just convinced her to let you handle the cleanup, which is progress."
"Did she mention me again?" I asked, my voice tight.
"She asked for fresh clothes," Andrea replied, a slight smile detectable in his tone. "And she told me to keep the security tight. She's prioritizing Lexi's peace. It seems she wants to keep her distance from your… presence."
I rubbed my temples, the residual tension from the confrontation with Dexter thrumming beneath my skin. "Get the clothes and get back to your post. And Andrea, make sure those two men at the door are rotating and alert. I don't trust the staff on that floor."
"Understood. I'm walking back to the wing now."
A few seconds passed. I listened to the muffled ambient sounds from Andrea’s mic: the soft swoosh of hospital doors, the tread of his expensive shoes on polished linoleum.
Then, the ambient noise stopped. There was a sudden, jarring silence, followed by a sharp intake of breath from Andrea.
"Andrea? Report." My voice was instantly lethal.
"Ezra... The guards," Andrea hissed, the calmness instantly vaporized, replaced by sharp, professional panic. "The two men at the door—they're gone. I don't see them."
My blood turned to ice. My hand shot out, grabbing the internal door handle. "Where did they go? Did they rotate without permission?"



VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABEL
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Entangled with the Mafia Don