Mag-log in[CAMI]The portrait hangs on the wall of the piano room, where the light hits it just right, softening everything sharp about her. My mother. Perfect curls. A dress she wouldāve sold a kidney to buy. Makeup done so well it almost makes me angry. And a tiny mole above her lip, one I donāt remember ever seeing in real life. She looks⦠composedālike a woman who had her life together. Not the woman who forgot bills, forgot meals, forgot meāexcept when she needed company.I sigh.Behind me, Marco crosses his arms. āI knew youād ask to see it again.āI glare at him. āThat just tells me you donāt listen to my orders.āWhen we came back from Vanceās house, I told Marco to burn the painting. Or throw it out in the trash. Iād been too shaken after seeing Jakeās grave to decide better. But Marco, being Marco, had kept itācarefully wrappedāand now it hangs here like itās always been part of the house. Itās creepy as fuck. āWho are you to order me?ā he asks, raising a brow.āThe queen,ā I reply
[CAMI]Zeke is asleep on my naked chest, one arm wrapped around my waist like Iāll disappear if he loosens a muscle. His face is tucked right between my breasts, warm breath against my skin, hair tickling my sternum. One of his legs is thrown over mine, and he looks so unbothered, so deeply at peace, that for a moment I forget what world we live in. I drag my fingers through his hair slowly, letting the strands slip between them. He sighs, and something in my chest contracts so painfully it almost feels like guilt.Itās been hours since the meeting. Hours since I stormed in like a crazy person, and he pulled me into him like I was oxygen. Now weāre hereāwarm, naked, tangled in each otherāand I force myself to look away from his face because it bends my rationality in ways Iām starting to resent. Iām angry at myself for giving in so easily. Angry that he can stay away for days, functioning, doing whatever monstrous things Dons do, while I lose my mind the second he disappears. When it c
[CAMI]Marco taps his knight against the tableās edge, scanning the chessboard with a frown. āYou forgot everything I taught you,ā he sighs, dramatic as hell. āAll your progressāpoof. Gone. Tragic, really. But on the flip side, I want to play more with you because now Iām winning again.āI just stare at the board, arms crossed.He waits for a reactionāa snarky comment, or a cute threatāanything. But nothing comes, so he slumps back in the chair with an exaggerated groan. I mirror him, leaning back, staring at nothing. The chair is cold. Or maybe Iām cold. I canāt tell anymore.From the corner of my eye, Bianca sits on the couch scrolling through her phone, tapping away. She looks calm and bored. But I havenāt forgotten how she almost slipped to Zeke that I took a pregnancy test. For just that reason, I want to pull out my pink gun and put a bullet through her head. Or her neck. Or shoulder. Doesnāt matter where it lands. I wonāt know if Iām a good shot if I never try. But taking a l
[CAMI]Zekeās still stroking my cheek with his thumb, watching me too closely. I look away afraid that he can see through me, forcing down the lump at my throat. His voice becomes softer. āWhat happened, doll?āI dare myself to take another glance at him. No, I donāt think he knows about the test. I really hope he doesnāt. I sit up slowly. āI wasnāt feeling well,ā I tell him finally. āBut Iām fine now.āHe nods once but doesnāt get off the bed or stop touching me. Since we got back from Vanceās estate, everything between us has been⦠quieter. Hesitant. Held back. But he still holds me at night. Still kisses me like he means it. Still fucks me like he owns me.I wipe the drool from my mouth with the back of my hand. āI went shopping with Vivienne,ā I say, hoping to ease out the tension. āI know.āOf course he does. Zeke knows every movement inside this houseāevery door that opens, every car that leaves, every person that breathes. For a secondāI donāt know whyāI look at him and the
[CAMI]The days crawl.Morning, night, morning, night. Same walls. Same shadows. I spend most of my time in Zekeās arms. His huge, comforting, warm arms that hold me every night like I belong there. And every other disturbing thought fades and goes quiet when Iām with him. Heās different lately. Heās still dangerous. Still lethal enough to wipe out a country if he wanted. But quieter. He doesnāt tease or challenge me. He touches me like Iām a fucking bruise heās afraid to press too hard on.And it pisses me off because it means one thingāheās afraid Iāll pull away. That Iāll change my mind about never hating him. Domestic bliss. Thatās what this is, I guess. At least a form of itāthe mafia edition. Guns in drawers, blood on phones, trauma in bedābut soft kisses in the dark and the way he tucks me into his chest when I shiver, making me feel safer with him than anywhere else in the world. And yet once he leaves, everything slams back. The grave wonāt get out of my head. Jake. That
[CAMI]I donāt know what I expected from that visit. Maybe it was closure. Or maybe it was just an opportunity to rile up my father. What I didnāt expect was to leave with a fucking knife in my heart. Vanceās words at the wedding are still lodged painfully in me, and as much as I hate admitting it, they stuck. I swore I wouldnāt let him get under my skin. That heād never see me break. But then he showed me a portrait of my motherāmy dead motherāsmiling down from his walls. Iām sure she never posed for itāwell photoshopped. And then Jake. Jake in the ground. A headstone complete with a neat little epitaph.He has a sister. Sheās just sixteen. Does she know heās dead? If she does, what lie did they feed her? My chest feels tight just thinking about it.By the time weāre driving back, the weight of it allāmy nightmares, my motherās face, Jakeās graveācrushes me so hard I feel like Iāll scream. I sit in silence, fists in my lap, refusing to look at Zeke because if I do, Iāll lash out. An







