Goddamn it.
I stood and turned my back on her as I heard the sound of my men approaching, calling out as they cleared room after room.
“Atlas?”
There was a voice from the hallway.My body moved before I told it to.I stepped in front of her quickly, blocking her from view.
“Clear,” I said, voice steady.
“But—”
“Clear.”
My men retreated.
I didn’t look at her again, but I felt her watching me like she was trying to understand why she was still breathing.I didn’t know why, either.And that was the part that scared me.
I moved fast, leaving no room for chance.
The girl was small enough to lift with one hand.I dragged her by the arm, her feet sliding across the tiles.She didn’t resist me.She was still in shock, eyes glassy, breath uneven.
I shoved her into a corner at the back of the pantry, past rows and rows of groceries that would take a lifetime to use.It was a space that was half concealed and narrow, but it was perfect.
I pointed to the space and pushed her forward.
“Stay there.”
She didn’t move for a second.Then she stepped forward, limbs shaking.She curled into the corner, hugging her knees.She wouldn’t be seen if anyone checked, but I started to think if nothing else did, maybe the dark would claim her.
I stood there a moment, listening to the quiet.Then I turned away when I heard footsteps behind me.
“Atlas?”
It was my younger brother Marcello, and he was a little too close for comfort.
“Everyone out,” I ordered.“We’re done here.”
He blinked.“We haven’t swept the basement.”
“There is no basement,” I lied smoothly.
He didn’t move right away.His eyes narrowed, keen and probing.
Good work, Atlas,I applauded myself,you dumbass.Way to draw more attention to yourself.
“There’s no such thing as a house with no basement,” he reminded me.“The Trimboli family is big on them.Storage.Panic rooms.Smuggling tunnels.You know that.”
I held his stare.“And I’m telling you this one doesn’t.”
Marcello stepped closer, lowering his voice, testing my patience.“Then let’s check it.Two minutes.If it’s empty, it’s empty.”
“No.”My tone cut clean, but he still didn’t back off.
“Atlas, we don’t leave loose ends.”His hand twitched toward his gun, not as a threat but out of habit.“Not after what they did to our grandfather.”
I gritted my teeth.“I said it’s clear.”
He looked at me like he was deciding whether to push it.Marcello had always been too curious for his own good, always one question away from getting shot by the wrong person.