The Mafia King of Philadelphia: From witness to his doted wife

Sienna didn’t move. For a moment, she only watched, weighing it, whether to step in or step away, whether this was hers to touch at all. Then she walked closer, slow, unbothered by the gun or the tension thick enough to taste.

”You look like a very decent person,” she said, in Mandarin, her tone almost idle, like she was commenting on the weather. ”How did you end up involved with people like this?”

The room went still.

Viktor, Marco, and Manuel all turned to stare at her at once. The Chinese man’s whole body seemed to loosen with relief.

”You speak Mandarin, thank God.” The words rushed out of him, equal parts gratitude and disbelief.

”Please, tell him the money is on the fifth floor of the San Loca Mall. A room with a code. I was told only he knows it.”

”I see,” Sienna said.

”What did he say? Did he tell you where the money is?” Viktor’s patience was already gone, the words snapping out of him.

Sienna held up a hand, buying herself a beat, and turned back to the man.

”You should stay away from people like this,” she said in Mandarin, low, almost gentle.

”They kill without thinking, especially the big jerk who calls himself the boss. He’s such a bastard. Honestly, I wish I could kill him myself.”

She said it like she was venting to a friend, not standing in a room with a gun still raised. Viktor, Marco, and Manuel exchanged a look, none of them following a word of it.

”Sienna.” Viktor’s jaw tightened. ”What are you two talking about?”

She switched to English without missing a beat, turning to face the three of them properly now. ”He said he’ll tell you where the money is but only after you guarantee he leaves back to China alive.”

Silence. Then Marco let out a short, disbelieving laugh. ”This man is asking for his death.”

”Ah...” Sienna lifted a finger, cutting him off before he could go further. She turned to Viktor instead.

”You can’t harm him, or you won’t get your money. That’s the deal. Is that acceptable to you?”

Viktor’s eyes narrowed, but the gun lowered an inch. ”He better make sure my money’s all there. Every cent. Or his entire family pays for it.”

Sienna nodded once and turned back to the man, switching languages as easily as flipping a page.

”I made a deal with him on your behalf,” she said in Mandarin. ”That you will only give the location once he promises not to kill you. He’s agreed. So get out of here as soon as you can, don’t waste time.”

The man’s shoulders dropped, relief loosening something in his face. He nodded fast, thanking her twice, three times, the words spilling out of him in a rush of gratitude she barely seemed to register.

”Okay.” She turned back to the room. ”Fifth floor, San Loca Mall. He says you are the only one with the code that opens the door.”

That was all Viktor needed. Marco and Manuel were already moving, pulling their jackets straight, falling into the brisk, businesslike rhythm of men about to go collect what they were owed.

Sienna turned to leave.

Behind her, the man kept thanking her quietly, relentlessly, like the words were the only currency he had left to give. ”You can speak Mandarin?” Viktor’s shock was plain on his face.

”What, did you forget?” Sienna switched smoothly into French.

”I bite, so stay away from me.” She tilted her head just enough to let him know she’d caught what he’d said in French last time, the comment he probably thought had slipped past her.

Viktor’s mouth curved into a smile. ”Impressive. You keep surprising me every day.” He said it almost fondly, as the realization pleased him more than it unsettled him.

”You haven’t seen anything yet.” Sienna held his gaze, steady, testing the ground before she pushed further.

”So will you let me leave? I won’t tell anyone about the murder. It’s not like anyone’s even looking. We could both just go our separate ways.”

It was worth a try, even if she already knew the answer.

Viktor’s smile didn’t move, but something behind his eyes hardened. ”We’re past that stage, wife.” He let the word sit there between them.

”Have you forgotten we’re married? You don’t get to leave me. And believe me, if you want to leave that badly, I’d feel bad about it. But I would send you to your maker before I let you walk away. It’s the rule. No one leaves the gang once they’re in. Only death does.”

”I am not a member of your gang.” Sienna’s voice was flat now, stripped of the playfulness from a moment ago. ”You forced me into this.”

She turned and walked away before he could answer, because talking to him always frayed something in her, wore her nerves thin in a way few things did.

—-

Sienna stayed inside for the rest of the afternoon. Viktor checked on her once, easing the door open just enough to look in, but she kept her breathing slow and even, her back to him, and let him believe what he wanted to believe.

It worked. She heard him murmur to someone in the hall she’s asleep and then the house settled into the particular quiet that meant people had left.

She gave it longer than she needed to. Long enough that the silence stopped feeling like a trap.

When she finally rose, it wasn’t with any plan. She moved through the house without direction, restless in the way of someone who needs to walk simply because sitting still has become unbearable.

She wasn’t going anywhere, she knew that. There was nowhere to go. No passport. Viktor kept it somewhere she’d never found, and even if she had, she was deep in the mountains, the house remote enough that the nearest road probably didn’t know it existed. No guards, oddly. Maybe Viktor trusted the isolation more than he trusted men with guns.

She wandered anyway.

It was in one of the back rooms that she found it a briefcase, sitting alone on a table like it had been forgotten, or hidden, or both. Curiosity pulled her toward it before she’d decided to let it.

She opened it.