Page 129 of Thin Lives

Affonso always did like his games.

Calisto seriously hoped this one would end in his favor.

Stepping to the side to keep from view of the peephole in the front door, Calisto reached out and slammed the side of his fist against the hard, polished wood.

Bang, bang, bang.

Whoever was inside would have to be deaf not to hear it.

He didn’t let up. Over and over, he hit the door until he could hear someone cussing behind it and accompanying footsteps.

When the muttering and walking stopped, Calisto made sure to stay still for fear whoever it was might see him standing there.

“Who is it?” a slightly muffled, feminine voice asked.

Calisto, knowing Affonso’s mistress wouldn’t know his tone, replied, “Building maintenance. We’ve got an issue and tenants need to be evacuated immediately.”

He only needed the bitch to open the door without causing a scene.

“What issue?”

“An is—”

Calisto didn’t get the chance to respond fully before alarms started wailing overhead. He glanced up to see the fire alarm going off as lights flickered.

Jesus, Gio, what did you do?

It didn’t matter.

Calisto didn’t have time to worry about all of that—fifteen minutes was what he asked for. So he started counting down time.

Thankfully, the alarm seemed to placate Sandra from within the penthouse into believing that whoever was outside her door was telling the truth. That, or she panicked at the sound. Calisto didn’t bother to think on it too much as the door was flung open.

Before Sandra could even take a step out of the penthouse, Calisto was in front of her, his gun drawn and pointed right at her face. Wide eyes stared down the barrel of Calisto’s gun, but he didn’t let the woman’s fear affect him in the least.

He didn’t particularly like killing women, unless he had to and there were no other options to choose.

This, unfortunately, was going to be one of those times.

He’d ask for forgiveness later.

He always did.

“Get back in there,” Calisto snarled, his hand coming up to shove her back into the apartment.

Sandra let out a scream as she stumbled backwards, but Calisto was already slamming the door shut behind him. The woman barely caught herself in the long, satiny robe she wore, watery eyes flickering between the gun in his hand and his face.

“Where is he?” Calisto asked lowly.

Sandra blinked again. “W-what? Who?”

“Affonso. Where is he? Better yet, my child—the baby—where is he?”

“I d-don’t know what—”

Something hit the floor in what sounded like the far end of the penthouse, but still up above Calisto’s head. It was likely the place had a second level.

The slight distraction had been a bad mistake for Calisto to make. His gaze was just swinging back to Sandra as she pulled something metal and shiny from within her robe.