He was powerful, skillful. Trained. As his body twisted, he carried his right fist down my stomach in anger. I bent in pain and gasped for the breath taken from my lungs. Dazed by the ache and loss of air, I had no time to react to the agonizing drag of his fist on my face. Again and again. I held on to the throbbing anguish of his hands and blocked his last punch. Its force drove my back to the ground. His body rushed over mine, and I shot my knee into his groin. At last, I saw shock and pain sweep through his hardened eyes. It was quickly forgotten as his scowl threatened death. His heavy hands and fingers wrapped around my throat. I couldn’t smell the rain, blood, or the rotting house. Not while my windpipe burned in misery.

Letting go of his deadly eyes, I scanned the floor for a weapon. I didn’t have long before my body would pass out or accept the afterlife.

Mamma’s footfall distracted me, and his hands slacked slightly. He’d heard her too.

I didn’t face her gurgling sounds, the anguish that bounced off her body, or the slaps her small hands achieved on his skin. It was impossible for me to face her in defeat.

Then, I felt it.

The cool metal against the tips of my fingers. The handgun that mocked life at its distance.

With the little strength I had left, I inched further to my right. It was such a small movement that he didn’t feel my body slithering below.

Battered knuckles gripped its power. Index finger curled, weakening the fearful void. My palm was the one to answer the lifeline call.

I could now face my mother’s frightful gaze. It was bloodshot and filled with unshed tears. She scratched his arm over and over, but it only forced him to apply even greater pressure to her thin neck. He loosened his grip on me as he concentrated on her. With his hand seconds away from crushing her windpipe, Mamma’s eyes held an apology. They held long conversations and years of love.

And yet, her eyes only saw me.

Trapped by them, my chest bounced in burning heaps of silent pleas for her to hold on.

You can’t leave me.

I knew what had to be done. With no hesitation or remorse, I raised my right hand. His foul smile that was aimed at Mamma vanished as he felt the Grim Reaper’s icy touch under his jaw.

His head fell.

His eyes widened.

And I pulled the trigger.

I was the last thing he saw before the bullet penetrated his head. Blood splattered the ceiling in vivid red. The sight of it made it my new favorite color.

The color laced with life and twisted with death.

The blast echoed along with the thunder as his head bowed and his body slumped forward.

I let his weight drown me in the quiet.

I allowed his dead figure to numb my exhausted and beaten body as a reminder to never embrace any weaknesses.

And as I lay beneath him with his blood on me, I failed to feel any remorse.

The rain had washed off the gore, but I kept the sin nearby. Mamma and I didn’t speak a word. We just walked out and didn’t look back. I should have talked to her. Asked for the truth. Hugged her tight. Or watched her love-ridden eyes for a while longer. Instead, I passed out in the passenger seat and woke up with a bitter future under a flickering streetlamp.

ALESSANDRA

Italy

The early morning sky came alive with peaking sun rays. The dark corners were slowly losing ground to the bright beginning of the day. A farewell whisper of the night vanished as I watched the fight end. A fight that could never be won because, after darkness, light always shone. It was inevitable, time.

I hadn’t missed a sunrise since I’d left the States as a child, knowing it could be my last in peace. I knew this day would come. I had wished I could have been forgotten, but the more years passed, the more I understood duty wasn’t something I could avoid.

I was a Zanetti.

Duty ran through my veins, as did the countless deaths my last name carried.

Fully dressed, I sat at the foot of my bed staring out the window, taking in the last peaceful Italian sunrise with a pounding heart. Each beat tallied the seconds, the minutes, I had left.

The ringing of an incoming call broke the bitter silence inside my room. The two men that stood by my door shifted, but I paid them no attention.

It didn’t matter if my guards allowed them in. I wouldn’t follow them without hearing the order from my grandfather or another family member first. I wasn’t naïve; I was born into an unconventional lifestyle that demanded caution.

My grandfather lived on the outskirts of Salerno, quietly and heavily guarded. A port city just southeast of Naples, Italy. Built on the ruins of a Roman temple where the calm waves of clear blue water promised to soothe out your troubles. A place I left shortly after receiving my first structural job. I should’ve never left Nonno’s house, even for the sense of independence.

Because after all the years of being him and I, their presence meant my time with Nonno was over.

With my palm stretched, I waited for the weight of his phone while my attention remained out the window. The ringing grew closer until I silenced its shrieking sound.

No hello, no pleasantries.

I knew who placed the order. Aldo. My eldest brother. The next in line to the New York Mafia.

“It’s been years, Aldo,” I spat with the weight of my future. “And yet, you sent two goons to infiltrate my home. This is not the way to get my attention.”

“I’m not looking for your attention.” Dark and detached, he voiced, “Duty calls.”

“Who is he?”

“You have two hours before your flight leaves.”

“Wait, Aldo!”

“See you soon.”

The line disconnected, and my time to stall was over. I took one last look toward the golden rays, a farewell to the shimmer of freedom as the weight of my duty rolled through my mind with thundering clouds. I stood ready to face my fate: an arranged marriage.

MIAMI

“Could you look less miserable?” I ignored Aldo’s question and watched the dark clouds as they hovered over the full moon.

Three days.

That was how long it’d been since I’d left Italy without a goodbye and stepped on American soil.

I hadn’t had the chance to get answers or bring up my career before the call ended, asking to pack my life. Duty called.

No, not asked, ordered. It only served as a reminder that even as a successful twenty-six-year-old woman with a career, clients, a future, and plans, my life had never been mine.

In two hours, I’d packed eighteen years into a suitcase.

Ten years.

That was how long it’d been since I last saw my eldest brother, Aldo.

Eleven years since I’d last spoken to Dante, my second-oldest brother. This was after he bled a poor bastard with the blade of his knife for whistling in my direction as we walked down the streets of Venice.

No one saw anything. No one said anything.

Today proved it didn’t matter how far or long I’d been pushed away from this family. I still carried the weight of blood and power only a principessa of La Cosa Nostra could.

For me, it meant a loveless marriage.

Because that was all we had ever been in their eyes as a woman, a bargaining chip.

The large blacked-out sedan reduced its speed at the sight of the large gates that hid my future den. That was if everything went according to Aldo’s plan. The size of the home didn’t surprise or intimidate me. Money never did, not when I’d been showered with it to do what was asked of me, as if happiness had a price.

“Don’t ignore me,” Aldo sneered, and the feel of his dark gaze slid over me. “This is not the time for your games, Alessandra.”

Dante was entertained in the back as his dark chuckle traveled inside the cab.

I gave Aldo my full attention. His stern brown eyes demanded an answer.

Without regard to his men at the front, I spat, “My apologies, brother. I’d forgotten it’s just marriage.”

His lips curled in distaste before he shot back, “Say the word, and California it is.”

My head snapped forward, and my breathing sped up as my shoulders stood back. I didn’t speak a word.

“Didn’t think so,” Aldo replied coldly.

The urge to feel the cool touch of my brass knuckles caused my hand to twitch, a desperate tic. Curling my hand around my small clutch where I kept it safely inside, I brought it closer. But it wasn’t enough, and instead, I ran my fingers over my right thigh. My eyes closed to the hint of the thin holster strap where my push dagger hid beneath my dress.

Hurt him.

Hurt him as much as he is hurting you. Show him how his parting gift can be put to use after ten years.

I took a calming breath, easing the fire that burned through my veins, while the car rolled to a complete stop next to the stone front steps of the mansion. This was it, the bit of freedom I once possessed would be taken tonight. All due to ego and a sloppy murder.

Aldo pulled the door handle, stopped, and uttered, “Don’t fuck this up, Alessandra. I won’t blink twice before I deliver you to Los Angeles.” He exited the car, and I waited for his threat to vanish from my mind. Instead, it sank deeper into my soul.

My door opened, revealing Aldo’s inked hand stretched out for me. I took it without choice before wrapping my hand around his arm. The same arm that helped me up as a child after scraping my knees, only to be told that pain and blood were no reasons to cry. They were meant to teach a lesson.

Two steps later, Dante stood to my left, and with each footfall closer to the front door, the more I struggled to keep my legs from giving in.

It angered me to see my own body failing me. I was stronger than this.

Hell, I’d been molded from afar for this role in a country miles away.

“Trust me when I say I am looking out for your best interests, piccola,” he murmured without looking away from the door, his jaw clenched tightly.

I’d always been “little one” in his eyes. It didn’t feel right anymore, not now. In spite of our broken family, I knew he believed he was doing me a good deed.

Seeing how far his judgment had strayed left a bitter taste in my mouth.

“My name is Alessandra,” I gritted out.

The front door opened, exposing the money that spilled within its walls. I wondered how many ounces, bundles, lies, and blood it had taken for such details. Marble floors spread through the main floor until meeting the inside terrace, and the crystal-cut grand chandelier sparkled past the dim lighting. Pillars decorated the inside structure, and I couldn’t help but admire its structural design.

Hundreds of white roses adorned the room, giving no chance to the endless perfumes and colognes worn by the bodies that lingered as the rose scent triumphed over. Breathing deeply, I bathed in their purity before they could wilt due to the corruption that stood in just one house.

Some would call this a charity gala, a fundraiser for a cause. I called it a fraud. Not one person would be standing here unless they had something to gain.

Dante soon slipped away from our side and into darkness. The place he loved most.

“Do you need a drink?” Aldo asked.

I didn’t, but I wanted a minute alone, so I nodded. Knowing Aldo, he didn’t care for one either, at least not now. What he cared about was learning his surroundings, ensuring the two men that came with us had infiltrated the home and our car was ready for a quick exit.

Father would be proud. I almost chuckled at my own thoughts. He wouldn’t give us a second thought even if we all died. In his eyes, we were all too much like our mother. However, I mirrored her sage green gaze. For him, it was enough. I washer, and I continued to pay the price. After her passing, his hatred only grew. That was until I couldn’t move from the pain he’d inflicted, and I was shipped overseas at the age of eight.

Freedom, at least that was what I saw it as. The rules, my grandfather’s scrutiny, and the feeling of captivity were welcome compared to his wrath.

I glanced around before straightening my brown hair over my shoulders. I urged my hands to stop fidgeting and held on to my clutch a bit tighter. My long, deep red dress stabbed my ribcage, and I allowed the uncomfortable feeling to ground me in reality.

Then, I saw her. It was impossible not to pick her apart from this crowd as her eyes shined with hope and dread. I tried not to let myself fill with hatred knowing I was here, standing in the same room because of her. On the contrary, I almost smiled when her eyes snapped at mine. The smile would have been filled with praise. One tiny girl had rattled the ego of many, got away with it, and showcased the scar Dante had left on her neck with pride, as if it was a middle finger for La Cosa Nostra.

And yet, I couldn’t help but pity her. She had no idea what this life meant, and she still chose it—blindly. When the tall blond man who walked protectively by her side whispered, her attention shifted away from me as her eyes glimmered for him, and I understood.

Love.

The death sentence in our world.

An illusion of happiness and a set of shackles meant to prevent you from flying free.

I was so intrigued by the girl who was almost killed at the hands of my siblings that I missed the speech given from afar. Not giving it any importance, or the people that swayed in place, I searched for Aldo as he’d taken longer than anticipated. Instead, I found Dante in the far corner. Only the left side of his face remained out of the shadows. The side that intimidated many by the size of the scar that decorated his left brow and the corner of his eye.

We both kept quiet and away from view as claps and chatter erupted in loud echoes. Dante murmured something under his breath that was not clear for me to understand. As the claps died, classical music replaced the chatter from the live duo nearby. The crowd thinned little by little.

The aura changed within seconds. Dark violence silently swarmed inside, and as I felt its fierce pull, my eyes swung to its call.

Three men walked in our direction with purpose. My feet took a small step back, deeper into the shadows as I stared blankly at the trio. My mind dismissed the two that walked a few feet behind, only focusing on him.

“Massimo.” His name slipped through my parted lips, and my body stilled.

Massimo’s powerful footfalls never faltered, but his dark gaze narrowed as his head inclined slightly and he continued down the hall.

You are not hearing voices.

Massimo's fingers reached the tie of his three-piece black suit, leaving his tattooed neckline exposed as he adjusted himself. His sight turned toward the remaining people inside his home before he gripped the doorknob to his right and disappeared from view. While he took the violent aura along with him, the pull still tugged me tightly to follow. A dangerous pull that was wise to ignore.

A blond-haired man followed quickly behind. His resemblance to the one who’d escorted Davina earlier only brought more questions. As the last guy traced their steps, his wicked eyes caught mine. Dark hair and an even darker gaze trained on me. He stopped, craned his head, and pursed his lips in disgust as Dante moved forward at my side. His eyes assessed me carefully.

They weren't supposed to know about me…yet.

With a quick grip on my brother’s arm in so-called fear, I’d deceived the man into believing I was no one to care about. Just an ordinary woman lost in this made world who sought the thrill of being with a mafioso.

Of course, he fell for it.

He took one last look at Dante before closing the door behind him.

I let Dante go. “Who was that?”

“Your future brother-in-law, Elio. Massimo’s right hand man and Miami’s underboss,” he replied with distaste.

Brother-in-law? Aside from their olive skin and Italian features, Elio and Massimo bear no resemblance to one another.

“Enough talk, it’s time.” Aldo’s voice traveled faster than my body could find him.

I wasn’t surprised to see his hands missing our drinks. Even our small conversations contained lies. Little white lies we’ve told each other for years. The lies we hide behind.

Elio adjusted his tailored suit before he leaned over to Dante.

With a nod, I watched as Dante walked closer toward the door but waited as Aldo stood before me.

“Stay here, and away from view. Only step inside if Dante is the one holding the door open. You hear a gunshot —”

“I know. Find our men and get in the car,” I finished.

“Don’t forget what you are here for.”

“I won’t.”

Aldo gave me a small nod and walked past me, and I was left alone.

We were the enemy.

Invited, yet unwelcome in this city.

A small prayer should have fallen from my lips. A prayer for Aldo’s plan to come through tonight. A prayer for the moment Massimo realized he’d been one step behind. A prayer for what was to come.

But the prayer never reached my lips.

Now, all I could do was watch the pieces fall and the chaos unravel.

Dante held the door open, and the room fell silent as I stepped inside the room.

“A marriage,” Aldo proposed.

With each step I took closer to Aldo, the tension grew thicker.

I couldn’t look around to catch anyone’s reactions or pay attention to the built-in bookcases on the walls. Not when his eyes were on me.

With my head held high, I kept my pace steady while my lungs filled with the smell of oak and bourbon.