CHAPTER 01 — THE GIRL

Heros Green

New York, Todt Hill — 3 days later

The air inside the office was dense, almost palpable. The scent of aged whiskey mingled with the aged leather of the furniture and the residual smoke of Cuban cigars that still lingered in the environment. I found myself seated behind the imposing dark mahogany desk, the same place my father had occupied for decades with an iron fist. Now it was mine. Capo di tutti capi of the 'Ndrangheta on the American East Coast. I'm thirty-four years old, and the weight of the entire empire is on my shoulders.

For the first time in a long time, I was seriously questioning one of my decisions.

We discovered her name when we searched her backpack, cellphone, and documents with clinical care: Liora Elena Voss. Eighteen years old, freshly turned. An ordinary Russian girl who made the fatal mistake of turning down the wrong alley at the wrong time. And, try as I might, I couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling that bringing her into our home had been a grave mistake.

Especially because of Alicia.

Liora could easily be seen by Luther as a second chance, an opportunity for reparation for the mistakes of the past. A light at the end of the dark tunnel he inhabited. But I knew my brother like no one else. I knew exactly how the darkness inside him operated. What he saw as salvation, I saw as gasoline being poured over still-warm embers.

I still remember, with painful clarity, what remained of Luther after Alicia was murdered. The boy I had protected since childhood simply disappeared. In his place emerged a broken man, unpredictable and dangerous. His actions began to threaten not only himself but also the entire structure we had built with so much blood. His killings ceased to be clean, strategic, and silent. They became spectacles of uncontrolled carnage.

Zedekiah was sadistic by nature—cold, precise, almost artistic in his cruelty. But Luther... Luther was becoming something far more dangerous. A predator without limits and without brakes. He went out in the dead of night after women who merely reminded him of Amanda, Alicia's best friend. He hunted them like animals. Tortured. Dismembered. I was the only one who showed up afterward to clean up the mess, erase traces, and silence any inconvenient witnesses. The images still woke me up in the middle of the night, sweating and cold.

This wasn't the 'Ndrangheta. We had a code. Rules. Clear limits. My brother was crossing all of them, transforming himself into an existential risk for the entire family.

My father would never tolerate this kind of mess. He always demanded cold efficiency and quick and justified deaths. I am the only one who knows the real extent of the horrors Luther has committed. If he found out, there would be no conversation, no mercy. The sentence would be immediate and definitive. And I swore, a long time ago, to protect my brothers—even when they themselves became the greatest danger of all.

The air in the office seemed thick enough to be cut with a blade. Luther paced back and forth like a caged wolf, heavy footsteps echoing on the Persian carpet. His eyes had that feverish, restless gleam that I had learned to fear over the years. Liora's presence here—with her delicate features, light brown hair that fell in soft waves, and that almost ethereal appearance of innocence that so reminded them of Alicia—was a trigger far too dangerous.

Having her in the house worried me deeply. An emotional weakness like this, fed by toxic memories, could cost dearly. Very dearly. A distraction like this was a luxury that men like us simply could not afford.

The door opened with a soft click. Zedekiah entered first, followed by Noah and Lohan. Without saying a word, Zedekiah threw a black folder onto the desk.

"And so?" I asked, direct, without wasting time with formalities. "What did you find?"

Zedekiah answered with his usual military precision:

"Liora Elena Voss. Eighteen years old. Born in Moscow. Only daughter of Mackenzie Ekaterina Voss. Literature student, no criminal record, no history of involvement with any organization. The mother works at a simple diner in Brooklyn and lives alone. Nothing indicates connection with the Bratva."

Luther stopped pacing abruptly. His eyes fixed on the folder as if he could devour it with his gaze.

"Eighteen..." he murmured, almost savoring the information.

"We already know the basics," I cut in, impatient. "I want more. Weaknesses. Fears. Personal secrets. Anything we can use against her, if necessary."

While Zedekiah detailed the rest of the information—daily routines, contacts, and possible emotional vulnerabilities—my mind kept spinning nonstop. Liora wasn't just an inconvenient witness. There was something about her that disturbed me deeply. An ethereal beauty, a spark of fire in her eyes that contrasted with the obvious fear. She was fragile and, at the same time, seemed to carry a silent and stubborn strength. Her presence in this house was a time bomb of our own making.

"Keep the mother under twenty-four-hour surveillance," I ordered, leaning back in the chair. "If she starts asking questions, suspecting her daughter's disappearance or trying to involve the police... be persuasive. I don't want unnecessary risks."

The silence that settled in the room was heavy. My brothers watched me with attention. They knew that, when I used that tone, the decision was already made.

I stood up slowly and walked to the panoramic window that gave a view of the dark gardens of the mansion. In the basement, three floors below, Liora waited. Probably scared, confused, exhausted. But something told me, with instinctive certainty, that she wasn't as fragile as she appeared.

"Let's go down," I announced, turning to them. "I want to test her character. See what she's really made of. Then, we'll present the Law of Brotherhood. If she accepts the deal, Liora Voss becomes ours: protected, cared for, and possessed. If she refuses... we'll deal with the consequences however necessary."

Luther smiled sideways, a smile loaded with shadows and dark expectation. Noah remained thoughtful, always the most balanced among us. Lohan spun a knife between his fingers with casual skill. Zedekiah kept his expression cold, but his eyes betrayed a predatory interest.

As we descended the narrow stairs that led to the basement, the air became progressively colder and damper. My body reacted to the anticipation with familiar adrenaline. I could still feel, with disturbing clarity, the exact moment in the alley when I held her against me—the trembling of her body pressed to mine, the sweet scent of fear mixed with something deeper, more primitive.

Liora Voss was no longer just an inconvenient witness.

She was the beginning of something I still couldn't fully name.

And, whether she wanted to or not, her life would never be the same.