THE MAFIA BOSS WENT COMPLETELY STILL WHEN A LITTLE GIRL ENTERED HIS MANSION AND SAID, “MY MOM COULDN’T COME TODAY…”

he had chosen not to question it.

He looked at Emma again.

Honey-brown hair. Pale eyes. The stubborn tilt of her chin when she tried to be brave.

Clara tightened her grip on the blanket.

“I can explain.”

Lucas’s voice dropped to almost nothing.

“Start.”

Clara looked between Emma, the blood on the floor, and the shattered window.

“Not here.”

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