Crowned in Carnage

Elena knew the man on the gurney was not going to survive the moment the paramedics pushed him into the ER. He had two gunshot wounds to the chest and another in his lower abdomen. He had already lost too much blood before he even reached the hospital. When she checked his pupils, they reacted slowly, a sign his brain was no longer getting enough oxygen. She had seen this pattern too many times to count, and she knew that no matter what she did next, this man was already gone.

Still, she tried because saving people was her job, and she took that responsibility seriously. She called for blood and positioned herself over him, starting chest compressions while her team moved around her with the smooth coordination of people who had done this countless times. She was fourteen hours into a brutal shift and running only on bad coffee and muscle memory, but her hands stayed steady, and her focus stayed sharp as the monitors beeped around her and the resident fumbled with the intubation kit.

Her phone began buzzing in her pocket halfway through the second round of medication. She ignored it. She was quite literally trying to restart someone’s heart. But the buzzing continued again and again, until her charge nurse leaned in and quietly suggested she check it because it had been ringing nonstop for five minutes. That only happened when something was very wrong.

Elena glanced at the monitor one last time and saw the flatline she had expected from the start. She called the time of death at 11:47 PM. Then she pulled off her gloves and took out her phone. Fifteen missed calls from her father’s lawyer. Richard Castellano never called her while she was at work, and he had never called her fifteen times in a row in his life. Something catastrophic had happened.

Her hands were shaking as she hit redial. Richard answered before the first ring finished. He said her name in a strained, tight voice, like he was holding himself together by force. Elena asked what was wrong and where he was. He hesitated, then told her she needed to come to the estate immediately. She should not bring anyone, should not tell anyone, and she needed to come right now.

She asked him what had happened. Richard spoke three words that made no sense at first.

Your father is dead.

Elena stood in the hallway with blood on her scrubs and exhaustion heavy in her bones. Her mind tried to rearrange the words into something logical, but nothing fit. Her father couldn’t be dead. She had seen him last Sunday. He had been fine, laughing, healthy, alive.

Richard said her name again, his voice cracking. Elena hung up because she couldn’t speak. She walked to her attending and said she had a family emergency. He took one look at her face and told her to go. Somehow she ended up in her car and on the road, with no memory of how she got there.

The estate gates were wide open when she arrived. That was the first sign something was wrong, because those gates were never open. Elena drove through slowly. At least twenty black sedans and SUVs filled the driveway, and groups of men in expensive suits stood around talking in low voices. They all stopped and stared when she stepped out of her car. She didn’t recognize any of them, and their attention made her skin crawl.

An older man stepped forward and introduced himself as Marco Benedetti, her father’s advisor, a word she had heard before but never cared enough to understand. His hand was steady on her elbow as he led her inside. He positioned himself between her and the other men, as if he thought she might run. The entrance hall was crowded with nearly thirty more armed men who fell silent as she passed. Their faces were unreadable but full of meaning she didn’t yet understand.

Marco guided her to her father’s office on the second floor. The door was open, and she smelled the blood before she saw the body. It was the metallic scent she knew well from the ER, but she had never expected to smell it in her childhood home. Her father sat motionless in his desk chair, head tilted back, eyes open and empty. A clean bullet hole marked the center of his forehead. Another wound in his chest had soaked through his shirt and pooled darkly on the desk.

Elena stood in the doorway and felt nothing at all. The shock was too heavy. Her mind shut down every emotion and defaulted to clinical detachment. She scanned the injuries like she was assessing a patient. Small caliber rounds. No exit wounds. No sign of a struggle. An execution. Likely someone he trusted.

Her voice sounded distant as she asked who did it. Marco said they didn’t know yet. It had happened three hours earlier while her father was working late. Elena asked why she hadn’t been called sooner. Marco’s expression hardened slightly. He said they had to secure the family first. Then he told her there were things she needed to understand about her father, and about her new reality.

Elena said she knew what her father was. She had always known, even if she never said the words out loud. Marco studied her face for a long moment, then nodded like he had reached a decision. He explained that the Russo family was one of the Five Families that controlled organized crime on the East Coast. Her father had been the Don for thirty-two years. And now that he was dead, she was the only living Russo. That meant she was the Donna, whether she wanted the title or not.

The words hit her like blows. She grabbed the desk to steady herself, her hand landing in dried blood. She said it was impossible. She was a doctor. She didn’t belong in this world. Marco spoke gently, almost kindly, when he said she didn’t have a choice. The Five Families were meeting in three days to discuss her father’s territory. If she didn’t claim her seat, they would dissolve everything and divide it among themselves. And to prevent future retaliation, everyone loyal to her father would be killed.

When she asked how many people that meant, Marco said at least three hundred soldiers and their families. Three hundred lives hanging on whether she stepped into her father’s role.

Elena closed her eyes as panic rose in her chest. She asked what would happen if she took the seat. Marco said she would have to fight for it. The other families would test her and wait for her to fail. But she would have her father’s soldiers and his resources behind her.

Before she could speak, a man’s voice came from the doorway. He asked if she wanted to hear the smart option. Elena spun around. A man leaned against the frame, watching her with predatory interest. His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

She demanded to know who he was. He introduced himself as Damien Cross and walked into the office like he owned it. Marco instinctively reached for his gun, but Damien didn’t even glance at him. His full attention stayed on Elena as he offered her a deal that would guarantee her survival.

She told him she didn’t need his help. Damien said she did. The Five Families would never accept a woman with no experience running territory this valuable. They would dissolve her holdings and kill her within a week. But if she married him, their families would merge. She would gain his protection and his army. He would gain half her territory.

Elena stared at him like he was insane. He simply said he was practical. He held out his hand and told her to think about it. When she refused, he said she would change her mind when the Morettis came for her tonight.

Elena asked what he meant. Marco’s face darkened. He explained that the Morettis were the most aggressive of the Five Families. If they saw her as weak, they would strike first and fast.

Glass shattered somewhere in the house. Men shouted. Gunfire erupted, sharp and deafening. Marco grabbed Elena and pulled her down behind the desk as bullets tore through the office windows.

In that moment, Elena understood Damien had been right. The Morettis were already here. They were coming to kill her in the same room where her father had died. And there was nothing she could do to stop it.