MY Possessive Mafia Men

Chapter 173: It Could Be Anyone On The Street Chapter 173: It Could Be Anyone On The Street Angha

Trying to ease my frightened nerves by controlling my breath, I went toppen it again. I had been too skittish to get a good look at Mi had been inside the first time, my mouth was dry and the food I had recently eaten didn't feel like it would stay down for much longer The sight of a cute teddy bear shocked my system, especially after i had envisioned something much worse. It looked mucent when t sat inside the box, but every nerve in my body obiected to the sight.

With clammy and shaky hands, I took a picture and a video of it, aware that I could use this for extence later if the price would ever help me. On the bear's was a small white card, reading the front content To my sweetheart."

I felt nauseous looking at the neat and elegant handwriting. My sweetheart, if I didn't know it abeady, I do mrc. When he had called me on my phone, he had also called me his sweetheart. It was disturbing that he called me. The endearment was mocking the real meaning of the words. With a tentative hand, I picked up the card and flipped it, the same handwriting was on the other side, but with a new

message.

Happy one year. I read out loud and then tensed.

Even the sound of my own voice felt unwelcome. Happy one year, what the hell could that mean? Tears veled up in my ee but not fam sadness or fright, I felt that too. But I was also so angry, this person invaded my life like it was his right he gave me threats to keep E away from my men. He texted me and called me. He went into my apartment, taking away my only safe space, where I used to feel secure. Where I should have been able to take a break from everything, it hurther fucking hurt to have some vinate my life like that I hurried the bear away from me and shoved the box off my bed in a bitter sort of rage. If I had a fireplace in the apparment, I wouldn't have besitated to burn it all. Every fiber of the beat, the box and the fucking card.

police, but what the hell would they do about it? After the pulkenar tad minimized my situation, I had basically been thrown out of the station the last time I was there. They had made I sound like this was a prank rather than someone who was forcibly entering my life and messing it up while tamiving me in the process. You could count on the police fr one thing, to protect after the fact. They wouldn't do that until after you had been put in danger. My s they surpared my telef that I couldn't trust them to keep me safe. A sob escaped me, taking my body with

had already started alienating me from my best friend because I was too scared of getting Andy hum if

UT MED home. He had been stripping me of my security and already, after stepping into my

window leading to the fre excape because it could any open izpen the inside out. So, he must ove fitted in that way unless he broke the window with i would bune muted. Why waillen eves Kined the antie fax and how to bas 1 couldn't find anything indicating that someone had broken inside. There has aming ese scared me. Because that theme, this person either had a key or he had lack-gucked. I hated both of these possibilities, if he had a key can be would here has sess a etter zane in my landlord's on the guys. But if he could lock-gick, then it mean that it wouldn't help to

and the topics i

Bokarm sign, i sved sysed up team the wall grabbed the axis drain in my scan and wedged it were

sat down on the best. I knew

173: It Could Be Anyone On

so anonymous it wasn't even funny. Besides Andy and my men, I wasn't close with anyone, especially not close enough to get this kind of attention. I didn't have an ex-boyfriend or some ex-friend who would

a storm, making the walls creak as well. With my overactive brain, the combined sounds made it seem like I was in a horror movie, I kept envisioning someone outside my door, waiting for me to fall asleep. I didn't sleep at all, not even a minute. Instead of sleeping, I focused on making a list of suspects,

existed, he would be mine. And yet, the thought that most crimes against a victim were done by someone they were close to had too much of a grip on my paranoia