PRETTY GIRLS DON’T SURVIVE LONG IN WAR

ALANA

They always say war turns boys into men. But no one talks about what it does to girls.

It doesn’t make us women. It makes us weapons. Then it uses us until we break.

It’s been sixteen hours since I delivered Zach into my father’s hands.

Sixteen hours since I sedated the only person I’ve ever loved and handed him over like a package. Sixteen hours of silence.

No updates. No word. No orders.

Which means one of two things:

Either the plan worked, or everything is about to go to hell.

I stare at my bedroom ceiling as the sun starts bleeding through my curtains. I haven’t slept. I couldn’t. My mind won’t stop spinning.

Zach is smart. He knows how to lie, how to play the part. He’s watching everything. Listening. I know he is. But even smart boys bleed when the wrong people get curious.

And my father is very curious.

A soft knock breaks the silence.

Three taps. Then two. The code.

Gia.

I sit up fast, cross the room, and unlock the door. My best friend slips in, eyes scanning the hallway before shutting it behind her.

She looks different this morning.

Sharper. Stiffer.

Dressed for war in a black blazer and leather boots instead of her usual lounge clothes.

“Your father’s in the sunroom,” she says without preamble. “He’s waiting for you.”

I nod.

“Did he say why?”

She shakes her head.

“But he doesn’t look happy.”

That chills me more than anything else.

Roman doesn’t show emotion unless it’s on purpose.

If he’s letting me see he’s angry, then something’s already gone wrong.

I grab a coat and follow Gia through the house. The halls feel tighter today. The marble colder. The portraits on the wall, paintings of my family going back generations, feel like they’re watching me.

Judging me.

I wonder how many of them were traitors too.

When we reach the sunroom, Gia stops and touches my wrist.

“Be careful,” she says. “He’s… different today.”

Then she disappears back down the hall, heels silent on polished floors.

Roman is sitting in a high-backed chair, facing the window. The sun cuts across him like a blade of gold.

He doesn’t look at me as I enter.

But I feel the weight of his silence like a noose around my neck.

“Sit,” he says.

I do.

“Tell me what happened.”

I swallow.

“I brought him. Just like you said.”

“No issues?”

I shake my head.

“None.”

“He was unconscious?”

“Yes.”

“You administered the sedative?”

I pause. Only a beat. But it’s enough.

Roman turns to face me, slowly, like a shark scenting blood in the water.

His eyes are darker than usual. Deadlier.

“Tell me exactly how it happened,” he says.

And just like that, I know I’m being tested.

I choose my next words carefully.

“I met him at the train yard. He didn’t ask why. He just came.”

Roman tilts his head.

“He trusts you that much?”

I nod.

“Interesting,” he murmurs. “Continue.”

“I gave him the sedative in a drink. He passed out within minutes. I drove him to the warehouse and handed him over to Vito.”

He nods, face unreadable.

“Did you see where they took him?”

“No.”

Another lie.

Roman would never tell me if Zach was dead. He’d let me suffer. Wonder. That’s his version of mercy.

“I assume,” he says, “you understand the consequences if you’re lying to me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

Then he smiles. But it’s not kind.

“Because I’ve already spoken to Vito.”

My blood freezes.

“He says the boy was far too lucid for someone who just took a full dose of the sedative.”

I scramble.

“Maybe it wore off faster than—”

He slams his hand on the table between us, and I jump.

“Don’t lie to me, Alana.”

I go still. My pulse roars in my ears.

Roman leans closer, voice low.

“You think I don’t know you? I raised you. Fed you. Trained you to lie better than this. If you’re going to betray me, at least do it with a little dignity.”

I open my mouth. No words come.

He exhales slowly. Then he stands and walks to the bar cart in the corner, pours himself a drink.

When he turns back around, he’s calm again. Too calm.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says. “You’re going to fix this. Before I do.”

My throat tightens.

“Fix what?”

“You’re going to make him ours. Fully. Irrevocably. No more games. No more half-measures.”

I stare at him.

“How?”

He raises his glass.

“Make him fall for you completely. Make him believe you’re all he has. Then turn him.”

“Turn him into what?”

Roman’s smile sharpens.

“Into what you are.”

I leave the room with my stomach in knots.

Gia finds me in the hallway again. She takes one look at my face and pulls me into an empty guest room.

“What did he say?”

I shut the door behind us.

“He knows.”

She doesn’t ask how.

“What now?”

“He wants me to flip Zach. Turn him into one of us.”

“Can you?”

I shake my head.

“No. I won’t.”

Gia exhales.

“Then you better start figuring out what your next move is. Because I’ve seen what happens to the people he decides are liabilities.”

“I don’t care what happens to me,” I say.

“Then think about him.”

I look up. And that’s when I realize something terrifying:

Zach walked into this with eyes wide open. But he never stood a chance if I failed to hold the line.

I don’t go back to my room.

Instead, I sneak into the security wing. There’s a closet of servers there, linked to the internal surveillance system. I use my passcode. The cameras don’t flag me anymore.

I scroll through until I find the warehouse feed.

There. Zach. Sitting in a locked room. Leaning forward, elbows on knees, completely alert.

He’s still alive. Still okay. For now.

I watch as Vito enters.

He throws something on the floor at Zach’s feet. A folder.

Zach doesn’t even flinch. He picks it up, flips through it, expression unreadable.

Vito says something I can’t hear.

Zach nods. He’s playing along. I hope.

Then Vito leans in. Too close.

He says something else. Harsher this time. And Zach laughs.

My heart leaps into my throat. He’s poking the bear.

Don’t provoke him. Don’t. But Zach stands. And for a terrifying second, I think he’s about to fight.

But instead, he walks to the camera in the corner. Stares directly into it. And gives the smallest nod. To me.

My breath catches. It’s a signal. He knows I’m watching.

He’s still in this with me.

I close the feed and rush back to my room before anyone sees me.

Once inside, I lock the door and slide to the floor, heart racing.

He’s okay. He’s alive. And he still believes in us.

But I don’t know how long we have before my father takes that choice away.

Pretty girls don’t survive long in war. But maybe weapons do.

And if I have to become one again to save him…

Then God help the next person who tries to stand in my way.