Bride of the Mafia cripple
Her eyes locked on the notebook, horror flooding her.
“That’s mine,” she whispered. “No—it can’t—”
The masked figure’s voice was smooth, cruel. “No, little flame. This is the original. Yours was only a copy.”
Leora’s heart lurched. A copy?
The girl staggered, trembling. “That’s not true. That’s not—”
The figure stepped closer, flipping the book open. He read aloud, voice dripping with command:
“Rule One: You belong to us.”
The girl screamed, clutching her head. The flames around her flickered violently, threatening to consume everything.
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