21. Tyson

21

TYSON

L ars bursts through the door without knocking while I’m hunched over paperwork in my trailer. My head snaps up, ready to tear into him for the interruption, but the look on his face stops me cold.

“Boss, we got trouble. Paulie’s here, causing a scene by the main tent.”

My blood runs ice-cold. Sofia left this morning with fire in her eyes, talking about taking control of her life. Did she go straight to that piece of shit and tell him about us?

“What kind of scene?” I rise from my chair, already reaching for my jacket.

“He’s throwing shit around, demanding to see you.” Lars blocks the doorway. “You want me to handle it?”

“No.” My jaw clenches. “I’ll deal with this myself.”

My mind races through the possibilities. If Sofia told him everything, this could blow up our whole operation. Jimmy Moretti finding out I’ve fucked his daughter—his engaged daughter—could destroy everything we’ve built. And yet, I don’t care. All I care about is Sofia taking back control of her own fucking life.

“Get Nash and Colt to clear the area,” I order Lars as I check my phone and find Sofia still hasn’t replied to my earlier message. “Keep the civilians away. The last thing we need is witnesses if this goes south.”

Lars nods and disappears. I take a deep breath, steadying myself. The memory of Sofia in my bed this morning, her red hair spread across my pillow, her curves pressed against me—I push it aside. I need a clear head for whatever’s coming.

I step out of my trailer into the sun, heading toward the sound of breaking glass and shouting. Whatever Paulie knows or doesn’t know, I’m not letting him destroy what Sofia and I have started. She’s mine now, whether he likes it or not.

I stalk toward the main tent, my hands already curling into fists. The familiar weight of my knife presses against my ankle, and for once, I don’t try to push down the darkness rising inside me.

Sofia is worth any price. Worth burning everything to the ground. Worth killing her piece of shit fiancé, worth taking down Jimmy himself if that’s what it takes. The thought should scare me—Jimmy Moretti isn’t someone you cross lightly. But all I feel is cold certainty.

I’ll risk my empire, my freedom, and my life because the alternative is letting her go, and that’s not happening—not now, not ever.

Movement catches my eye. Paulie spots me through the gathering crowd, his face twisted with rage. He shoves past a couple of carnival workers, sending popcorn flying. His expensive suit is wrinkled, tie askew—he looks unhinged.

“You motherfucker!” He charges toward me like a bull, face red with fury.

Turning, I walk into the big top, needing to keep this private. Paulie follows me, and once inside, I turn to face him, letting a slow smile spread across my face. This is it, then. Whatever he knows, whatever Sofia told him—One way or another, Paulie won’t be a problem after today.

My fingers twitch to grab my gun at my waist, but I force them still. Not yet. Let him make the first move. Let him give me the excuse I need to end him.

“What seems to be the problem?” I keep my voice level, watching him with cold amusement. Nash and Colt linger near the entryway, leaving just me, Lars, and Paulie in the main tent.

Paulie’s face contorts as he gets in mine. His breath reeks of expensive scotch. “You fucked my girl, you piece of shit carnie trash. You’re a dead man.”

I arch an eyebrow, maintaining my calm despite the rage building inside me at hearing him refer to Sofia as ‘his girl.’ She’s not his anything. Not anymore.

“That’s quite an accusation.” I keep my hands loose at my sides, ready. “Got any proof?”

“Don’t play dumb with me.” Spittle flies from his mouth. “I know all about your little late-night meetings. Did you think I wouldn’t find out? In my town?”

I notice Lars shifting closer, hand inside his jacket. I give him a subtle shake of my head. This is my fight .

“Your town?” I laugh, the sound sharp and hollow. “Funny. Last I checked, this was Jimmy Moretti’s town. You’re just the errand boy he’s trying to marry his daughter off to.”

Paulie’s face goes purple. “You’re fucking dead.” His hand moves toward his waistband. “I’m going to put you in the ground myself.”

I don’t hesitate, grabbing my gun and firing before he can reach his. The shot echoes through the tent as Paulie crumples, a look of shock frozen on his face.

“Fuck,” Lars swears beside me. “This is really bad, boss.”

Movement catches my eye as two of Paulie’s men burst through the tent flap, weapons already drawn. But we’re ready. Lars, Nash, and Colt have their guns trained on them before they can get off a shot.

“Drop them,” I order, my voice ice cold as I keep my gun steady. “Unless you want to join your boss.”

The goons exchange glances, clearly weighing their options. Four guns against two isn’t great odds.

“Now,” I bark, taking a step forward. “On your knees, hands behind your heads.”

They comply slowly, weapons clattering to the ground. Nash moves in swiftly to kick their guns away while Colt covers him.

“Don’t even think about moving,” Lars warns them as he secures their weapons. “Your next breath depends on how still you can stay.”

I look down at Paulie’s body, my mind already racing through the implications. Jimmy Moretti’s future son-in- law lying dead in my carnival tent. This is going to require some careful handling.

I keep my gun trained on Paulie’s men while checking his pulse. Dead. No going back now.

“Get their phones,” I order Lars, who pats them down efficiently. “And their wallets. I want to know exactly who we’re dealing with.”

Nash and Colt move in perfect sync, zip-tying the men’s hands behind their backs. One starts to protest, but Colt’s fist connects with his jaw before he can get a word out.

“That empty trailer behind the Ferris wheel,” I tell them, holstering my weapon. “Make sure they’re secured and unconscious. We might need them later when Jimmy comes looking for answers.”

Lars hands me their phones and wallets. “What about him?” He nods toward Paulie’s body.

“We’ll deal with that next. First, get these two somewhere they won’t be found.” I flip through one of the wallets, memorizing the details. “Check them for tracking devices or anything that could give away their location.”

Nash and Colt haul the men to their feet. One tries to resist, but Nash twists his arm until he whimpers.

“Move,” Colt growls, shoving them forward.

I watch them disappear through the tent flap, then turn to Lars. “Get Phoenix. We need to start damage control now.”

“You think Jimmy will believe Paulie shot first?”

“He better.” I glance at the body cooling on my carnival floor. “Because if he doesn’t, we’ll need every bargaining chip we can get.”

Lars nods and pulls out his phone while I plan our next move. Having Paulie’s men as leverage might make the difference between survival and all-out war with the Moretti family. The family of the woman I’m obsessed with.