Ruth Lee (TAMING THE MAFIA PRINCESS )

Ruth Lee

The cold barrel of the shotgun stared at me like an unblinking eye, a harbinger of death. My legs went jelly, and my throat closed as if the fear had clawed its way up to strangle me. The man holding the gun didn't flinch. Not a tremor in his grip. He'd done this before — too many times.

Who the hell are you people?" My voice broke, more of a plea than a question. I hated how weak I sounded, but I couldn't help it. "Why are you after me?"

The man's lips curled into a cruel smirk. "Oh, so you're the one they've been hiding?"

"Hiding?" I shook my head. My pulse was pounding in my ears. "I don't know what you're talking about. What do you mean?

He cocked his head to one side, studying me like some puzzle he couldn't quite solve. "Did you come alone?"

"Yes," I lied, my voice trembling. I did not trust my body to keep still-so I clutched the edge of the counter behind me and crossed my fingers he didn't catch my trembling fingers.

He leaned to the side, peering out the store's window. His eyes narrowed at the car parked by the gas pumps. He shot me a questioning look.

I nodded, swallowing hard. "I came alone," I repeated, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Good." He motioned with the shotgun. "Come around here. Slowly."

I hesitated, my feet glued to the spot.

"Now!" he barked, his voice cutting through the tension like a whip.

I sidled around the counter, my knees no longer cooperating. The slim width between the shelves was claustrophobic, boxed in by cans of food and cleaning supplies. Each step felt heavier than the last.

"What's in the bag?" he asked, nodding toward my backpack.

I gripped it tighter. "Just clothes."

He snorted, disbelief oozing from his tone. "Sure. Clothes." His gaze hardened. "You really have no idea what your family's done, do you?

I shook my head, my mind racing. "Please, I don't know anything. Where's my family? What do you want from us?"

The man laughed, a dark, humorless sound. "Your family pissed off the wrong people. The Don doesn't forget, sweetheart. You're all gonna pay."

"The Don?" My voice shook. "I don't even know who that is. This is some kind of mistake.

Mistake?" He cocked an eyebrow, highly amused. "Kid, you're neck-deep in it, whether you like it or not. And guess what? It's your birthday. How fitting."

I didn't get a chance to wrap my head around what he said because, right then, a sharp crack cut the air. Blood sprayed across the Cheerios boxes on the shelf beside me. The man slumped to the floor, his shotgun clattering beside him. His lifeless eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.

I froze, my heart pounding against my ribcage. Warm droplets dotted my face and hands. I blinked, trying to grasp what was going on.

"Ruth." A voice, one that I knew, jerked me back into reality.

I turned to find Frank Xia filling the doorway behind me, gun still raised but now with a silencer fixed to the muzzle. His features were placid, uncomfortably so, as though he had simply checked another task off his morning to-do list.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, stepping inside over the top of the dead man as one would step over a puddle.

Smearing at the blood on my cheek, my hands shaking, I said, "Was that necessary?"

Frank didn't respond right away. He checked the room, peering behind shelves and down the narrow hallway that disappeared into storage. Satisfied we were alone, he removed the silencer and tucked it in his pocket.

"He wasn't going to let you leave," he stated flatly. "I didn't have a choice."

"You always have a choice," I said grudgingly, the words feeling insincere as they left my lips.

Frank didn't argue. He just jerked his head toward the door. "Let's go. We've been here too long."

I stepped over the body, making sure not to look down. My stomach was churning, bile rising high in my throat. Outside, the cool night air slapped me in the face, but it did little to steady my nerves.

Frank slid into the driver's seat, and I followed, shutting the car door with shaking hands. The engine hummed to life, and we pulled back onto the road.

I glanced over my shoulder. The car that had been tailing us earlier was parked a few meters away. The driver slumped forward, his head resting on the steering wheel.

"Did you kill him too?" I whispered.

Frank's jaw tightened. "He was a threat.

A threat. That's all it took for him to end someone's life. I stared out the window, the weight of everything pressing down on me. My family was gone. My home was gone. And now I was running for my life with a man who didn't hesitate to pull the trigger.

"Stop the car," I said suddenly.

Frank shot me a glance. "What?"

"Stop the car," I repeated, my voice rising.

"Don't be ridiculous. We can't stop here."

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" I yelled, beating at the dashboard. "Stop the damn car!"

Frank grumbled something under his breath, then veered over to the shoulder. I yanked open the door before he could say anything and spilled out onto the asphalt. In either direction, the highway lay empty and ominously silent beneath the pale lights of lamp posts.

"Ruth, get back in the car," Frank called, stepping out as well. His tone was sharp, but there was an edge of frustration in it.

"No! I'm done with this. I'm done with you." My voice cracked, but I kept walking, my steps unsteady.

Frank caught up to me easily. He grabbed my arm, his grip firm but not painful. "Listen to me. I know where your family is."

I stopped, my breath catching. "You know where they are?"

His eyes softened just a fraction. "Yes. But you have to trust me."

I wanted to scream, to claw at him and demand answers, but all I could do was stand there, my body shaking with exhaustion and anger. "Why should I trust you? You've done nothing but lie and kill since this started.

Frank's jaw flexed. "Because I'm the only one who can keep you alive."

I hated that he was right. I hated needing him. Most of all, though, I hated that I had no choice.

"Fine," I whispered. "But if you're lying."

"I'm not," he cut in. "Now get in the car.

I let him take me back to the car in silence. The drive was silent; the tension between us could be cut with a knife. I stared out of the window, lights of the city blurring into a messy orange as we flew down the roads.

Finally, Frank spoke. "Your father made a deal with the Don. A deal he couldn't keep. That's why they're after you."

I turned to him, my heart racing. "What kind of deal?"

Frank hesitated, his knuckles whitening as his grip on the wheel tightened. "Let's just say it's the kind of deal that costs people their lives."

I was angry he dodged my question again. "Why can't you just tell me the truth?"

"Because the truth will get you killed," he snapped. "You think you can handle it, but you can't. Not yet.

The car slowed as we approached a dimly lit alley. Frank parked and turned to me, his expression serious. "Stay here. Don't move."

"Wait, what are you—"

Before I could finish, he was out of the car, disappearing into the shadows.