Mafia's Heir
Her robe was drawn tightly around her thin frame, her dark hair streaked with silver, her eyes searching her daughter’s face for answers.
Elena forced a smile. “I’m fine, Mama.”
Her mother frowned, unconvinced, but said nothing as Elena stepped inside. The warmth of home wrapped around her, smelling faintly of soap and the stew her mother had made earlier. Her little brother was asleep on the couch, his head lolling against the armrest, a comic book slipping from his hand.
Elena’s chest tightened. She carefully tucked a blanket over him and brushed the hair from his forehead. He was only twelve. Too young to carry the weight of debts and mafia threats. Too young to understand that his sister
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