No More Being the Extra One

By the time I got back to the Carone estate, night had already fallen.

The three of them were lounging on the dark leather sofas in the living room, gathered around the fireplace with chilled bourbon in hand and cut cigars resting on the rim of crystal ashtrays. Their eyes were fixed on the screen, where some classic mafia film was playing.

Seraphina turned her head at the sound of my footsteps crossing the foyer. A smug grin tugged at her lips as she shot a look at the two men beside her.

"Told you Leah would find her way back before seven."

"You two lost. That means next month's patrol schedule is all mine to call the shots."

"Besides, both of you already wrapped up your Sicily and New York reports. A few extra days away from your territories won't kill you."

Gabriel shook his head, swirling the ice in his glass. The cubes clinked sharply against the crystal.

"Leah—you sure you didn't team up with Seraphina behind our backs? Last time in Lower Manhattan, it took you four hours to get out. This time you made it back to the safe zone in under two."

Gabriel was the "brother" I'd picked up off the streets as a kid—pulled him out of a bloodbath.

He was eight when his parents got caught in gang crossfire. Rival families came after him, and no one on the block dared take in a stray mutt like him.

Me? I'd grown up in this cold fortress of a mafia house. All I ever wanted was a brother who shared the same black blood running through my veins.

After begging my father over and over, I brought him back to the Carone estate.

My father had his hand on his pistol grip and gave me a low warning:

"Leah, a wolf picked up off the street will never be tame."

Little Gabriel dropped to one knee right there. He took my hand and swore on the Carone family's Madonna statue—that he'd be my most loyal knight for life.

That was the only reason my father let him stay. And eventually, he became one of the candidates for godfather succession.

Now? He's Seraphina's most obedient guard dog.

"Yeah, Leah, come clean. Did Seraphina plant markers for you along the way?"

That was Lucas.

The only son of a senior Carone capo. My childhood friend. And another serious contender for the Don's seat.

When we were kids, our fathers sat in clouds of cigar smoke, sipping brandy, and joked about an arranged marriage—promised that once we came of age, we'd run all of New York's underworld together. Lucas took it seriously.

Knowing I had zero talent for counter-surveillance, he'd plant his men in the shadows ever since we were young, escorting me safely from private school back to the old estate.

Before Seraphina came into the picture, from age ten to seventeen, we walked countless dangerous alleys side by side.

He once put his hand over mine, curled my fingers around a tactical pistol's trigger, and promised me:

"As long as I'm here, on this ground of New York—no matter where you go—I'll bring you home safe."

But later, when danger really hit, he was also the one who left me behind alone.

"Knew you two couldn't take a loss."

Seraphina smirked, slapping my encrypted phone onto the champagne-gold coffee table.

"Just so you can't cry foul—I confiscated all of Leah's comms beforehand. Now you've got no excuse, right?"

Gabriel's smile faltered. His eyes went cold.

"You should've run that by me first. Cutting off her contact—that's too much risk."

Lucas's face darkened too. His long fingers tightened around his glass.

"What if a rival crew or the feds cornered her? We wouldn't even get a distress signal."

Seraphina shrugged, blinking in exaggerated surprise.

"What's with you two? I thought we all agreed to train Leah's survival instincts."

Gabriel was quiet for a beat. Then he patted Seraphina's shoulder and finally spoke:

"Forget it. Leah made it back on time, so let's drop it. Seraphina—next time, don't take her gear without permission."

Lucas set down his glass and walked over to me.

He tilted his head down, scanning me with those gun-calloused hands—checking for scrapes, for signs of an ambush. When he found nothing, he let out a quiet breath.

"Seraphina was thinking about the family's bigger picture. She just wants you to adapt to how things work here. Don't be too hard on her."

"There's caviar and champagne in the kitchen. I'll go grab it for you."

"No need."

I stepped around him, picked up my phone from the table, and turned toward the staircase leading to the second floor.

"I'm tired. I need to go rest."

Seraphina froze. She turned to Gabriel with wide, glassy eyes:

"Is Leah mad at me?"

She fidgeted nervously.

"Maybe I should head back to my downtown apartment tonight. She probably doesn't want to see me right now."

Lucas stepped forward immediately, grabbing his suit jacket off the hook by the door.

"It's late. Streets out there aren't safe. I'll drive you."

"I'm coming too."

Gabriel already had his car keys out, moving to follow.

Lucas caught him by the shoulder and shoved him back inside.

"Come on. My turf runs right past downtown anyway—convenient for me to take her. You stay here and hold down the estate. No need for the extra trip."

Gabriel let out a cold laugh.

"That's a weak lie, Lucas. Your district's the other way—toward Atlantic City. How the hell is that on your way?"

How ridiculous.

The two most powerful candidates for the Carone family's future throne, going at each other like a shootout—fighting over who gets to take another woman home.

And not one of them asked me—

A girl with zero comms, dumped at a gang crossroads, with a sense of direction so bad it's a running joke.

How the hell I actually made it out of that chaos.