Savage Mafia Prince

Micah

W hen someone woke me up by pounding on my door at three in the afternoon, I thought it was a very aggressive Jehovah’s Witness. Or maybe my landlord, because he sucks at giving me twenty-four hours’ notice for repairs even though I’ve repeatedly reminded him I work nights.

I sleep during the day. Which means if you need me to be anywhere but unconscious in my bed in the afternoon, you need to give me notice.

I had stumbled to the door and pulled it open without looking, which was my first mistake. My second mistake was freezing as the blind-panic instincts of my childhood took over and the rest of me refused to believe what I was seeing.