The underground fight club smelled of sweat, blood, and rotgut vodka.

"Hey doll, hike that skirt up a bit and I'll give you a hundred."

A thug with a meaty, jowly face tried to grab my thigh.

I clamped onto his wrist, digging my thumb into a pressure point.

He screamed and let go.

"Cash only. No touching." I slammed a water bottle on the table.

I needed five grand for that damn Academy ticket.

This was my fourteenth night putting up with this harassment.

3 AM. The club finally closed.

I changed and walked out the back door, only to find two familiar figures blocking the alley.

Luca, and his foster mother, Martha.

Martha looked at the envelope in my hand like I was a thief.

"Elena, how can you be so selfish?" Martha charged at me, finger in my face.

"Luca hasn't slept in days because of that incident! He needs that money to grease some palms and clear his name."

"At least you know your place, working to pay your debts. Hand it over!"

The woman was screeching.

I looked at Luca.

He stood silent in the shadows behind her, wearing a jacket that didn't fit, looking gloomy and greedy.

I laughed and shook my head.

"No. This is my pay."

I tucked the envelope into my inside pocket.

"He is the only hope for this district!" Martha shrieked.

"It should be your honor to sacrifice for his future!"

"Honor?" I looked at Luca. "Letting a woman take the fall for you—is that how a future Don acts?"

Luca’s face went white. A few local thugs passing by started laughing.

"Shut up!" Martha, humiliated and angry, raised her hand to slap me.

I caught her wrist in mid-air. Hard. She yelped in pain.

I shoved her back, and she stumbled into Luca.

"Don't touch me," I stared at Luca. "If you're that broke, go beg on the corner like the rest of the bums. Stop looking at me."

I turned and walked away.

Three months passed. I never saw Luca again.

I finally scraped together the tuition. I didn't want to wait another second, so I went to the boss to cash out.

"Five thousand dollars total," I said. "Give it to me, and I'm gone."

In the office, the boss had his boots on the desk, toying with a silver revolver.

He looked up like he’d heard a joke.

"What money?" He sneered. "Tony was here yesterday. He said that cash covers the interest on his loan here."

My blood ran cold.

"That is my money! Why did you let someone else take it?"

I clenched my fists, ready to fight for it.

I took one step forward.

The boss was faster.

He jumped up and kicked me hard in the stomach.

Pain dropped me to my knees. My stomach churned.

A cold gun barrel pressed against my forehead.

"Wages?" He looked down at me, eyes full of cruel amusement.

"Trash like you exists because the Family allows it. You think you have the right to discuss wages? Say one more word, and tonight you go in a shipping container straight to the Mexican border."

I choked on a mixture of mud and rain.

Two bouncers tossed me into the back alley like a bag of trash.

My broken rib on the right side was screaming. Every breath tasted like copper.

"Cough..." I struggled to get up but collapsed back into a puddle.

That's when a pair of worn-out boots stepped into my vision.

I lifted my head with effort.

It was the crazy old woman from the edge of the slums, Maria.

She had one eye and always smelled of cheap booze.

Usually, she wouldn't even look at me.

But tonight, she crouched down, her rough fingers pressing on my rib.

"Not dead yet," she rasped, her voice like sandpaper on concrete.

Without another word, she hauled me up and dragged me into her shack filled with scrap metal.

The sting of alcohol poured on my cuts almost made me pass out.

Maria skillfully wrapped my chest with strips of cloth. Rough, but surprisingly professional.

When she was done, she went to the corner and pried up a loose floorboard.

She pulled out a rusty metal box and tossed it into my lap.

"Take it."

I opened the box. No money. Just a heavy coin.

Solid gold, with a bleeding eagle carved on the front.

The highest token of the "Blood Oath"—a Gold Medallion for the Elite Academy.

Holders get direct entry, no fees.

I looked up at her in shock.

"Where did you get this?"

Tears welled up in Maria's single eye. She took a swig of liquor.

When she looked at me again, she was calm.

"Your mother left it."

My heart skipped a beat.

"My mother? Tony said she ran off with another man."

"Tony's full of sh*t." Maria stared at the coin. "Your mother was the Family's most lethal weapon. She didn't run. She drew the enemies away to save you."

She grabbed my shoulder, nails digging into my flesh.

"Go to the Academy. They have the deepest intel network in the Family. Climb the ranks. It's the only way you'll find her."

I gripped the coin. The cold metal felt like it was burning a hole in my palm.

It wasn't just a ticket; it was proof my mother was alive.

I stood up, fighting the pain, and tucked the coin into my breast pocket.

"I will find her."

Maria reached out and wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth. Her eyes turned sharp.

"Listen to me, girl."

She lowered her voice to a growl.

"Don't let anyone see that thing."

The day of enrollment arrived.

I stood silently assessing the place, basically a prep school for the Mafia.

They said getting into the Academy was harder than passing through the pearly gates.

Early in the morning, luxury cars lined up for miles. Everyone stepping out reeked of money and power.

I stood there in jeans faded to white, surrounded by young lords and ladies in bespoke suits. I stuck out like a sore thumb.

But I had the coin.

When the instructor saw the gold coin, the sneer on his face turned into pure terror.

He didn't ask a single question. He saluted me with respect and waved me through.

That afternoon, cleaned up and dressed, I followed the teacher into the training grounds.

Not far away stood Luca, dressed in a white suit.

He didn't look like a bum anymore. Only his smile betrayed the shy boy he used to be.

And on his arm was Sofia.

The legendary daughter of the Godfather.

"This is my new bodyguard, Luca," Sofia introduced him to the crowd, smiling sweetly like a doll. "And my future husband."

Luca straightened his back, basking in the attention.

Until his eyes swept over the corner and landed on me.

In that instant, his gaze turned venomous, like a snake baring its fangs.

Then Sofia spotted me and ran over enthusiastically.

"Hi! Are you in the marksman class too? I'm Sofia. You have such cool eyes!"

Luca followed close behind, shooting me a warning glare.

"Sofia, don't talk to people like her," he lowered his voice. "She looks like she just crawled out of the gutter."

I watched him act, keeping my face cold. I didn't expose him.

"Quiet!" The instructor's roar ended the scene. "Everyone to the range! Except you, Elena."

The instructor pointed at me, wearing that look reserved for the lower class.

"The Academy doesn't feed freeloaders. Your tuition was covered by special privilege, so you need to work."

"Go. You have until tonight to clean the 'Hall of Legacy'."

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

I stood tall, face calm.

"Understood, sir."

I knew exactly what that place was. It housed the files of every legendary killer in the Family's history.

Late at night, the Hall was dead silent.

I mechanically wiped down the glass cases, each displaying weapons that had once been bathed in blood.

Until I reached a cabinet in the deepest part of the room.

It was covered by a heavy black cloth, as if hiding a disgrace.

Compelled by something I couldn't name, I pulled the cloth off.

Dust filled the air, making me cough.

When it settled, I saw it.

Inside the glass case lay a pair of custom M1911 pistols, the grips carved with intricate rose patterns.

And next to the guns stood a yellowing photograph.

The woman in the photo wore a black trench coat, holding two guns, her eyes as cold as arctic ice.

Most importantly... that face was a mirror image of mine.

I stood frozen. I ignored the instructor's voice shouting from the doorway: "Are you done yet? Lights out!"

My fingers trembled as I traced the cold glass, my eyes dropping to the nameplate below.

Written in red, marking the Family's highest-level warrant—

"Most Wanted Traitor:?Natalia Volkov."

That was... my mother.