Veronica

The door to my study swings open without warning. I take off my headphones and eye my father, who charges in. He's usually the type to respect my privacy.

"Everything okay?" I ask even though I already know the answer. My father is a calm and level man. For him to be this rattled has to mean something really bad has happened.

He takes my hands in his and offers a tight smile. "Principessa, I will be gone for a short while. Your sister is in her room, and the cook will prepare dinner. I hope to be home late tonight, but business could hold me up until the morning, sì?"

I nod, his words not assuring me in the least. "Did something happen?"

"Business," he answers vaguely.

He prefers to keep both his daughters in the dark about anything related to the Familia. Knowing our world and the kind of "business" they get into, Sandy and I prefer it that way too.

"Okay." I give him what I hope is a sincere smile. "You'll be safe?"

"Always." He leans down to kiss my forehead, cupping my face gently.

I feel my stomach sink when he leaves the room. My father is a consigliere of the mafia, which means every time he leaves the house, there's no guarantee he'll come back. It's bad enough we lost my mother four years ago to a heart attack. Every second of my life is spent worrying over the only parent I have left.

I hear him bark orders at his soldiers downstairs. I head down the hall and peer over the stairs just as I catch a whole fleet of them following my father out the door. They're all heavily armed, and the air around them is tinged with panic.

I frown, knowing I have no place to get involved. This is men's work, chauvinistic as it is. Sandy and I are lucky enough that our father lets us study and make our own careers. Women in our world get married off as soon as they are of age. I went to school with so many girls who found themselves married and pregnant at eighteen by force. I'm twenty-four and unmarried, working as a nurse. It's unheard of for a woman my age to be single and without child and to have an actual stable career to support herself. But my father always afforded my sister and me the chance to make our own destiny and fought anyone who challenged him from doing so.

I go to her now, knocking on her door in warning before opening it. Her nose is buried in her textbooks so close she may as well be attached to them. She's in her last year of high school and super serious about her studies.

"Hey." I lean against her doorframe. She mumbles something incoherent back. "Studying?"

"Will be the death of me," she finishes my sentence with a groan. "What's all the commotion outside?"

"Not sure. Father said something about business."

"Ugh. Don't elaborate. I like pretending he's like any other lame dad and doesn't kill people for a lifestyle."

See? I smile gently when I notice her biting her lip nervously.

"He'll be okay," I assure her and take a seat on her bed next to her desk. She swings her chair to face me. "He took all of his soldiers."

"All of them? That sounds pretty serious."

I shrug. "Isn't it always?"

"I guess."

Sensing that she's still worried, I lean forward and close her textbook. She starts to protest until I cut her off with a firm look. Being seven years older than her, I've always had a tendency to mother my little sister to death. It comes with the territory.

"You need a break from studying. At this rate you'll be reciting the periodic table in your sleep."

"That would help me ace my test."

I roll my eyes. "Come on. Let's help Carlotta with dinner."

Though we grew up generally wealthy and privileged, we were raised to never take anything for granted. We had cooks and maids, but we've always done our own chores nonetheless. It was my mother who made sure of that despite my father's protests that there wasn't any need. He was accustomed to that life, having grown up in it. Mother was an outsider and came from a middle-class family. She made sure Father didn't spoil us to death.

"Veronica. Sandra." Carlotta smiles warmly at us when we enter the kitchen. She refused to shorten our names, saying they were too beautiful to be cut off. "You are here to help?"

"What can we do?" I ask, already rolling up my sleeves.

"The vegetables—cut and sauté them, sì? Sandra, you will start on the rice."

We get to work and immediately fall into conversation. Carlotta is so much like a mother figure that sometimes that aching gape in my chest after losing Mother doesn't feel so bad. It hurts every day, but good people help you live with the bad things you've faced.

"What is she muttering?" Carlotta raises a brow at Sandy, who huffs.

"The periodic table. I have to memorise the entire thing for tomorrow's chemistry test."

"You stress too much," she chastises, playfully flicking Sandy's hip with a towel. "Cooking is meant for relaxing."

"And tests are meant to be aced."

Carlotta shakes her head and moves to me, clearly giving up on my sister, who starts mumbling again. "I have been meaning to ask you something."

"Sure." I don't miss how she's dropped her voice to a whisper.

"You've just turned twenty-four, Veronica. You are in a good place. Don't you think...maybe it is time to think about marriage?"

I'm not surprised. Carlotta's been dropping hints on the subject lately. She'd probably ask my father about it too if she wasn't so terrified of him.

"Carlotta, please." I sigh. "Marriage will come once I've fallen in love."

"Is there no one you love?"

"No, and I refuse to marry a stranger in hopes of maybe falling in love with them down the road. I know that's how we do things in our familia, but I want to love and be loved."

"Ma stai scherzando?" She throws her hands up. My lips twitch.

"No, I'm not kidding you."

"The girls these days. I love you, Veronica, but you are taking for granted what your papa gave you. You have completed your studies, and you have a job. So many of the girls did not get this opportunity. Don't – what is it you people say? – "Push it?"

She pushes her palms in front of her for emphasis. I glance over her head at Sandy, who's face-planted the counter in laughter. Little turd.

"Your papa has offered many men for you to meet. It is time to become open to the idea at least."

I shift, my mood souring at her words. "It's not like I need marriage to be complete, Carlotta."

"That is not what I say. But nobody wants to be alone, and having a companion can make life beautiful."

"My life is beautiful," I argue and kiss her on the cheek. "I have everything and everyone I need."

"Stubborn girl." Though she reprimands me, a small smile gets the better of her.

Dinner doesn't take too long, and once it's ready, we dive in. Carlotta and Sandy are engrossed in some kind of argument I can't even begin to make sense of, but I'm also really distracted. I keep checking my phone in case Father sends some sort of update or message to let me know he's fine. I don't know why I expect that. He never lets me know of his whereabouts.

While we clear the table and get started on the dishes, the door to our house bursts open. I look at it expectantly but am met with disappointment when I see Sergio instead. Sergio is one of Father's most trusted soldiers and all but his right-hand man.

"Sergio?" I immediately turn the sink off and dry my hands. "Shouldn't you be with Father?"

"I'm to stay here for the night. Your father will be a while." He speaks in a tone that gives nothing away, just as he was trained to do. I hate that I can't read him.

"Should we be worried?"

"No, but I advise you to go to your rooms for the night and stay there."

Sandy's hand slips into mine as she burrows into my side. "It must be serious if Father sent you to watch after us."

Once again, Sergio gives nothing away. "Upstairs. Carlotta will finish here and then go home."

My sister and I glance at her. Carlotta offers a reassuring smile I know she doesn't feel. We have no choice but to follow orders. As much freedom as we were given, our world doesn't allow us to disobey direct orders. As long as our father is consigliere, his word trumps all. Even he couldn't protect his daughters from the mafia if we went against his words. His power ends here, in New York.

We mumble an intangible goodnight and make our way upstairs. The house is eerily silent, and it's only then that I notice the rest of the staff went home too. Our usually busy house seems silent and still. It makes me uncomfortable.

"Will you sleep in my room?" Sandy whispers.

I'm already nodding. I don't want to be alone tonight either.

I don't think either of us is up for conversation. There's barely contained panic in the entire house, and we can feel it. The familiar sounds of footsteps are missing, and the eerie silence is just that—eerie.

Sandy falls asleep pretty much as soon as we get into bed. She must be tired from studying all day. I suppose I should be tired too after spending most of my day working a shift at the hospital, but I'm wide awake. Restless. I check my phone obsessively through the night and at one point discover it's almost three in the morning. Father isn't home yet, and I have a sinking feeling in my gut, one that continues to grow. It's more than just being worried or cautious. This is different. Impending, somehow.

I wish I'd paid more attention to it.

Clemente

"How?"

I watch him, surprisingly stoic for someone whose insides feel like a fucking sauna of rage. The man I'm desperately trying not to skin alive and chop into fucking pieces glares at his soldier with barely restrained anger. The irony that he's completely ignorant of my own fury is not lost on me. But that's expected. Ignorance may very well be one of his best qualities compared to the others.

"How?" the arsehole repeats. "It was six against two, and you are the only one left alive-by their choice. They were barely armed, for fuck's sake!"

The soldier keeps his eyes locked on his leader, jaw tight. "They are extremely skilled."

"You were trained by me."

"And it was not enough."

His body slumps to the floor immediately. A bullet went through his neck the second those words left his mouth. I look to my right at Vincent, who watches the scene unfold in disdain. It's a miracle he hasn't fired the remaining bullet in our gun yet.

"What do you require?" Cassius Russo Gabriel, consigliere, and the cunt who single-handedly ruined my fucking life, tucks the gun he shot his soldier with back into his waistband before locking eyes with me. His gaze is cold. Calculated. I know I'm wearing a similar expression. "Surely you didn't leave my soldier alive out of the goodness of your heart."

"We didn't realise we were leaving the honours to you either," Vincent drawls. He swings his blade between his fingers. The clench of his jaw is warning enough that he might launch the thing at any moment.

Gabriel looks to my brother, and his scowl intensifies. "This is business between leaders. Who are you to talk to me?"

Vincent moves, but I'm faster. I barely manage to wind my arms around him to keep him from charging forward. He struggles against my hold and lets out an angered scream. It could be at me and not Gabriel, but I can't let him go. He'll ruin the very plan we spent our entire incarceration perfecting.

Gabriel's soldiers reach for their guns, and I reach for mine. There isn't a head in this room that doesn't have a goddamn nine millimetre aimed at it within seconds.

"Smettetela," Gabriel hisses. His soldiers comply and stop, lowering their weapons hastily. Gabriel narrows his eyes at me. "You too, coglione."

My teeth grind. He should watch who he's calling the arsehole here. I keep my gun where it is. "Not happening."

Neither of us looks away, suspended in silent challenge. I raise a cool brow. I know how to play his game. I've been studying it for far too long. He'd do anything to not look weak, and he especially won't allow anyone to think he feels threatened.

"Fine," he shrugs. "If this helps you sleep at night."

Vincent jerks in my hold, another roar ripping out of him. I knew it wasn't going to be easy for us to come face-to-face with this fucker. I need to get this done now, or it will all be for nothing.

"We're going to talk," I demand. "In private."

"Oh? And why would I take such an order from you?"

"Because you don't want to find out what will happen if you don't."

Gabriel chuckles like this is all some big joke. "You're threatening me? With what, if I may ask?"

"You want to go there?"

He spans his arms out. "I have nothing to hide."

"No?" I lick my lips, adrenaline making my mouth dry. "Wise up, old man. We had the unfortunate chance of meeting before. Just the once. And don't you fucking think for a second that I don't remember. Want to take a trip down memory lane with me?"

I see it hit him. His shoulders tighten just barely. To anyone else there's no change in his body language or facial expressions. But I know exactly what to look for because we are the only ones in this room that know what I'm talking about.

"Take us somewhere private," I order. "We will speak now."

A long and terse silence stretches out. His soldiers glance between us to see what their leader will do. They think Vincent and I won't walk out of here alive. They have no idea they're about to roll out the motherfucking red carpet for us.

"Follow me," he finally says.

One of his men steps forward. "This could be a trap-"

"You're questioning me?" Gabriel snaps. The room goes quiet again and fills with tension. Gabriel is rigid when he walks past us and snaps his fingers in a silent gesture to follow him.

I let go of Vincent but regret it immediately when his face contorts. "Let me kill him. Fuck the plan."

"Control yourself," I demand in a low voice. "This is bigger than us. You will not show this fucker the hand we're about to deal him."

When Vincent reluctantly jerks his head in a nod, we follow Gabriel into one of the many cars in the parking lot of the prison. He gets in the front, and I follow suit, ducking into the passenger seat. I can tell by the scowl on his face he's not a fan of my bold behaviour, but I have no fucks to give. Vincent gets in the back, and he stares daggers into Gabriel, not bothering with manners any more than I am.

"You must know how this looks," he finally says. "Openly threatening the consigliere does not bode well for the two men that just got out of jail and took six men down with them."

"Perhaps you should have considered that before you locked us up."

"It was for good reason," he sneers, shaking his head in disgust. "You two murdered your own mother, for fuck's sake."

More terse silence. Glares are passed between the three of us, and the back of my jaw tightens at the mention of her. "We were framed."

"You were framed," he repeats with a humourless chuckle. "Then all is forgiven. Of course I believe you. You are very convincing."

"We were framed!" Vincent snaps. "Why the fuck would we kill our own mother?"

"The murder weapons belonged to you. Your fingerprints were all over it, and they were hidden in your rooms. Her autopsy revealed-"

"Her autopsy report was tampered with," I interrupt. "Don't be a fool, old man. You should know by now what it looks like when evidence is forged. You know the truth."

"The truth? I arrived when she was bled out and nothing more than a carcass." His eyes narrow. "I am consigliere. It was my duty to report you for your betrayal of the mafia the moment it was revealed you two killed her."

He talks to us of betrayal? My hand shoots forward without thinking, and I tighten my fingers around his neck. Gabriel stills with surprise but maintains a hardened face despite the fact that it is gradually turning purple. He severely underestimates the lengths my brother and I would go to for our redemption

"We betrayed no one," I whisper. "We had no reason to kill our mother."

"Except that she was mentally ill and a burden to you. You two barely acknowledged her when she went insane. You-"

His words are cut off with a harsh gasp when my fingers tighten around him. "Watch your mouth, or I'll carve each end of it to your ears."

"You're threatening me for doing my job? My loyalties are to the mafia before you. Seek your vengeance where it is appropriate to do so."

"But who better to seek it from than the very man who got us locked up?" Vincent murmurs dauntingly. "We were in there for months."

He barely glances at my brother before narrowing his eyes on me. "You were still released much earlier than your sentence."

"Because I made a deal with the boss."

He wasn't expecting that. The flash of surprise on his face was unmistakable, albeit brief. He struggles to say his next words with my hand still firmly holding his throat. "You spoke with Cassano?"

"I did. We had a lot to talk about."

"I find that hard to believe. He would never accept a meeting with you without my presence."

"Are you willing to call my bluff?"

He says nothing, but that might have to do with how tightly I'm gripping his throat. I release him, and he sputters, coughing and gasping for air. The indents my fingers left behind on his neck provide me with some satisfaction.

"What's this have to do with me?" Gabriel demands. His voice is hoarse from the choking, and I resist the smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth.

"The deal I made with Cassano...let's just say I promised I would make peace with you and refrain from starting a war under two conditions."

Gabriel's gaze sharpens. He is smart to be suspicious.

"Let's face it – everyone in the mafia expects my brother and me to retaliate. Cassano was relieved that I was willing to behave and granted my two conditions if I could get you to agree to them as well."

"Agree to what?" He barely gets the words out through his gritted teeth. He's brimming with impatience, and it is far too satisfying to watch him squirm.

"Forging new alliances. Clearing our name and announcing our innocence."

"Do you even hear yourself? Give me one good reason why I should allow you murderers back into the family. One good reason why I should clear your names that are stained with guilt."

My chuckle is immediate. I can't help but laugh under my breath at his demands. One reason, he says. I have a motherfucking army of them.

"I thought as much." He smiles slowly. "You have nothing."

I rub my jaw to contain my laughter. As amusing as this has been, shit is about to get fucking serious. "Are you already forgetting what I said back there? I know things about you, pezzo di merda."

"Name something," he provokes.

Slowly, the corner of my mouth pulls up. What a beautiful fucking opening he just presented to me.

Vincent grabs the back of his head to hold him in place as I lean down to speak in his ear. And then I drop the bomb on him. Whisper it dauntingly into his ear and revel in the way his body freezes for a moment. I utter the words he had no idea I had in my possession to begin with. It makes this all too sweet.

"That...that is a lie," he seethes, but the way he holds his breath says otherwise.

I lean back to face him again. "I thought you might say that."

I hold out my arm for him to see and pull my sleeve up. Gabriel notices immediately, if I had to go by how his body locks up even tighter. I turn my forearm leisurely and taunt him with a piece of the past he thought he outran. Foolish bastard. We never fucking escape our pasts.

"I take it this is proof enough?" I murmur.

His raging blue eyes drag up carefully and slowly before meeting mine. They darken to a shade that resembles a sky just minutes away from night.

"How long?" he questions.

I'm assuming he means how long I've had it. "Long enough."

The look on his face is sceptical. Accusing. "And you didn't use this against me sooner?"

"You're aware that chess is my favourite game? I'm known to plan ten moves ahead and bide my time. I have the patience for it too."

"Plan?" He repeats, shoving Vincent's hand off. It's obvious he's starting to understand just how dire this situation is for him. "Are you suggesting that I'm part of this plan?"

"Part of it? "We couldn't do it without you, honey," Vincent winks, a cold grin accompanying the excitement on his face. The moment we've both been waiting for is finally here.

Gabriel glances at my brother warily. Rightfully so. The air around Vincent always charges up when he's ready to strike. You'd have to be incredibly dense not to feel it.

"If you don't do as we ask," I continue, commanding his attention back to me. "This gets out to everyone. The whole mafia will know. Your daughters will know."

I've never seen a man become rigid so fast. If it wasn't for the quickened rise and fall of his chest, I would have thought he had stopped breathing. He's finally giving me what I wanted the moment I laid eyes on him twenty minutes ago – fear.

I drag my middle finger back and forth across my lips. "Speaking of your daughters..."

"No," he snaps immediately. His panic is taking rein now. "You will leave them out of this. They've done nothing wrong."

"And that's exactly why their suffering will kill you inside."

He leans forward and gets in my face. When he speaks, his voice is as hard as steel. "You will not go near them. My family is off limits."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Let's not be ironic here."

"We are Made Men. We have all done things we cannot take back. Don't speak to me as if you yourself are an innocent man. You've sinned just as I have."

"No," I immediately counter. This fucker is making it all too hard to not carve his skin from his body. "You don't want to do that. You know I know the truth. Drop your holier-than-thou act because I see right through it. We are not the same."

His nostrils flare. His body language is the poster image of him gradually losing control. "I will clear your name. Say you were framed and lead the investigation to find the true killers yourself. Satisfied?"

I sit back in my seat. Watching him spiral is oddly calming. "You are negotiating like a toddler. The mafia will suspect that you were forced to do this. You need a good reason to want to clear our names. And what better reason than an alliance – you and I on the same team?"

He knows where this is going. His hands curl into fists. "No. You can't—"

"You will hand your daughter to me for marriage. The eldest one, Marina."

"Veronica," he corrects vehemently. "Are you insane? I'll burn you to pieces before I willingly give her to you."

"You think you have a choice," I observe with amusement. I glance at my brother. "Does he have a choice, Vincent?"

Vincent grins. "Not a one, brother."

"Stop this." Gabriel grinds his jaw. "My daughter is not to be negotiated with. I will give you anything. Anything. But not her."

"But that's why I want her." I pull my suit jacket together, sensing our conversation is winding down. "Because she is the only thing you won't give up."

"What will she think? I have protected her all my life, and now I send her into the hands of a killer? She will be suspicious."

"So let her. That will be my problem when she becomes my wife, unfortunate as that is. But tell me – will she be in more danger with me or with the mafia when they all find out about you?"

He stiffens, and I can see the defeat in his eyes. This is the moment he's realised that his world is about to fall apart and that I am the one responsible for it. He can't stop this or me. My lip curls.

"Do you really think the mafia will pardon your daughters for your sins? They're dead meat as soon as everyone finds out. So pick your poison – a dead daughter or a daughter that belongs to me."

"This can't..." His voice is hoarse and panicked. "You can't do this. Not my daughter. Not my principessa."

"That is rather sweet. Maybe if you try begging?"

Vincent laughs, eyeing Gabriel with cold and excited eyes. All of his earlier frustrations have dissipated. This is what we've been waiting for. To see this arsehole beg at our feet, fall to our command. And to think it is only the beginning.

"Please," Gabriel finally rasps, forcing the words out. "Have mercy."

Mercy? The merciful were those who had something to fear or lose. I had neither. When you've lived through nightmares and seen true horror, you don't have any mercy to give because nobody gave it to you either.

"No." The humour in my tone is far gone. As entertaining as this has been, being face-to-face with this cocksucker doesn't bode well for my temper. I'm ready to move the fuck on." The wedding will be at the end of the month. I will make all the necessary arrangements to show our fellow Familias how sincere I am about this union. You will make an announcement of our engagement and tell the mafia this is an act of peace, to right a wrong. Whatever bullshit you need to say to get it done. Because if you don't..."

I hold up my forearm again. Gabriel watches in disdain, but I can see beyond that. In this moment he feels destroyed. And now I'm going to destroy everyone he loves too.

"Welcome to the family, stronzo." Vincent ruffles Gabriel's hair with another laugh and then gets out of the car. I follow suit, slamming the door shut just as I see Gabriel punch the steering wheel in anger, not even bothering to attempt another fight. Even the worst of sinners know when they've lost.

Gabriel's soldiers watch from a distance. It's comical, the way they slowly reach for their guns but make no gesture to actually use them. If Gabriel wanted us dead, he would hand out the orders. But no orders have been given, and they know by now what will happen to them if they try to open fire.

"Are congratulations in order now that you have a fiancé?" Vincent mocks. The dick is fucking loving this.

"The marriage is irrelevant, and so is the daughter. It's what will come of this union that matters."

"Just stick to the plan. Don't let a piece of ass distract you."

Though he is merely joking around, his accusations piss me off to no end. I keep my gaze straight ahead, feeling my resolve harden. "As long as Gabriel's blood runs through her veins, she will always be the enemy."