Chapter 81. The Russian Mobster's Daughter

MYKAELA

New York

"He's one of the Božićs' hitmen."

"A soulless killer..."

"He tried to kill Lorenzio and Cloe Falco."

"Stay away from him."

The words echoed in my head as I sat next to the labeled shelves stacked with medical supplies.  A bunch of sterile masks, surgical gloves, gauze pads, and other boxed supplies.  The floor reeked of disinfectant, and I didn't know why I chose this old, small, and dimly lit supply room.  But it provided a moment of peace and solitude amid the chaos outside.   

I leaned against the metal shelf with my legs crossed, my right hand clutching my phone, days-old anxiety gnawing at my insides.  The chilly night seemed to seep through the cracks in the door.  But it was the mounting uncertainty that made me shiver, almost paralyzing me with a slew of dark thoughts.

Lorenzio wasn't answering my texts and calls, probably still stuck in his private room in Eastside Regional,