5. Reflections of Fear #2
Panic fills her expression before she stumbles over her next words. “I didn’t know that. He must have been taken in by them as a child then. All I know is that the mafia won’t mess around. They will kill you if you aren’t protected.”
I want to press her further, but I let it go. She looks like these memories are a strain on her emotional state.
“I know.” My voice cracks. “That’s what Zeke said too. Says marriage is the only way he can protect me. His connections to the New York mafia will stop them from taking action.” I press my fingers against my temples, trying to ward off the building headache. “How did this happen?”
“I don’t understand,” Lydia says softly. Her confusion only deepens. “Are you saying Zeke is a part of the mafia?”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Or at least used to be.” I pick up my glass, but am met with disappointment when it’s empty. I need another drink. Maybe five or six more to numb my emotions and make me forget about this nightmare.
“Eve, you can’t,” Lydia whispers, leaning forward. Her hazel eyes shine with concern behind her red cat-eye glasses. “This is insane. You barely know him.”
Her words echo my own spiraling thoughts, making my chest tighten further. The gin isn’t helping anymore—if anything, the alcohol is amplifying my anxiety, making the room spin.
“What choice do I have?” My voice cracks again. “They know I’m a cop.” I reach for my empty glass with trembling fingers. “I don’t like it, but I believe him when he says he can protect me—keep me alive.”
“We’ll figure something else out,” Lydia interrupts. “You can go into witness protection. Transfer to another precinct. Something—anything—besides marrying a man connected to the fucking mafia!”
“I have Leo,” I whisper, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. “I can’t just disappear into witness protection with him. He’s already lost both his parents—I can’t uproot his entire life again.”
Lydia’s face crumples at the mention of Leo. She reaches across the table to grab my hand, squeezing it tight. “There has to be another way. We’ll think of something. You cannot marry him, Eve. You just can’t.”
“You don’t understand.” I pull my hand free. “These people, they’re not going to just let this go. They connected me to the investigation—”
“Then let your department handle it!” Lydia’s voice rises with desperation. “They have protocols for this, right?”
“It’s not that simple.” Olivia’s quiet voice cuts through Lydia’s protests. “If they want her dead, they’ll find her. Trust me, I know how these families operate.”
“What do you mean?” Lydia asks, her brow furrowed in confusion. She looks between us, clearly struggling to grasp the gravity of the situation.
Olivia’s hand trembles as she takes a long sip of her drink. “Growing up in New York, I saw things.” She swallows hard. “People who betrayed the family didn’t just disappear. They’d find their loved ones first—parents, siblings, children. They’d send messages, pieces…” She breaks off, shuddering.
The gin sloshing in my stomach threatens to make a reappearance. I think of Leo, innocent and vulnerable, already orphaned once. The thought of him being caught in the crossfire of mafia vengeance makes my blood run cold.
“Once you’re in, you’re in for life,” Olivia continues.
“Nobody leaves the family unless they allow it. Nobody.” Her blue eyes meet mine, a mix of sympathy and fear.
“If they’ve marked you as a threat, Eve, your only options are protection or death.
And in their world, protection only comes through loyalty—through family. ”
I reach for Olivia’s hand. I have so many questions. I want to ask her how she knows all of this, but I let it go. That’s a conversation for another time.
Lydia’s face is pale, her earlier protests dying on her lips as she finally begins to understand what we’re up against. She reaches for her drink with shaking hands, no longer arguing against my impossible choice.
“Aunt Evie, I’m hungry!” Leo whines from the living room couch. He’s sprawled out playing his Nintendo Switch.
I glance at the clock—7:47 PM. “You just had dinner an hour ago.”
“But I’m still hungry!” He rolls onto his stomach, those big blue eyes pleading with me. “Can I have some ice cream?”
Normally, I’d say no. It’s late, and sugar before bed is asking for trouble. But after the weekend I’ve had, I could use some ice cream myself. “Fine. One scoop.”
While Leo bounces excitedly into the kitchen, I try not to think about Zeke’s ridiculous marriage ultimatum. I keep telling myself there has to be another way. I’m a detective, for Christ’s sake. I don’t need some vigilante ex-mafioso to protect me. I can figure this out.
I grab two bowls from the cabinet, the ceramic clinking as my hands shake. All I need is evidence. Proof of their threats. One recorded conversation, one paper trail, one witness willing to testify. Then I can build a case against them, get them off the streets legally.
“Can I have chocolate sauce?” Leo asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Sure, buddy.” I reach for the bottle, squeezing a zigzag pattern over his vanilla ice cream. The familiar domestic moment grounds me, reminds me of what’s really important. I have Leo to think about. I can’t go running off half-cocked into some mafia showdown.
But I also can’t marry Zeke. The thought alone makes my chest tight. Not after Ryan. Zeke may not be like him or ever abuse me in the same way, but I still can’t do it. I just can’t. Can I?
The choice and consequences drag my heart to my feet. It feels impossible.
Leo digs into his ice cream, chocolate sauce smeared across his chin. Looking at him, so innocent and trusting, my responsibility settles heavily on my shoulders. I have to find another way. Not just for me, but for him too.
I take a bite of my own ice cream, barely tasting it as we make our way to the living room and turn on a movie.
We settle onto the couch and the TV blurs as my thoughts take over, cataloging all the possibilities. There must be something in the case files at work. Some leads I can follow, some connections I can make. I just need time to figure it out.
The thoughts spin in circles and time passes in the blink of an eye.
“Can we watch another one?” Leo asks through a yawn, snuggling deeper into my side. I shake my head and focus on the TV. The credits for Kung Fu Panda roll across the TV screen, casting a blue glow over our dark living room.
I didn’t see any of it.
“It’s already past your bedtime, buddy.” I run my fingers through his sandy blond hair.
“Please?” He tilts his head up, giving me those puppy dog eyes that are getting harder to resist. “Just one more?”
I glance at my phone—10:43 PM. Way too late for a school night, but the warmth of him curled against me under our favorite fleece blanket makes me hesitate. These quiet moments together are becoming rare as he grows more independent.
“How about we just stay here for a little bit?” I suggest, pulling the blanket higher around us both. “We can talk about your favorite parts.”
Leo yawns again but nods eagerly. He’ll likely be asleep in no time, which means I’ll have to carry him to bed. “I liked when Po finally believed in himself and did the split.”
“That was pretty awesome.” I smile as he mimics Po’s kung fu moves under the blanket.
“Aunt Evie?” His voice grows serious. “Do you think Mom and Dad would’ve liked this movie?”
My heart clenches. “Yeah, baby. They would’ve loved watching it with you,” I reply, my voice soft. I try to keep the emotion in check.
He falls silent for a moment, his small body warm and nestled against mine. “I miss them,” he finally whispers.
Those three little words hit me like a punch to the gut.
“Me too.” I lean down and kiss the top of his head, inhaling the scent of his shampoo, a comforting reminder of his innocence. “So much.”
We settle into a comfortable silence, letting the world outside fade away. The only sounds are the gentle hum of the TV and Leo’s steady breathing, each breath a small reassurance he’s still here with me. I watch as his eyes close, only to snap open again as he fights off sleep.
“Tell me about them?” he mumbles, the words slurring as he struggles to keep his eyelids from surrendering to fatigue.
“What do you want to know?” I ask, hoping to give him a glimpse into the memories swirling like ghosts in my mind.
“Everything.” He’s asleep before I say another word. Carefully, I pick him up and carry him to bed.
After tucking him in and kissing his forehead, I head back to the living room. The house is too quiet, too empty. I settle back onto the couch.
A flash of light through the window catches my attention. Headlights. A black SUV with tinted windows pulls up across the street, engine idling. I wait for someone to get out, but minutes tick by, and the vehicle remains stationary, its headlights cutting through the darkness like predatory eyes.
It’s much too late for someone to just sit out there.
My cop instincts kick in. I set down my drink and move to the window, staying hidden behind the curtain. Too dark to make out the plates.
Five minutes pass. Ten. The car doesn’t move.
A chill runs down my spine as I remember Gio’s face from the undercover op where he thought I was a hooker. He looked at me like he was ready to eat me alive then toss my remains to the hounds.
And then there are Zeke’s words. “They’ll kill you, Evelyn. Slowly. Painfully.”
My hand instinctively reaches for my service weapon, but it’s upstairs. Sweat breaks out across my palms as I watch the car, my heart hammering against my ribs.
This is how it starts. They watch you first, learn your patterns, figure out when you’re most vulnerable. I’ve worked enough cases to know the drill. But knowing doesn’t make it any less terrifying when you’re the target.