Gia POV
I remembered the day Cassio extracted me from my life three years ago.
He had found me in a Queens tenement that smelled of boiled cabbage and damp plaster, his eyes hard and his commands unyielding. He had warned me then that to preserve the peace in his empire, I was to submit to Serafina's reign.
Back then, I had sworn obedience to my brother's command. I had craved the idea of belonging so acutely that I accepted Serafina's psychological warfare.
It began with erasure: she forbade the Don from ever referring to me as his blood sister in public.
Then came the humiliation. Exercising her stolen authority, she had me moved to a windowless room in the sub-basement, near the groaning pipes of the kitchens. Meanwhile, she occupied the lavish penthouse suite with its view of the entire city skyline.
When the cloying, mildewed air of the basement made me sick, I broke. I begged Cassio for a proper room with a single window.
Serafina intervened.
She mocked me in front of the Capos, claiming my former safe house had been a worse hovel than the basement. Then, in a calculated fit of hysteria, she ran to the balcony ledge. She balanced there, a silhouette against the evening sky, and threatened to break the mafia code by defecting to a rival Syndicate if I was granted my request.
A tremor went through Cassio's frame. His forearm tensed, shoving me toward the rough flagstones as he rushed to restrain Serafina. Once she was back on solid ground, he turned his wrath on me.
He roared at me to apologize for upsetting her. The ordeal ended with me forced into a humiliating, deep curtsy before his chosen sister, my head bowed as if she were royalty, while the guards watched in a heavy, suffocating silence.
Since that day, Serafina's tyranny escalated.
She banned me from wearing designer gowns to the Syndicate galas. She threatened to blackmail Cassio into officially branding me as a mere Associate, a servant on the family payroll. During exclusive Family banquets, she ensured the guards kept me locked in my room. If Cassio dared to show me an ounce of mercy, Serafina would press a stolen mafia blade to her own throat.
Now, three years later, I bore the Don's surname, but I was nothing but a ghost in his halls.
My upbringing in the city's forgotten corners had forged a silent discipline in me. I refused to stoop to Serafina's hysterics. Instead, I remembered the words Leo whispered to me the night our guardians were murdered: "A true survivor honors her own worth."
The sharp click of a woman's heel against marble snapped me back to the present.
Serafina emerged from the mausoleum, her posture a study in irritation.
"Why haven't you entered yet?" she demanded.
"You ungrateful stray," she mocked, the words sharp and pointed.
Cassio clamped his hand on my arm again. His fingers dug into my skin, attempting to drag me into the sacred grounds to avoid another scene.
I planted my feet on the gravel.
"I want to go home," I stated. "I want to go back. Back to Leo's territory."
Cassio's forward momentum ceased. A network of fine lines appeared at the corners of his eyes, and his gaze acquired a dangerous, metallic quality.
"Why would you return to that world when your guardians are dead?" he demanded. "It is too dangerous for an unprotected woman."
His grip on my wrist tightened, a possessive, bruising hold. He stepped into my space, his chest brushing my shoulder. "What has possessed you to defy me today?"
A long, slow breath escaped my lips. I looked him in the eye. "I have another brother," I revealed. "Leo."
Serafina cut me off with a laugh like shattering glass.
"Then crawl back to the gutter where you belong!" she spat.
She looked at Cassio, a malicious glint in her eyes. "I wager my life she will come crawling back to the Syndicate gates in two days."
For the first time in three years, Cassio did not immediately side with Serafina. His jaw clenched.
"The civilian world is ruthless," he argued, a flicker of something other than certainty in his voice. "Do you intend to live like a starving peasant again?"
Serafina's expression curdled at his hesitation. She pointed a manicured finger at me.
"If you leave," she demanded, "you must strip yourself of everything funded by this Family's blood money!"
Cassio fell silent. He crossed his arms, assuming the threat of poverty would force my submission.
I held Serafina's challenging stare for a long moment.
Then, the designer bag slipped from my shoulder, its heavy buckle thudding softly against the crushed stones.
The heavy diamond necklace and bracelet were peeled from my skin, tracing a cold arc through the air before collapsing with the bag, like a pile of magnificent industrial waste, onto the gravel.
"This," I declared, my voice clear of any regret, "is everything the Syndicate ever gave me."
I turned and began walking down the gravel path, away from the mausoleum, away from the only blood I had ever known. I did not look back to see if Cassio would follow. Some part of me already knew he would.
Gia POV
Cassio's voice dropped to a low, freezing register as he stared at the diamonds in the dirt.
"Are you walking away?" he demanded. "Do you plan to leave my territory naked?"
A deep cold settled in my bones, but I refused to cower. Without a second of hesitation, I reached for my collar and undid the first button of my silk blouse.
Around us, the Soldiers standing guard turned their backs. They were terrified of witnessing the Don's blood sister expose herself.
Cassio's jaw worked as he watched my fingers move.
I unbuttoned the second button. Then, the third.
His control fractured. He lunged and clamped down on my wrists; under the immense tearing force, the silk cuff of my shirt emitted the faint sound of ripping fabric, a button popping off and striking the gravel.
"If you have no shame," he roared, his grip a cage of bone and sinew around my wrists, "I still do!"
Exerting his physical dominance, Cassio dragged me away from the mausoleum and shoved me into the back of his armored SUV. Behind us, the sharp, frantic clicking of high heels echoed against the pavement. Serafina scurried after the convoy, refusing to be left behind, and slid into the passenger seat as the engine roared to life.
He slammed the door shut, and the heavy convoy sped off down the private road.
Inside the vehicle, the air seemed to solidify, a mixture of Cassio's pungent bergamot cologne and the stuffy, animal scent of leather warmed by body heat, forcing one to take only shallow breaths. Serafina sat in the passenger seat, relentlessly complaining.
"This sacred memorial is ruined by your presence," she whined, berating Cassio for ever pulling a peasant out of the city's gutters.
Cassio stared straight ahead. His voice carried the terrifying, deadened calm of a Boss about to order a hit.
"Shut your mouth, Serafina," he ordered.
Serafina recoiled in her leather seat.
"Why are you turning your wrath on me?" she demanded, accusing him of broken loyalty.
I calmly interrupted the girl.
"I want nothing from the Syndicate," I stated. "I demand my freedom."
Cassio's face was a mask of fury in the rearview mirror. He accused me of mimicking Serafina's manipulation tactics, warning me that the Don's patience had a limit.
The atmosphere inside the SUV became dangerous, yet I unflinchingly repeated my demand to leave his car.
Enraged, Cassio issued a cold command to his driver. The convoy shuddered to a halt on a desolate stretch of road.
The automatic locks clicked, and the door beside me swung open. A storm raged in Cassio's eyes as he snatched the designer bag from the floorboards and held it out of my reach.
"Get out of my vehicle," he ordered. "Let's see how long you survive without the Family's protection and wealth."
His hand connected with my shoulder, and I stumbled out of the high cabin, my knees striking the rough asphalt.
The armored SUV accelerated away, leaving me in a cloud of exhaust.
As I regained my footing, I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out my Syndicate-issued smartphone. A banking alert flashed across the cracked screen: the Don had frozen the meager emergency funds attached to my name. Disgusted, I tossed the useless, traceable device into a nearby storm drain. I pulled out my hidden burner phone to check the time, the weight of the hundred dollars in crumpled bills in my other pocket a grim reminder of my circumstances.
Three days. I just had to survive three more days until Leo's signal had promised he would land. I clutched the phone tightly and began walking.
I walked for miles until I found a rundown motel in neutral territory. I paid the clerk and locked myself in a room that smelled of bleach and stale smoke.
I sat on the edge of the lumpy mattress, calculating my survival. I knew Leo would not return from his operations for three more days, and the meager cash in my pocket would not cover food and shelter.
The next morning, I walked the city streets, attempting to find legitimate work at civilian fronts.
I applied at diners, laundromats, and grocery stores, but I was turned away by every establishment. They denied me even the most menial labor.
At the final front—a small bakery on the corner—a clerk leaned over the counter and whispered a warning. A decree had come down from the Syndicate overnight, prohibiting anyone in the city from hiring a girl named Gia.
"You have offended the Don," he told me.
I walked out of the bakery, a dry, bitter laugh escaping my throat. I acknowledged Cassio's methods: he was orchestrating my starvation to guarantee my submission.
I pulled my jacket tighter, turned my back on the busy street, and walked toward the derelict warehouses and forgotten alleyways of the industrial district.
Somewhere out there, Leo was preparing. And when he landed, Cassio's entire empire would learn what happened when you pushed a survivor too far.
