Blood Vows with the Mafia Boss

The rain hammered against the window i’m just here sitting, each drop tapping out a steady rhythm that mirrored the frantic beat of my heart. I stood there, staring at the darkened skyline of Chicago, the city lights barely piercing through the storm. My mind wasn't on the view though. It hadn't been for a long time. Luca. My brother. The one person who always had my back, always protected me from the mess our father had left behind. Now, he was gone, and I had no idea where he was. Two weeks. Two weeks since I'd last heard from him, since he'd disappeared without a trace. The police hadn't been much help. Just a few vague leads that went nowhere, a lot of questions left unanswered. They said it was just another missing persons case, but I knew better. Luca hadn't just gone off somewhere. He'd been taken. The photo on the table caught my eye. It was of Luca and me, taken during a summer we'd spent together when things had still felt normal. I reached out and traced the edges of t

The drive back from Mr. Caruso's office was a blur. It’s been rainy these week and as the raindrops streaked across the tinted windows, matching the chaos that stormed in my mind. Caruso's threats, the suffocating tension in that room, Dante's shadow hanging over every word. I couldn't escape it. I had done what Dante asked. I had sat there, smiled politely, played the loyal secretary while Caruso tried to intimidate me. And I had smiled through it. But now? Now, I wasn't sure if I was becoming brave or just numb. Is this who I'm becoming? Someone who smiles at wolves and pretends she's not bleeding? The sleek black car rolled to a stop in front of the Moretti estate. The gates opened slowly, like jaws parting to swallow me whole. Towering stone pillars framed the iron gates, carved with symbols I didn't understand but knew were meant to keep people like me in check. The kind of symbols that whispered like “You don't belong here unless you're owned.” The car doors clicked open. T

The door of the car slammed shut behind me with a soft finality, the sound echoing in the quiet night. The hum of the engine was a steady rhythm beneath me, but it couldn’t settle the whirlwind inside my chest. The city outside was a blur of lights, but I stayed still, trying to ground myself in the moment.I had done it. I’d struck a deal with Caruso. I’d held my ground. And yet, even now, my heart was still racing from the confrontation on the rooftop.I’d stood my ground. But why did it feel like my legs were made of glass now?I gripped the edge of the seat harder than I meant to, the leather cold beneath my fingers. My thoughts were tangled, and the silence between Dante and me only made everything feel sharper. His presence pressed against me, even in the stillness of the car.I didn’t look at him. Not yet. Because I knew if I did, I’d give away how much that encounter with Caruso had rattled me. I didn’t need him to see that.“You didn’t tell me you knew how to strike a deal.”

I scanned the room, my heart tightening every time I thought about that waiter. Something about him wasn't right.He'd seemed too calm. Too rehearsed. Like he was hiding something bad.I turned slowly, pretending to watch the violinist, but my gaze drifted toward the far side of the ballroom, where a dim hallway opened just beyond the buffet tables. My breath caught when I spotted him.Damien.He stood at the end of the hallway, his dark eyes locked on me. Those eyes... they were cold, like a siren's warning.I squinted, trying to make sure it was really him. His slow nod told me he wanted to say something.What does he want?I forced myself to stay calm and turned back to Dante.I looked at his eyes. "Excuse me," I said, managing a small smile. "I need to use the restroom."Dante's eyes narrowed. "It's too dangerous, I know you saw that," he warned quietly with a worried look.I can't stay here. "I really need to," I said firmly.He hesitated, then nodded. "I'll send some guard to fo

The zipper hissed as Dante dragged the old duffel bag open. I stood by the edge of the table, rolling gauze and shoving it into a pouch with trembling fingers. We hadn't spoken much since we decided to leave. There wasn't anything left to say, just the sound of a plan falling into place, piece by piece.Inside the bag were things I didn't recognize by brand, but did by instinct, guns, ammo clips, burner phones, vests that looked far too used.Dante grabbed one and walked over to me. He didn't ask. Just lifted it up and started to strap me in.His fingers brushed my shoulder as he adjusted the strap. Rough hands. Strong. But careful, almost like he didn't trust himself to press too hard. His face was unreadable, but close. Too close.I didn't move. Didn't speak.There was something... intimate about the way he handled the vest. Like he'd done it before. For someone else.Someone who trusted him without question.Someone who probably didn't end up in a situation like this.He stepped ba