Chapter 2

Seven years ago, Vincent wasn't the Don yet.

He was the illegitimate son no one wanted to claim.

I found him one bitter winter night, half-dead in a dead-end alley.

His enemies had hunted him down and left him there with two stab wounds to the stomach. He was lying beside a dumpster, barely breathing.

I was going to walk right past him. People died in Brooklyn alleys every day. Besides, I could barely keep my sister and myself fed. I had no room in my life to worry about some gangster.

But he grabbed my ankle.

He'd lost so much blood he could barely move, but he never begged me to save him.

He just looked at me. I knew that look. It was the look of someone desperate to stay alive.

I'd worn the same look every time I begged the clinic to treat my younger sister, Maya Hart, even though I couldn't afford her treatment. Every time, they threw me back out onto the street.

I knew helping Vincent would only bring me trouble. But when I saw his trembling hand pressed against his wound, I couldn't leave him there. So I bent down and dragged him home.

After that, it was just the two of us.

We hid in a basement in the Bronx and survived on moldy bread. I'd tear off the moldy parts and give him whatever was left. At night, he'd wrap our only blanket around me.

Then one day, during a negotiation, someone on the other side suddenly pulled a gun.

I threw myself in front of Vincent. The bullet tore through my left shoulder.

We barely made it back to the basement apartment that night.

Vincent heated a knife over a lighter until the blade glowed red, then used it to dig the bullet out of my shoulder. His hands never shook when he held a gun. But that night, as he pressed gauze against my wound, his hands wouldn't stop trembling.

"Don't take a bullet for me again." He pulled me into his arms.

"I won't let you die." I looked up at him. "If you die, I'll have nothing left."

He lowered his head and kissed the wound on my shoulder. Then he kissed me, and soon all I could taste was blood.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a silver ring, and slipped it onto my left ring finger.

"When I take control of the whole family, I'll marry you in the biggest church in New York."

He stroked my hair.

"Selina... listen to me. One day we'll kiss at the top of the world."

I believed him.

Back then, I even thought I'd be happy spending the rest of my life hiding in that basement, as long as we survived together.

I thought he felt the same. I thought I was all he had, just as he was all I had.

So I cleared every obstacle from his path. I stopped assassination attempts and took out the elders who stood against him, one by one.

For seven years, I left countless bodies behind to make Vincent Don.

Only later did I realize how stupid I'd been.

Once Vincent had secured his position as Don, no amount of power was enough for him.

To take control of the entire West Side, he needed a powerful ally.

The Marino family was exactly what he needed.

One rainy night, I came back from taking out the head of a Mexican gang.

The job had gone wrong. They'd been waiting for me, and I'd spent half an hour fighting my way out of an abandoned warehouse.

Several bullets had grazed me, and a deep cut ran down my right arm.

My leather jacket was soaked with blood by the time I dragged myself back to the safe house.

Out of habit, I reached for the first-aid kit on the cabinet.

Then I saw the invitation lying on the living room table. Thick paper. Gold trim. Expensive.

Vincent Moretti. Bianca Marino. Their names were printed side by side.

I stood there staring at their names as blood dripped from my arm onto the floor.

Seven years of killing for him. And all I got in return was a wedding invitation.

The door opened.

Vincent walked in wearing a tailored suit, the faint scent of cigars clinging to him.

He saw me standing by the table. Without saying a word, he took off his jacket, hung it over a chair, and came up behind me. His arms slipped around my waist like they always did.

He brought over a warm towel and gently wiped the blood from my face.

Then he kissed the spot just below my ear.

"Selina. My little mad dog. You're exhausted."

His lips moved down my neck.

"Your scars break my heart. I don't want you risking your life like this anymore."

I kept staring at the invitation.

"But... you're marrying her?" I turned to look at him.

"No... it's not what you think. Bianca is only there for appearances."

His arms tightened around me, as if he were afraid I'd leave.

"She can keep those dinosaurs in line for me. All she'll ever have is a meaningless title and a few fake smiles at dinner parties."

When I still said nothing, Vincent turned me around to face him.

"Sweetheart, don't you know? Only you deserve me. Only you deserve my entire underground kingdom." He sounded almost moved by his own words. His hand came up to stroke my cheek, just like it always had. "Stay by my side. Everything is the same. I'll keep you safely hidden. No one will be able to hurt you."

I stared at him.

Keep me hidden?

For the first time, I realized how ridiculous I'd been.

He was betraying me right to my face and somehow making it sound like he had done nothing wrong. The thought made me sick.

I turned away and slipped the silver ring I'd worn for seven years off my finger.

I tossed it onto the table beside the wedding invitation. It landed with a soft clink.

"But what you're offering is dirty. I want something clean. You've always known that. Vincent, you knew this would hurt me."

I pushed him away.

"If you can't give me that, then let's end it."

Vincent's expression changed.

He'd never expected me to leave. As far as he was concerned, I would never say no to him.

"Selina! Walk out that door and there won't be anywhere for you in New York! I'll take back everything I gave you!" His voice thundered behind me. "Your car, your guns, the men under your command. I gave you all of it! You don't know how to do anything but kill! Where do you think you can go?"

I stopped with my back to him.

He'd say anything to keep me under his thumb.

Everything he had today had been bought with my blood, yet he still believed he'd given me everything I had.

He said killing was all I knew how to do.

Seven years of taking bullets for him. Seven years of killing for him.

I'd thought he might at least feel guilty.

That was when I finally understood. To Vincent, I was still just his dog. And whenever he wanted, he could take away the bone he'd given me.

I swallowed back the pain crushing my chest, along with the last shred of love I had for him.

"You can try."

I opened the door and walked straight into the pouring rain.

That was the day I became a cleaner.