The Monster's Nemesis

LILLIANA

Everyone on this face of the earth is born with a purpose—some greater aim or ambition, or what some people liked to say—a dream.

I, Lilliana Moretti, was bred for revenge. A vengeance that ran so deep in my veins that it became my identity now. I lived, breathed, and existed for retribution.

The downfall of the Romanos.

The rivalry between the Crime Families in this Windy City, Chicago, was like bedtime stories for the children. We were so used to the blood that it hardly bothered anyone anymore. It was the city of chaos, blood, and madness. No one cared to bat an eyelid whenever shit got real.

Maybe my family—the Moretti family—did the same until the war was brought to our doorstep, leaving a trail of dead people, including our own blood.

The Romano Family was the most powerful Crime Family ruling the city then and still now. Every family, every boss, and every man—whoever went against them was taken down so mercilessly that even the Gods questioned the sanity of these men—Alessandro and his sons, Viktor and Dominic. Vice ran in their veins like warm blood.

A generation ago, my father, Dante Moretti, made the very mistake of overthrowing the then-boss, Alessandro Romano, and the war had cost us everything. My father was brought to his knees and fled from the city.

That very day, Moretti vowed vengeance. And my destiny was sealed even before I drew my first breath.

I was to be the pawn in this game of vengeance, bloodbath, and retaliation.

Sheltered and secluded since my birth, I never existed on any document—like a ghost, I had no identity or existence. I was homeschooled, tutored, and trained for twenty-one years for the one and only purpose—for vengeance.

To avenge my blood.

“So this is...her?” I looked up and arched a brow at my father sitting in front of me with an expensive bloody cigar on his lips.

The photo was of a girl, barely eighteen years old, who was abducted, raped, and abused by the Vittelo, another crime family, who extensively dealt with illegal prostitution and human trafficking.

“What’s her name?” I asked, going through some of her degrading pictures from what looked like a brothel.

“Amelia Parker,” the man standing beside my father answered. “She was given to Antonio before Viktor took her away.” Viktor Romano—they called him the ‘devil incarnate’—was now the Boss of the Romano family and the bona fide mafia of the God-forsaken city, Chicago. Surely the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

If I had to map out the criminal activities of Viktor Romano or his family so far, stealing a slave girl would be at the bottom of the list of his transgressions.

“And here I thought Romano men didn’t prefer slave girls,” I mumbled. The Romanos never dealt in human trafficking. But that doesn’t mean they were saints. Their empire was built on countless dead bodies. They have had enough blood on their hands to earn a one-way ticket to hell anyway.

Drugs, illegal weapons, racketeering, and every other organized crime were their arena. But the one thing that set them apart from others was—power. It wasn’t filthy money or influential connections that made them rule the city for almost three generations now. It was power—raw, untamed power. And with every generation, they redefined the meaning of power with a new flair of brutality. Every club, underground fighting ring, and black market was under their thumbs. And so was this city.

They knew they could not have been outnumbered or crushed so easily. Yet.

But they also forgot one universal rule that history taught us... every reign, every empire, every greatness came to an end. Nothing lasts forever. And Romanos weren’t Gods to rewrite history.

Growing up, there was only one fucking name drilled inside my head—ROMANO. And by the name of everything holy...what I wouldn’t do to watch them go down... and to make them watch their legacy fade into the dust.

"They don't, actually," my father said with a sly smirk on his face. "Viktor is very protective of her."

I snorted and went back to flip through some more details. Men like Viktor didn’t have ‘feelings or emotions’ to be protective of any woman, let alone a girl that was damaged.

“Years I have waited for this, Lilliana,” my father, Dante Moretti, said. “And finally I could see it happening.”

“The plan would backfire,” I simply stated, leaning comfortably against the couch.

Killing Viktor’s girl, if he was at all serious about her? It wasn’t a plan; it was a death wish, and I had no intention of dying at all. Going after your enemies’ weakness was a classic move Viktor Romano would see from afar, and I would be dead even before I took the step for my course of action.

“NO, it won’t!” he almost spat out in frustration. “Let them know what happens when you lose someone—when you lose everything!"

Old man, I snickered. I glanced at the man sitting beside my father. “Leave us.”

When the door finally closed, I sat up straight facing my father. “You want their heads on a stick? I will get them for you. But I will do this my way, Dante. I have spent my whole life preparing myself to be up against them, studied every little detail your useless men provided. So give me some credit here. I already have a plan, and I will execute it the way I WANT.”

“And what is this plan of yours?” he gritted out.

“You are making the same mistake every one of their enemies did and lost. They cannot be outnumbered or attacked. The walls are too damn strong. You need to crack them first before tearing them apart.” I paused and pulled out my phone, handing it to him. “Do you know Vittelos are going against Romanos?”

Dante frowned for a moment, taking in all the information. “Where did you get this information?”

I smirked. “Apparently, Vittelos have pathetic firewalls. Whatever information they had against Romanos, I stole it. But I also took certain information on Vittelos as well. I need to use them badly.”

He passed me the phone. “What is your plan exactly, Lilliana?”

“Dominic. Dominic Romano is my plan.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and then the same disgusted look returned once again. "What about that fucker?"

“I need to get inside the Romano mansion. And Dominic Romano is my entry card.”

He stared at me for a brief moment and then burst out laughing. It wasn't humor; it was a bloody mockery, and I hated it.

“You...you...really think it’s going to be that easy? Even if you manage to spread your legs for him, entering that fortress would never be easy for you.”

At that moment, anger got the better of me. "Then you find yourself someone else to have your revenge, old man, and you can fuck your way to the grave because I am not entering a war zone with the Romanos with half-assed preparation.”

SLAP!

My father’s backhanded slap collided so fast that it took me a moment to realize what had just happened. And when I did, my fingers slowly reached out to touch the corner of my bleeding lips.

His eyes burned blue in anger. “You may be a Moretti, but before that, I am your GODDAMN FATHER! And no one in this family would speak to me in this tone!” he bellowed.

Despite the man sitting before me claiming to be my father, he was nothing that a father should be. He was as broken and damaged as I was.

I snickered and then spoke slowly, “If you have to scream at my face that you’re my goddamn father, you are no father! But that’s okay. Right now, I don’t need one. I need the man with a bloody connection to pull off the plan I have been making for the past five years. So you can patronize me later. Help me get the weapons of Vittelo to stage an attack on Dominic.”

Biting back his residual anger, he said, “Killing Dominic Romano isn’t that easy, even if you use the weapons of Vittelo and make it look like they killed him.”

“I don’t want to kill him. In fact, I need him alive and well. He is the one who’s going to dig the grave for the Romanos so that I can put all of them—one by one—six feet under.”

My father took one last puff of the cigar and crushed it before looking at me in distaste. “I will make the arrangements and send someone to get you back in Chicago.”

“I don’t need someone—I already have someone. Andrew. He has already gathered all the intel for me. I will leave for Chicago in two days,” I informed him.

Andrew had been with me as long as I could remember. He was my nanny’s son and the only human being who kind of cared to acknowledge I existed on the face of the earth. To the rest of the world, even to my blood relations—I was just a weapon to be used against Romano for something they did twenty-two years ago.

“Suit yourself.” He got up and left as I walked over to the kitchen.

Grabbing myself a beer from the fridge, I sat down with the files containing the latest information on Romanos. Viktor’s girl looked meek and docile, and I wondered what exactly he saw in her. He had both the looks and money to have any woman in his bed, so why would he go to the length of abducting a slave girl and taking her to his mansion?

Turning the page, I saw Dominic Romano’s picture, who pretty much inherited the same blue eyes and dark brown hair from all the male members of this family. It was as if all of them were manufactured in the same factory or something. The only disgusting thing was to watch him smugly smile at the fact that he was sinfully good-looking. Women swarmed around him like bees around a honeycomb, offering themselves as if he was some fucking God to be appeased.

“How’s the meeting with your daddy dearest?” I looked up to see Andrew walking in and sitting down comfortably beside me on the couch.

“Talk about anything but that,” I muttered in disgust, skimming through the information again.

“The way you’re going through Dominic’s files for the past few months, I have a feeling you are obsessed with him by now. Although I wouldn’t judge—the man is good-looking as fuck.”

I looked up straight ahead, closed the file, and smacked his face with it.

“HEY!”

This time I turned to look at him, snickering. “How about you drop your pants and offer him your ass if you are so smitten?”

Andrew shrugged, grinning like a boy. “I would have, but unfortunately he doesn’t do men—”

“—like you,” I completed the sentence for him and handed him the beer bottle.

“Exactly. So you have to offer your pussy, although looking at his face, it wouldn’t seem so hard.”

I took the bottle from his hand and took a swig. “This guy doesn’t have a bloody type. He practically slept with every woman willing to spread her legs for him. Even if I manage to seduce him, he would probably get bored after a fuck or two. That won’t give me enough window to get close or into his fortress.”

"You'd play the perfect angel to save his life after a massive gunfight. Your cover would be of a journalism student, part-time waitress, orphan, and poor," he narrated the plan we had already formulated beforehand. “Did Mr. Moretti agree to the Vittelos’ weapons?”

I snorted at the way he acknowledged my father like he was still some mafia leader.

“When has Dante ever agreed to any of my demands? He said arrangements. If that doesn’t work, we’d have to work on Plan B.”

His face turned apprehensive for a second. “Entering their mansion is like walking into the devil’s lair. No man has ever lived who decided to go against the Romano Empire. They’re merciless to their enemies.”

“No man, I know,” I echoed and nodded slowly. “I am not a man, and I am not going to make the same mistake that others did. It’s about time they realize what eye for an eye means.” I shook my head and spoke slowly. “They have to pay. I will make them pay. Romanos played Gods for a long time now. It’s about time they see what hell looks like.”

“It is not going to be easy, Lilliana.”

I knew that it was a war—a war with an invincible enemy.

“Fortēs Fortūna adiuvat,” I whispered to myself, staring blankly at the wall. Fortune favors the brave.