I worshipped the mafia Don for ten years, believing my devotion could tame his cold heart.

But as my organs failed in a freezing underground clinic, a text message illuminated my phone.

"Camilla needs a blood transfusion for the baby. You are the only match. Bleed for her, or I will slaughter your father."

I stared at the screen from the man I loved, my heart shattering.

To protect his civilian mistress, Gabriel had caged me and authorized a medical procedure that permanently stripped me of my ability to bear children.

Camilla had faked miscarriages to frame me, playing the innocent victim while secretly poisoning my name.

Now, she was actually pregnant, and Gabriel was willing to drain my dying body to save her.

Because of my blind love, my Capo father went to war for me, which cost him his territory, his men, and ultimately his life.

I died in that clinic, completely drained and discarded like trash.

Until my last breath, I didn't understand.

Why did my decade of absolute loyalty mean nothing? Why did I let my family's legacy burn for a man who only saw me as a blood bag?

When I gasped and opened my eyes, the fatal cold was gone.

I was standing in the center of the Syndicate's grand hall, holding the ceremonial silver dagger that would bind me to him all over again.

I was twenty again.

This time, I looked at the dagger, smiled, and prepared to hand him a bride who would tear his empire apart from the inside out.

Chapter 1

Liana POV

As the last of the poison worked its way through my failing organs in that subterranean clinic, a text message illuminated the cracked screen of my telephone. It was from the mafia Don I had worshipped for ten years: "Camilla needs a blood transfusion for the baby. You are the only match. Bleed for her, or I will slaughter your father."

But when I gasped and opened my eyes, the fatal cold was gone, and I was standing in the center of the Syndicate's grand hall, holding the silver dagger that would bind me to that same man all over again.

The air, heavy with the scent of frankincense and old currency, filled my lungs.

I blinked against the harsh glare of the chandeliers.

The stomach that had just been spasming from organ failure now churned with a warm, acidic fluid. I dug my nails into my palms, the sting of flesh yielding to the pressure a sensation of impossible clarity.

I was alive.

I looked down at the ceremonial silver dagger resting in my palm. The Marriage Drawing Ceremony. I was twenty again.

I lifted my head and looked across the polished marble floor.

Gabriel Rossi stood there.

He was the undisputed Boss of the Cosa Nostra. He was the man who had orchestrated the Valentine's Day massacre, wiping out two entire rival factions before his twenty-fifth birthday to claim his father's seat.

His dark suit was stretched taut across his broad shoulders, and his jaw was locked in that familiar, arrogant line. He did not radiate energy; he consumed it, pulling the attention of every Made Man in the room into the silent gravity of his stillness.

In my past life, I was a foolish girl who thought my devotion could tame him. I had let him cage me, break me, and authorize the procedure that had stripped me of my ability to ever bear children, all because I believed his coldness was a wall I was destined to tear down.

I was wrong. He was not a monster; he was simply a man who enjoyed the meticulous process of taking things apart.

I turned my gaze to the right.

Sienna stood a few feet away. She was the daughter of a powerful Consigliere, and in my past life, she had been my bitter rival.

We had fought over Gabriel like starving dogs over a scrap of meat. But right before I died in that clinic, she had been the only one holding my hand.

Sienna was staring at me, her breathing suspended. Her eyes were wide, reflecting the same visceral shock, the same sudden, sickening clarity that I felt.

She remembered. We both remembered the hell we had just woken up from.

I looked down at the dagger again. This blade symbolized my selection as the Don's arranged bride.

I walked over to Sienna.

I held the dagger out to her and pressed the cold silver handle directly into her palm.

"The title of Mafia Queen suits the Consigliere's daughter much better than me," I said. My voice was steady; there was no tremor in it.

A collective gasp echoed through the grand hall. Gabriel's mother, the Dowager, stepped forward from the shadows of the altar. Her face was pale with shock.

"What is the meaning of this, Liana?" the Dowager demanded. "You and Sienna have torn this city apart fighting for my son's favor. You drew the marked blade. You are the chosen bride."

I looked the older woman right in the eyes.

"I lack the ruthless constitution required for the world Gabriel occupies," I said calmly. "I cannot survive it. Sienna has the strength to stand beside a Don. I recommend her."

From across the hall, a harsh, mocking laugh sounded. Gabriel stepped forward. His dark eyes locked onto mine, filled with an absolute, untroubled disdain.

"It does not matter which one of you puts on the white dress," Gabriel said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the silent hall. "My bride is irrelevant. My true loyalty, and my heart, belong entirely to Camilla."

He said her name with a sickening amount of reverence. Camilla. A civilian—a woman with no Syndicate blood, who hid her venom behind a mask of pure innocence.

The Dowager's face turned red with fury.

"Enough," she snapped. "This alliance is not about love. It is about power. The mafia wedding will take place in exactly three days to secure the Western territories. Gabriel, you will marry whoever holds that dagger."

The Dowager turned and walked out of the hall, her guards following closely behind.

The ceremony was over.

Sienna and I walked out of the estate together. The cold night air hit my face, clearing the last remnants of the incense from my mind.

We did not speak. We did not need to. The shared trauma of our past life bound us tighter than blood ever could.

We reached the busy street corner outside the estate gates as a sleek black car pulled up to the curb.

Gabriel stepped out, reaching into the passenger side to help a woman onto the sidewalk.

Camilla.

She wore a simple floral dress, appearing small and delicate beside Gabriel's towering frame.

Gabriel wrapped his arm around her waist. He looked right at Sienna, who was still holding the silver dagger.

"Understand this right now," Gabriel said, his tone a direct threat. "Camilla will live with me in my fortified penthouse after the wedding. You will be a wife in name only. If you ever disrespect her, I will end you."

He was blatantly breaking Omertà, spitting on the Family traditions right in the middle of the street.

Sienna’s grip tightened on the dagger, her knuckles turning white.

"You bring a civilian whore into the Don's house, and you expect the Commission to bow to her?" Sienna asked, her voice pure ice. "I will use my father's entire network to ensure she is permanently exiled from this city before I even put on the veil."

Gabriel took a single, deliberate step forward, his body eclipsing the gaslight from the streetlamp behind him and plunging Sienna into shadow.

"You will not touch her," he growled. "She is carrying my heir."

The words hit the air like a physical blow.

In my past life, Camilla had faked miscarriages to frame me. Now, she was already pregnant before the wedding even happened.

Sienna let out a laugh, a cold, hollow note that was swallowed by the night air.

"Let's go, Liana," Sienna said, turning her back on the Don. "We have a wedding to plan."

We started walking away.

"Wait!" Camilla cried out.

I heard her footsteps rushing up behind us.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw Camilla running toward Sienna. She reached out, her fingers grabbing at Sienna's coat.

"Please, Sienna, you have to understand," Camilla pleaded, her voice loud enough for Gabriel and his guards to hear.

Then, Camilla did exactly what she always did—she staged the scene.

She twisted her ankle on the flat pavement and threw her weight backward, a calculated maneuver designed to end with her landing hard on the concrete, framing Sienna for the push.

Sienna looked at me, our eyes meeting for a fraction of a second.

"Did she use this exact same trick to ruin you in our past life?" Sienna asked me, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"Yes," I replied.

Sienna did not reach out to catch her. She did not try to defend herself.

Sienna simply took one step to the left, removing herself entirely from the path of the fall.

Camilla lost her balance. With nothing to grab onto, her momentum carried her backward, right off the edge of the curb and into the busy street.

The screech of heavy tires drowned out Camilla's scream as an armored SUV slammed its brakes, its massive bumper grazing her side. The violent swerve and sudden impact sent her tumbling hard across the rough asphalt, scraping her limbs and threatening the life growing inside her.

"Camilla!" Gabriel roared.

He sprinted past us, falling to his knees on the bloody street and gathering Camilla's limp, bleeding body into his arms.

Gabriel looked up at Sienna, his eyes containing a frantic, unhinged light.

"You pushed her!" Gabriel screamed. "You ruthless bitch! You are stripped of your candidacy. You will never be my wife."

His gaze, hot and furious, swung to me.

"Liana," Gabriel commanded, his voice shaking with pure rage. "You will be my bride in three days. If you refuse, I will send my men to burn your Capo father's estate to the ground."

The Syndicate ambulance arrived, its sirens wailing. Gabriel carried Camilla into the back, not taking his eyes off me until the doors slammed shut.

The street grew quiet again.

I looked at Sienna.

"Do you still desire the crown?" I asked her.

Sienna did not answer. A faint metallic rasp sounded from the pocket of her tweed coat as she withdrew a black flip phone.

"I have one last hit to make," she said.

She dialed a number and held the phone to her ear.

"Dad," Sienna said, her voice flattening into a monotone devoid of all warmth. "It's time to set the trap."

Liana POV:

The VIP ward of the Syndicate's private hospital smelled heavily of antiseptic and the cloying sweetness of expensive funeral lilies.

Sienna and I moved down the long, heavily guarded corridor. Men in dark suits lined the walls, their hands resting over holstered weapons, their heads turning in unison to follow our progress.

We reached the double doors of Camilla's room. Through the rectangular glass viewing panel, I could see Gabriel by the bed. His suit jacket was gone, and his white shirt was stained with Camilla's blood. He was holding her hand, his thumb stroking her knuckles with a gentleness I had never known him to possess.

Camilla was awake, a bandage wrapped around her head and an IV dripping fluids into her arm making for a pitiful sight.

I drew a slow breath and pushed the door open.

The rhythmic beep of a heart monitor in the ward ceased for a half-second. Gabriel, who had been stooped over the bed, straightened his spine with a jerk, his shadow falling across the white sheets as his gaze fixed upon Sienna. He dropped Camilla's hand and drew a gun from his waistband in one fluid motion.

He pointed the barrel directly at Sienna's chest.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't put a bullet in your heart right now," Gabriel said, his voice a low rasp, like stones grinding together. "You tried to murder my unborn child."

Sienna did not flinch. Her hands remained relaxed at her sides.

"I didn't touch her, Gabriel," Sienna said, her tone completely flat. "She grabbed my coat and threw herself backward. There are street cameras on that corner. Pull the footage yourself."

Gabriel's finger tightened on the trigger, the skin of his knuckles stretching white under the harsh fluorescent lights.

From the hospital bed, Camilla let out a weak, trembling sob.

"Gabriel, please," Camilla cried. Her voice was fragile, an instrument perfectly tuned to break his heart. "She called our baby a bastard. She said she would make sure I never walked again if I didn't leave the city. I was just trying to apologize to her. I slipped because I was so scared."

It was a flawless performance-she had weaponized her tears with the skill of a master.

Gabriel lowered the gun slightly, but his glare remained fixed on Sienna. He stepped back to the bed and placed a protective hand over Camilla's stomach, a silent vow of retribution.

"The alliance with the Consigliere's faction is severed," Gabriel declared, the words echoing off the sterile walls. "My father will inform the Commission tonight. Sienna, you are dead to me."

Then, he turned his face toward me.

"Liana," Gabriel said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You will marry into my family in three days. The contract will be fulfilled through your Capo father's bloodline."

Sienna sneered at him. "You are a blind, arrogant fool, Gabriel."

I put my hand on Sienna's arm to silence her. I advanced not upon him, but toward the bed, planting my palm on the cold metal frame where the butt of his pistol had just scraped the enamel.

"I accept the blood pact," I said, holding his gaze.

Gabriel looked taken aback. His eyes narrowed, searching my impassive face for a trap.

"But I have conditions," I continued. "If I am to be your wife, we will adhere strictly to the Old Ways. You will personally escort the bride from my father's heavily guarded estate. You will not send your soldiers to fetch me like a package."

Gabriel scoffed. "Is that all?"

"No," I said, pointing a finger at the woman in the bed. "Camilla must formally apologize to Sienna right now. She disrespected a Made Man's daughter in public. That demands restitution."

Camilla's eyes went wide. She looked up at Gabriel, her bottom lip quivering in a pantomime of terror.

"Gabriel, I didn't mean to," Camilla stammered, her voice cracking. "I was just so frightened. I don't know the rules of your world."

Gabriel's demeanor darkened. He holstered his weapon and crossed his arms over his chest.

He looked at me and Sienna with pure disgust, as if we were filth on the soles of his expensive shoes.

"You two are pathetic," Gabriel said, his voice dripping with venom. "You are consumed by petty jealousy. Camilla possesses a purity that neither of you will ever understand. She doesn't belong in this filth. It sickens me that the Commission is forcing me to tie my life to a woman like you."

I kept my face a blank mask. I forced myself to count the slow, deliberate ticks of the second hand on the wall clock-one, two, three. There was no cold sweat, no dizziness.

"Do you wish to abandon the Syndicate's arranged marriage entirely?" I asked him, my voice betraying no emotion.

Gabriel moved toward me, his height casting a shadow that fell across my face.

"I do," he admitted, his voice a harsh whisper. "I want nothing to do with you. But I need the Western territories, so I will play this game. But understand this, Liana-if you ever step out of line as my wife, if you ever look at Camilla the wrong way, you will face my brutal discipline. I will break you."

I looked up at him, at the man who had locked me in a cage for years. But this time, I knew I held the key.

"I acknowledge your terms, Don Gabriel," I said coldly. "My father's estate will be ready for the ceremony in three days. I advise you not to be late to your own wedding."

Without waiting for his dismissal, I turned around and walked out of the room.

Sienna followed right behind me. The heavy hospital doors swung shut, cutting off the sound of Gabriel murmuring comforts to his mistress.

We walked down the corridor in a taut silence until we reached the elevator banks.

The moment we were alone, Sienna grabbed my shoulder and spun me around to face her.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sienna demanded, her fiery temper finally breaking through her calm facade. "Why are you willingly walking back into his cage? We know how this ends, Liana. He will destroy you again."

I looked at my former rival, a woman who understood the depths of Gabriel's cruelty as much as I did. I saw the genuine fear in her eyes.

My lips curved into a slow smile, but the expression did not reach my eyes.

"I'm not the one taking the vow," I whispered.

Before Sienna could process my words, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway.

Two imposing figures emerged from the shadows near the stairwell: my father, the Capo of the Western faction, and Sienna's father, the Consigliere.

Their faces were red with fury; they had heard about the chaos on the street and the severed alliance.

"Liana!" my father roared. His massive hands seized my upper arms, his grip tight enough to bruise. "What kind of mess have you dragged our Family into?"

Beside him, Sienna's father grabbed her by the elbow, pulling her away from me.

"You are both coming home right now," the Consigliere barked. "This foolishness ends tonight."

The elevator doors slid shut, cutting off Sienna's panicked face. I closed my eyes, counting down the hours until I would hand Gabriel Rossi a bride he never expected.

Liana POV:

The air outside my father's sprawling estate was humid and thick with the smell of ozone from an approaching storm.

Armed guards patrolled the perimeter, their assault rifles slung across their chests.

I stood on the massive stone balcony, my gaze fixed on the winding driveway below.

Behind me, my father paced like a caged predator. He was smoking a cigar, the heavy, acrid scent of tobacco mixing with the smell of the incoming rain.

Sienna's father, our faction's Consigliere, stood by the glass doors, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

Sienna sat on one of the patio chairs, watching me with a mixture of concern and disbelief.

"You have lost your mind, Liana," my father growled.

He stopped pacing and pointed his cigar at me.

"Gabriel openly flaunts his civilian whore in the streets. He points a loaded gun at the Consigliere's own daughter. And you still agree to marry him? I curse your blind, pathetic devotion to that boy!"

I turned slowly from the marble railing to face him.

"It is not devotion, Papa," I said calmly, my voice devoid of the desperate emotion that used to rule me. "It is business."

Sienna's father scoffed, a harsh, bitter sound.

"Business? Gabriel insulted my family's honor. He severed a decades-old alliance over a clumsy, insignificant civilian."

"Sienna dodged a bullet," I told the Consigliere, meeting his hardened gaze without flinching.

"Gabriel's house is a sinking ship, rotting from the inside. But the marriage pact is non-negotiable. It is the only thing that secures our faction's absolute control over the Westside smuggling routes. We need that power to survive what's coming."

My father threw his cigar onto the stone floor and crushed it beneath his expensive leather shoe.

"Your life is worth more than pieces of territory, Liana!" my father yelled, the vein in his neck bulging.

"I will not hand my only daughter over to a man who will treat her like disposable garbage. We will break the damn pact. We will go to war if we have to."

Sienna stood up from her chair, her expression resolute.

"Listen to your father, Liana," Sienna urged, stepping forward to grab my hand.

"Break the pact. We can run. My family will back yours with every gun we have. We can fight Gabriel together."

I looked at the three of them. They were ready to bleed for me.

The memory hit me like a physical blow: in my past life, I had let my father go to war for my broken heart, and it had cost him his holdings, his men, and ultimately, his life.

"I will not let a single drop of our Family's blood spill over a man like Gabriel Rossi," I said, my tone leaving no room for argument.

I walked over to the patio table and picked up the heavy leather folder containing the marriage contract.

I tossed it onto the glass surface, the slap of leather echoing in the quiet night.

"Read the exact wording of the Omertà," I instructed.

My father frowned. He exchanged a confused glance with the Consigliere before he stepped forward and opened the folder.

"I am not the bride," I revealed, letting the words hang in the air.

The silence that fell over the balcony was absolute, broken only by the distant rumble of thunder.

"The contract only requires a woman possessing the direct bloodline of our Capo faction to seal the Omertà," I explained, tapping a manicured nail against the parchment. "It does not explicitly state my name."

My father's eyes widened as he scanned the old Sicilian text.

He looked up at me, a horrifying realization dawning on his weathered face.

"No," my father whispered, shaking his head in denial.

"Yes," I said, my lips curving into a humorless smile. "Valerie."

My father slammed the folder shut with enough force to rattle the glass table.

"Absolutely not!" he roared.

Valerie was my cousin. She carried our legitimate Family name, having been adopted into our ranks after her own parents were killed in a cartel shootout.

But she was a venomous snake.

"She orchestrated the 'accident' that left your mother permanently paralyzed!" my father shouted, his chest heaving with rage.

"She actively tried to usurp my territory from under me! I let her live only because your mother, in her infinite grace, begged for mercy. I will not elevate that treacherous rat to the position of Mafia Queen!"

I moved to meet him, halting in the path of his cigar smoke, and at that moment a flicker of lightning from the balcony’s edge threw my shadow long against the flagstones, eclipsing his own.

"That is exactly why she is the perfect choice," I said, my voice dropping to a low, chilling calm.

"Valerie is inherently malicious. She is endlessly hungry for power. She is treacherous to her very core. Her ruthless ambition is the perfect poison to inject straight into Gabriel's life."

My father stared at me, momentarily stunned into silence.

He saw the cold, unforgiving calculation in my eyes.

He saw, perhaps for the first time, that the naive, foolish girl who used to cry over Gabriel was gone.

"I will give Gabriel exactly what he deserves," I promised my father, my vow sealed with icy conviction. "A wife who will tear his house apart from the inside out."

Three days later, beneath an overcast sky, the traditional Sicilian wedding took place.

The courtyard of my father's estate was filled with hundreds of Made Men, their tailored suits hiding concealed weapons.

The air was thick with the rich smell of roasted meat and the sweet tang of expensive wine.

I stood on the second-floor balcony with Sienna, hidden in the shadows of the stone pillars.

Down below, Gabriel stood rigidly by his armored car.

He wore a striking, blood-red suit.

His face was a tight mask of furious impatience, his jaw clenching repeatedly.

With a heavy groan, the massive wooden doors of the estate opened.

The bride emerged into the dim daylight.

She was covered from head to toe in a heavy antique lace veil that completely obscured her features.

Two of my father's Capos escorted her down the stone steps and handed her over to Gabriel.

Gabriel did not even look at her.

He grabbed her arm roughly and shoved her into the back of the car.

He slammed the heavy door shut and got into the driver's seat.

Bound by duty, the Don took his veiled, venomous bride away to his fortress.

Sienna leaned against the cold stone railing beside me.

We watched the motorcade of black SUVs pull out of the wrought-iron gates and disappear down the mountain road.

"I wonder who will draw blood first," Sienna mused, a dark amusement dancing in her eyes. "The treacherous cousin, or the manipulative mistress?"

I turned away from the balcony.

"It doesn't matter," I said, adjusting the strap of my bag. "They will destroy each other."

I picked up my duffel bag from the floor.

"Let's go," I told Sienna. "I have a private jet waiting on the tarmac. I've secured a remote, untraceable estate in Iceland. We are going to disappear."

Sienna grabbed her own bag. A sharp, knowing smile spread across her lips.

"Gabriel and Camilla just signed their own death warrants," Sienna said.

"Yes, they did," I replied, stepping into the shadows.