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CALAVERA: The Mafia’s Caged Bride
CALAVERA: The Mafia’s Caged Bride
Author: Hewrite

Chapter 1

Author: Hewrite
last update Last Updated: 2025-09-08 02:21:22

~ANYA POV~

“Yaya!”

The shout cut through the bass-heavy music pounding inside CÉRRO Nightclub. I didn’t need to look up from the drink I was mixing to know it was Athena.

Only she called me that.

I glanced anyway. There she was, strutting across the bar like she owned it—blonde hair glowing under the neon lights, lips glossed to perfection, and that mischievous grin plastered across her face. The grin that meant trouble.

“No,” I said flatly, sliding the cocktail across to the waiting customer.

He didn’t take the drink right away. His eyes were too busy glued to my chest. Typical.

“Would you like anything else, sir?” I asked, forcing my voice into customer-service-sweetness.

“Yeah,” he yelled over the music, leaning way too close. “Your number.” I clenched my jaw. Great. Another drunk who thought spitting on me while shouting counted as flirting.

He wasn’t ugly—late twenties, maybe, with dirty-blonde hair and a smirk that screamed “I’ve watched Wolf of Wall Street too many times.” But still. Not my type.

“You know…” he dragged out the words, breath smelling like cheap whiskey, “I could take you outta here. No more slinging drinks. No more shitty customers. Just me. You. Shiny things.”

I almost laughed. His order was the cheapest drink on the menu. Shiny things? The only shiny thing he could probably afford was a discount keychain from the gift shop across the street.

Behind me, Athena was trying not to burst into giggles. My annoyance must’ve been written all over my face.

“Why so quiet, baby girl?” he asked, raising his brows like he’d just dropped the line of the century.

I gave him the fakest smile in my arsenal. “Not interested. Thank you.”

Then I spun on my heel and walked away before he could argue. Rule number one of bartending: never let them think they’re winning.

Athena was waiting, leaning against the counter with a piece of paper in her hand. She fluttered her lashes at me.

“What now?” I asked, wiping down the sticky counter with a rag.

She slapped the paper against my chest. “Another love note. From Mr. Tall, Dark, and Probably Toxic.”

I sighed. “How many times do I have to tell you? You’re my best friend, not my girlfriend.”

She gasped dramatically, clutching her heart. “Tragic. Rejected again.” Then she tossed her blonde hair and sauntered off like the stage queen she was.

I shook my head, grabbed the next set of orders, and let my hands do the work. Mojito. Sidecar. Californication. Quick, smooth, automatic. Bartending was muscle memory now.

When I pushed the tray back to Athena, she shoved it right back.

“Not me. I need the ladies’ room. Or maybe the men’s.” She winked, then disappeared into the crowd, leaving me stuck with delivery duty.

“Of course you do,” I muttered.

***********************

“Mattie, cover me for two minutes,” I told our co-worker, balancing the tray.

“What’s in it for me, sweet cheeks?” Mattie smirked, adjusting his perfectly tailored vest. He was hot enough to make the straight girls swoon and just gay enough to never let them forget it.

I winked badly. “A back-alley makeout.”

He recoiled, fanning himself dramatically. “As if. Standards, babe.”

“Fine, fine,” I laughed, weaving into the crowd with the tray.

The drinks were for a table shoved into the corner—teenagers, barely legal, all pretending they weren’t. I dropped the tray onto the sticky surface, plastered on my fake smile, and bailed before one of them tried to ask if I knew where to score pills.

“Fuck my life,” I muttered under my breath, heading back to the bar.

Here’s the thing: I really do love my job. Loud music, flashing lights, endless chaos—London nightlife is its own beast, and I thrive in it. Wild. Free. Untouchable.

That’s me.

But sometimes….just sometimes….the loneliness hit. Being thousands of miles away from Mijas, from family, from the warm sun and sea breeze… it stung in the quiet moments.

Not that there were many quiet moments at CÉRRO.

At least I had Athena. She wasn’t just my co-worker. She was my childhood best friend, my roommate, my partner in crime. Tall, legs for days, and curves that made men trip over themselves. Compared to her, I was the shorter, curvier, redheaded best friend with a resting-bitch-face.

But hey…..I had my looks. I knew I was beautiful. I didn’t need anyone else to tell me that.

“Yaya!” Athena’s voice yanked me out of my little daydream again. She snapped her fingers in my face.

“Hello? Earth to main character?”

I blinked. “Sorry. Zoned out.”

She rolled her eyes, then leaned closer like she was about to spill a secret. Before she could, Mattie’s voice cut through: “Closing time countdown, babies. Two more hours!”

Two more hours. I could make it. Then home, bed, peace.

Still…

Abuela’s old words echoed in my head: “Cuando el alma se inquieta, algo viene detrás.” (When the soul feels restless, something is on its way.)

And tonight? My soul was restless.

I just didn’t know why.

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  • CALAVERA: The Mafia’s Caged Bride    092

    ~ANYA POV~The word pregnant is a suffocating weight.It pushes down on my chest, freezing the air in my lungs. I shake my head...once, twice...a hopeless, useless attempt to dislodge the sound, to deny the reality he just set on me.The movement makes the room tilt, a sudden, fierce wave of dizziness hitting me instantly, making the cream-colored walls swim.No. It's impossible. He's lying. It's a trick to make me stay.But I cannot shake the triumphant, cold certainty in César's blue eyes. That gaze is focused entirely on me, holding me captive in this new, terrifying truth. He is not just telling me a fact; he is asserting a final, total victory.He moves. Slowly, deliberately, as if giving me time to panic before he asserts control again.I flinch violently, shrinking further into the pillows, a desperate physical reaction to the memory of the dark, filthy room. Every movement he makes now, after the cruelty of the cellar and the knife, feels like the opening to pain.He ignores t

  • CALAVERA: The Mafia’s Caged Bride    091

    ~ANYA POV~A sudden, harsh pain in my chest drags me up from the crushing darkness.I gasp, my lungs seizing as they try to remember how to take in air. I open my eyes and am hit by a bright light that hurts. I have to squint and turn away from the strong light of the chandelier above me.It's blinding. It's white. It's alive.After what felt like a lifetime spent in the gloomy emptiness of unconsciousness, this overwhelming brightness is a shock to my entire system. It's too much. It's loud. The light is so bright it feels heavy on my eyelids.Slowly, carefully, I make my eyes get used to the bright light so I can see shapes. It takes a long, agonizing time. Eventually, I realize I'm not in a hospital. I am in a room. A clean room. A wide, luxurious room with gold trimmings and cream walls.The Master Bedroom.A scent drifts to my nose, quick and familiar, cutting through the clean air of the space. It isn't the metal taste of blood anymore. It's sandalwood. Cedar. It's César's colog

  • CALAVERA: The Mafia’s Caged Bride    090

    ~CÉSAR POV~The smell hits me before I even cross the threshold of the bathroom.It isn't the scent of lavender bath salts. It isn't the vanilla shampoo I bought for her. It is a scent I know better than my own name. It is the scent of iron. Of wet pennies. Of life leaking out into the open air.Blood.My heart gives a single, violent kick against my ribs...a feeling I haven't felt in years. It is a warning—a siren screaming in the back of my skull."Anya!"I roar her name, the sound tearing from my throat raw and furious. I step into the bathroom, and my world stops.The scene before me is a masterpiece of tragedy. The white marble floor, usually so spotless, is slick with crimson. It pools around her like a halo, soaking into the cream silk of her nightgown, turning it a deep, heavy red.She is slumped against the vanity cabinet, her head lolled back, her eyes half-open but seeing nothing. Her face is the color of ash.And on the floor, gleaming in a pool of her own blood, is my str

  • CALAVERA: The Mafia’s Caged Bride    089

    ~ANYA POV~I jolt awake.I don't remember falling asleep. One second, I was sitting on the window seat, whispering promises to the empty air, and the next, I was drowning in a black, suffocating slumber.I gasp, sitting up violently in the center of the massive bed. My heart is beating a desperate, broken beat against my ribs, loud enough to echo in the silent room. I am disoriented. For a heartbeat, my brain expects the damp cold of the dungeon. It expects the scurrying sound of rats and the smell of bleach.But the air here is cool and scented with lavender. The sheets tangled around my legs are made of Egyptian cotton, smooth as water.I am in the tower. I am in the gilded cage.Breathe, Anya. Breathe.I try to calm the roaring chaos in my chest, but my mind is a racetrack, accelerating with every second. The silence of this beautiful, expensive room screams at me louder than the darkness ever did.I can think clearly now. The fog of exhaustion and fever has lifted enough for me to

  • CALAVERA: The Mafia’s Caged Bride    088

    ~ANYA POV~The door clicks shut behind him.The sound isn't a slam, but it hits me in the chest just as hard. For a moment, I don't move. I sit frozen in the center of the massive bed, clutching the silk sheets like I'm holding onto a lifeline.My stomach, finally full of food, suddenly twists and squeezes. Bile rises up my throat, threatening to bring the eggs right back up.I wipe my face, surprised to find tears there. They feel hot on my skin.Why is he doing this?My whole body still remembers the way he held me just minutes ago. I keep replaying how he looked at me while I ate...the way his eyes stayed glued to my mouth, my throat... like each swallow belonged to him.I don't know why that thought terrifies me more than the starvation in the dungeon. Down there, I was a prisoner. Up here... I am a pet.I slide off the bed. My legs are still shaky, but the soft carpet cushions my feet. I walk toward the door, intending to check if he really left it unlocked like he promised.But

  • CALAVERA: The Mafia’s Caged Bride    087

    ~CÉSAR POV~"I'm here," she whispers against my chest.Her voice is soft. Defeated. It is the sound of a wild thing that has finally realized the cage is stronger than its claws.I hold her there, my chin resting on the top of her head. She smells of vanilla and sandalwood...the shampoo I bought for her. She feels warm, her body molding against mine through the thin silk of the nightgown. It is a domestic scene. A husband holding his wife. A lover holding his beloved.But as I stroke her hair, untangling a small knot near the nape of her neck, my mind is not here in this warm, golden-lit bedroom.It is back in the dark.I close my eyes, and I am back in the basement two days ago.I can still see her. My little Siren, curled on the cold concrete floor, her thin arms wrapped around herself, her whole body shaking like something small caught in a storm. I remember the moment I stepped inside that cell. Her face had lifted, smeared with dirt and tears, and the sound that tore out of her c

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