I tilted my head back and exhaled the thick smoke through my mouth before taking a second drag on my cigarette.

I watched with narrowed eyes the table made up of the Mafia's directory. Eleven men from influential and important families, who were part of the highest echelon. There were twelve, before Gilliam killed Mattia years ago. They were old fools who thought they could give orders, but would piss their pants if Gilliam stared them down for more than two seconds.

Most meetings were about business and resolving outstanding issues, like that bastard Balbino, the 'Ndrangheta Capo, and his constant incursions into our territory.

But not today.

Today was different. The old bastards were not happy with Gilliam's administration and worked up the courage to speak up in person, instead of whispering behind my brother's back like they had been.

"We are dissatisfied, Gilliam. You married a woman who didn't belong to the Mafia," argued Youssef.

"And because of your decision, you missed the chance to increase your power, to make important allies. As the leader of an organization, it is unacceptable that you think with your lower head instead of your upper head."

The adrenaline of what was about to happen rushed through my veins, leaving me excited with the ecstasy that only a kill made me feel. I loved getting dirty with the blood of our enemies. It was something that did me good, like a necessity.

But I also loved getting dirty with blood from idiots like Youssef.

Gilliam leaned forward, resting his chin on his fist as he stared at each of the men with absolute coldness.

"And what would you advise me to do? I've been married to Elisa for years, and a divorce is out of the question, whether you're happy or not."

He shrugged and smiled pointedly.

"My son will sit in this chair in a few years, and if I know you're planning anything against my heir or my wife, I will eliminate each of you before I end your families and decimate your existence from the face of the earth."

I might feel guilty about what was happening, but guilt wasn't part of my repertoire.

We lived in peace and harmony with the other mafias, so to speak, until I killed Smith. Balbino, the 'Ndrangheta Capo, like a damn curse, unleashed hell on earth, wanting revenge for the man's murder. Since then, the bastard had been playing with us: he would blow up one of our clubs, which we would retaliate against, and he would disappear with one of our shipments, so we would do the same with some of his.

It turns out this fucking game had been going on for years, accumulating untold damage and a fucking headache. So there was discontent among the families with Gilliam. They believed that if he had married a woman of important blood, things would have calmed down with Balbino.

Francesco snorted.

"Nobody expects you to leave your wife. We accept that you chose to marry a woman outside the Mafia, just as we accept the fact that you have an heir."

They accepted, but they didn't swallow, I mused.

Elisa was not loved by the families, however she was respected within the social circle. Most of the women hated her and couldn't voice their opinions, as they were raised to be the perfect wife, the girl who would catch the Capo's eye. Then Elisa showed up, blowing up all those plans. She was envied and hated, but most of all, respected. If there was one thing she knew how to do, it was put fear in people.

Gilliam chuckled in disbelief.

"Really? Then what's the reason for this meeting, Francesco?"

"Our whores are dying and our clubs are being blown up, Gilliam. It's time to retaliate against Balbino's attacks, we can no longer be at a loss," Youssef declared.

The other men murmured in agreement with the idiot.

"We've been silent for months. It's time to change things, to show Balbino our strength and then end this standoff once and for all, by intimidating him or attacking him," concluded Francesco.

I ran my eyes to Nery, expressing a silent question through them. My younger brother was sitting across the table from me, facing everyone, his forehead furrowed, as confused as I felt.

Stefano was standing behind Gilliam, watching everyone with a clinical eye. It was unlikely anyone in the room would attempt on the Capo's life, but we were on edge and I wouldn't be surprised if they did.

"I still don't understand what the point is," Gilliam muttered, losing his patience and making it clear to everyone.

The men fell silent and looked at each other, as if deciding who would be the bravest to express the plans they had made before entering the meeting.

I picked up the whiskey glass from the table and took a few sips, waiting anxiously to hear the brilliant plan they came up with.

"The point is, since you married a woman outside the Mafia, we want you to marry one of your brothers to one of our daughters. That way, we will strengthen our alliance," said Federico.

I spat all the liquid on the table, receiving a low, threatening growl from Nery as I hit him on the arm with the jet of drink and saliva.

"Excuse me?" I asked, arching my eyebrows.

"It's a dishonor to us that we don't have any of our daughters married to any Muccino. They are decent young ladies, of good blood and from important families. They were raised and educated to serve, to be good wives and great providers of heirs," contextualized Youssef.

It was obvious that the bastard would think of that, he had a daughter who was about to get married. Angela must have been about twenty years old. Very convenient that Youssef had waited all this time to offer such a peace agreement within the Mafia.

Gilliam drummed his fingers on the long mahogany table and wrinkled his nose slightly.

"You want me to force one of my brothers to marry Angela?" he questioned sarcastically.

Youssef made a dismissive hand gesture.

"Not Angela, but any woman of your choice, although I do have preferences about my daughter being the chosen one," he stated.

"Most of us have girls of marriageable age, and, as I said, they are all decent girls who were raised to serve you. Besides, we are sure they will pass the chastity test."

"Let me get this straight. You come here to spew this bullshit and want to force us to marry some of your puritanical daughters?" I laughed, shaking my head.

"What an inconvenience, Youssef, but I'd love to kill you. It will be a huge pleasure."

I was already out of patience with these impertinent old men. Gilliam had killed Mattia, so it was only fair that I could get my hands dirty by exterminating anyone else.

Youssef grunted.

He hated me, it was a fact, but he wasn't brave enough to challenge me. After all, being the fucking psychopath of the Mafia had its advantages. I liked to boast about the blood of enemies, dirty my clothes and stain my skin. And it left people as disgusted as it did afraid.

"It's not me who's imposing, but the entire council of Caporegimes. We are unhappy with current events and want to join forces and unify the Mafia, strengthening our alliances."

What a load of crap. We entered the Mafia sworn by blood and would only leave it dead. There was no other way, no other path for men like us.

"If I remember correctly, Youssef, death is the punishment for those who betray the family," commented Nery, speaking for the first time since the meeting began.

"Nobody here talked about treason, Dominique. We are talking about rescuing our alliances and sending a response to Balbino. He gains strength and space in our territory with each passing day. We need to react," Federico countered.

Gilliam sighed and rubbed his fingertips against his temples.

"And you think marrying one of my brothers to one of your daughters will be the solution?" he objected.

They were silent, looking at each other and pondering.

"Not completely, but it's already an answer for Balbino," said Francesco finally.

Nery raised an eyebrow at me and ran his eyes to Gilliam, silently pointing to our brother. I turned my head towards him and realized that he was too thoughtful for someone who should find the idea absurd.

I swallowed.

This didn't sound good at all.

"As I recall, Youssef, death is the punishment for those who betray the family," commented Nery, speaking for the first time since the meeting began.

Gilliam was married, so he couldn't take on another commitment, nor would he even want to. Nery had his love affair with the girl outside the Mafia and, although he wouldn't admit it, he was in love with her. He wouldn't accept getting married at all.

Three Venturelli. Two were out of the question.

I took a breath and pulled the knot of my tie down.

It was up to me to make the commitment, the psychopathic bastard who busied himself torturing people. I liked sex and loved fucking women, but my interest in blood was relatively greater.

Holy shit!

What if I lied about being in love with someone? Gilliam could be an insane bastard, but he was still my brother and would take my feelings into consideration.

"Stefano?" he inquired, drumming his fingers on the table in a steady, irritating rhythm.

Stefano leaned over in Gilliam's chair, gripping the top of the backrest, and pursed his lips in a grimace.

As Gilliam's consigliere, he would have the final say on the situation, and whatever was said by him would be considered by my brother above all else. I shot Stefano a look, silently pleading with him not to do what I imagined he would do, but the bastard just ignored me.

"I think it would be a good solution. Balbino would see this as a challenge and would consider his next steps before unleashing attacks on our territory without thinking.

The men around the table murmured in agreement, reaffirming and voicing their plans and thoughts.

"And it would reinforce our alliances, as we would have a member in the Venturelli family, following Mafia standards," Youssef reiterated.

I would cut out the old creep's tongue and make him swallow it while he drank his own blood to help with digestion. A complete and proper meal for the idiot who wanted to see me married no matter what.

"All of you have daughters of marriageable age?" Gilliam asked, and I widened my eyes so wide I thought they would pop out of their sockets.

He couldn't be seriously considering this absurd idea, could he?

"Almost all of us. We can offer a dinner for your brothers to meet the suitors and choose one to marry," spoke up Francesco, the only one of the bastards who didn't have a daughter to offer.

He and his late wife conceived only Stefano, before she succumbed to death. The bastard was a terrible father and was only alive because of the weight his last name carried, otherwise he would have been long dead by his own son's hand.

"My brother," Gilliam corrected. "Only one will marry a Mafia daughter."

They were exasperated, disagreeing with my brother's response, but not brave enough to challenge him.

"Well... then which one of them will enter into the agreement?" Youssef inquired.

"My daughter is a beautiful, promising, and educated young woman. She was raised to serve her husband, as well as being strong to conceive countless male heirs. And I am sure she will pass the chastity test."

I reached out, pulled the bottle of whiskey over, and tipped it into my mouth straight from the neck. I knew very well which brother would be offered to the deal and, as a son of the Mafia, I couldn't even contest or run away from my commitments.

"Our daughters have the same qualities, Youssef. Stop bragging so much," Federico hissed.

"And besides, we know that Andrea is physically more attractive than Angela."

Youssef laughed.

"Was it because of all that beauty that she slept with the bodyguard?" he mocked, raising his lips in a sly smile.

Federico jumped out of his chair, ready to draw his gun and point it at Youssef, but was held in place by the men beside him.

"How dare you offend my daughter's honor?" he growled, spitting saliva.

Youssef threw his arms up in surrender.

"I was just expressing the rumors that are being heard, my friend, but don't worry, if the Venturelli chooses Andrea, she will go through the chastity test and we will have our answer."

If they kept bragging about which daughter was the purest, most virginal and innocent, I would bang my head against the wall. Virginity was mandatory for a Mafia bride, the chastity test served to prove just that. On the wedding night, the couple would have sex on white sheets, and the next day, the husband would have to take the proof to one of the council meetings, proving the marriage bond and their contemplation.

Francesco snorted.

"Tell us, Gilliam: which one of your brothers is going to be committed to the family?"

I downed a few more gulps of the amber liquid. The whiskey went down my throat burning.

Gilliam turned his head towards me and raised his lips in a smile.

"Dominique," he stated.

I knew the shit would fall on me, but still, I couldn't help but spit all the whiskey out at Nery, who pulled his chair back, making it screech against the floor, and grumbled in hatred.

"Damn it, fuck! Get a hold of yourself!" he snapped, wiping himself with his hand as he wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"And why the hell do I have to get married?" I countered, ignoring Nery.

"Because you're the one who unleashed this hell on us, so it's only fair that you take responsibility for it," my brother retorted.

I looked at Stefano, pleading silently, but he just shook his head.

"I agree with Gilliam. The marriage will piss Balbino off." He smiled coldly.

"And that's what we want."

"Are you sure? I believe Nery is more responsible to take on such a commitment..." Youssef stammered.

A spark of happiness at the situation filled my chest with the bastard's reaction. Maybe I'd even choose his daughter, just to torment him for the rest of his days.

"It's not up for discussion. You wanted a marriage with a Venturelli, so Dominique Venturelli will take on the commitment."

Youssef swallowed hard as he agreed.

Yes, I would choose his daughter and make his last days a living hell.

"And to which of the daughters do you intend to marry him?" asked Francesco, uninterested.

Gilliam ran his eyes from one to the other, as they held their breath, locking the air inside their inflated lungs, and awaited the absolute answer from the boss.

The idiots were hopeful, wanting to intertwine their last name with ours, expand the empire and reiterate their importance in the world of crime. They didn't give a damn about the daughters they would deliver into a forced marriage, they only thought about the status the commitment would bring.

I wasn't happy with this arrangement, or satisfied with Gilliam's choice, but I wasn't entirely uncomfortable either. I fucked the club whores on a regular basis and didn't know what it was like to be in love or love someone. I had never been through that catastrophic experience.

My business was the Mafia and my pleasure was killing our enemies. Having a wife at home wouldn't change my routine or my way of thinking. I would have to teach her how to fuck and protect her with my life; I would never love her or promise her that, but she would be respected - depending on Gilliam's choice, far more than she had ever been respected by her father.

I would give money, perks, and a comfortable life by my side. Considering the organization we belonged to, it would be far more than many women in our world have ever had in their lives.

Gilliam's eyes settled on the front and he smiled coldly.

"Enrico Romano, how old is your daughter?" he muttered. I choked on my own saliva and sat back in my chair. Damn, Gilliam was a sadistic and strategic bastard!

Enrico Romano was from one of the most influential families in the Mafia, one of our Caporegimes. He was a calculating, analytical, and very intelligent old man who had a daughter. I wouldn't know how old the girl was, since he made a point of keeping her out of anything Mafia related.

"My daughter is not part of the deal. I didn't agree to the marriage, so pick the daughter of one of these scoundrels," he hissed, not losing his composure.

The man's wife had died during the girl's delivery, and since the event, Enrico had closed himself off in his bubble. What was known about him until then was that he loved the girl above all else and did everything to protect her from the world we lived in.

She didn't attend balls or engagements, but she did attend women's events. She was always at teas and charity events, and was known to the other Mafia daughters, however, other than that, she was a complete stranger, whose features I didn't even remember.

"I'll be the judge of whether your daughter will enter into the deal, Enrico, so answer my question," Gilliam hissed through gritted teeth.

Of all the men at the table, Enrico was the only one who didn't want to unite his daughter with one of the Venturelli in any way. He was also the most trusted of the entire council. Gilliam had made the offer that no one expected: at the same time that he gave in to the men's whims, he found a solution to stop their plans, following a line of reasoning they didn't imagine.

Enrico's jaw muscle tightened. He kept his eyes narrowed at Gilliam, sparking hatred everywhere.

"Carmen is twenty-four years old," he announced.

"There is no need to intertwine the agreement between Dominique and Carmen when we have so many daughters to offer," objected Youssef, shooting a sideways glance at Enrico.

"The girl wasn't exactly raised in the traditions of the Mafia, so we don't know what kind of wife she'll make."

Enrico did not give in to the man's provocation.

"Be satisfied to offer your own daughter, for mine is not in question."

Gilliam chuckled and cocked his head to the side.

"Still, however, it is I who will choose the wife," he retorted.

"Think carefully, Gilliam. The girl will represent an important agreement between families..." Federico pondered.

"And it is precisely for this reason that I am choosing Miss Moris as my brother's bride," Gilliam announced.

Enrico rose from his chair and spread his hands on the mahogany table.

"Please, Gilliam. She is my only daughter, my companion. Do not take her from me," he begged, letting his greatest weakness show in front of everyone.

"I'm not taking her from you, Enrico, quite the contrary. We are entering into an important contract for the families. Carmen is young and, as you well said, the sole heir to the Moris house."

I pursed my lips, thoughtful.

Enrico Moris was one of the richest men in the Mafia, and marrying his only heir would be a good move. Gilliam was brilliant. They tried to control him, but he was much smarter than all of them. Unfortunately for me, I wouldn't be able to marry Youssef's daughter and torment him for the rest of his life, however, it would be much easier to have no contact with the man. I might lose control and end up killing my own father-in-law.

"Gilliam..." Enrico breathed. My brother waved his hand.

"It's decided. If it's a marriage to a Venturelli they want, then they will get one. Dominique will marry Carmen Moris." He looked at me, his serious face making any argument impossible.

"They will do so in the name of the Mafia," he announced, sealing his word once and for all.

There was nothing I could do. I was born of the Mafia and would die for it. Gilliam, my Capo, above brotherhood and any kinship, was imposing his will and authority over me. All I had to do was obey.

I nodded.

"What about the other options? Could you at least let your brother meet the girls and choose?" objected Federico.

Gilliam shot me an uncompromising look, one that said he was giving the orders and I was to obey. I kept still, for there was something about my brother that they didn't know, something that only I, Nery and Stefano could recognize. And I could see it now: he had plans, and even if they involved me, I shouldn't interfere.

He chuckled, looking away to the others.

"Gentlemen, let's be honest. Do you really think Dominique cares about meeting your daughters? Like every man who has married out of obligation in this Mafia, he is doing only what is necessary to protect the family."

I let out a silent exhale.

"I have no interest in meeting your daughters, much less participating in an auction," I expressed.

"If my Capo thinks I should marry Miss Moris, then I will."

The event would be catastrophic, both for me and the girls. They would be induced and molded to please me, nothing would be true, and I would only know what they were instructed to show me. Therefore, I would a thousand times rather marry a stranger, someone who wouldn't hide her true face from me to get a ring on her finger and thus I would avoid getting any surprises after marriage.

Youssef snorted.

"If that's your final decision, fine." He ran his eyes to Stefano.

"We'll still have Nery for another deal in the future."

My little brother laughed.

"That's not going to happen, Youssef. Be content with your accomplishment today."

If Nery ever did get married, it would be to the girl outside the Mafia. He would never agree to enter into a loveless marriage agreement, even if it went against everything we were taught, after all, the Mafia should always come first, above everything and everyone. And Gilliam knew our little brother well, just as he knew that he would most likely have to declare him a traitor if he didn't do his bidding, and so he would never involve Nery in one of these agreements.

Enrico straightened his suit lapels and took a step back.

"I need to notify my daughter about the agreement," he said, no emotion in his voice.

"She will comply with what is imposed on her, as a daughter of the Mafia, but I will not accept her being mistreated by anyone, not even the Capo's brother."

I spread my hand over my chest and stuck my tongue out, feeling immensely offended.

"Have I ever mistreated a woman, by any chance?" I hissed through gritted teeth.

Enrico shrugged.

"We all know what your reputation is in the Mafia, Dominique. Don't blame me for wanting to protect my only daughter. I'm not marrying her to you out of goodwill, I'm just following my Capo's orders."

"And we're grateful for that, Enrico," Gilliam interjected.

"Carmen will be respected, just as Elisa is. We are men, not animals."

Enrico nodded and sighed at the same time.

"I will talk to my daughter and leave it up to her whether or not she wants to participate in the organization of the wedding."

Youssef grunted.

"Leave it? Your daughter needs to submit to your orders, Enrico, just like any other Mafia woman. Stop pampering the girl or Dominique will soon have to teach her what to do when the man of the house gives orders," he spat, laughing and causing the others to laugh as well.

The muscles in Enrico's back tightened under his expensive suit. He was about to explode and pull out his gun and shoot Youssef right in the face. Carmen was a no-go zone for any man, including me, the groom.

"Go, Enrico. Talk to Carmen and we'll start the wedding preparations soon. If she doesn't want to participate, I'll ask Elisa to do it," Gilliam warned.

Enrico spun on his heels and left the room, not bothering to answer the Capo.

I was hoping Carmen would be beautiful and a pleasant companion. We would share the same roof, a few hours and children, the least that could be expected from a couple forced to marry would be a good coexistence.

I pulled my hair back and gasped.

Damn, I was really getting married! And I was doing it with a girl I didn't even remember existing.

If I knew killing Smith would bring so many problems, I would have left the man alive. Maybe without a finger or two, or even a hand. He wouldn't have needed both to live.

I raised my eyes to Nery and let out a low growl as I saw the contours of amusement on his face.

"Just shut the fuck up," I muttered.

He threw his arms up.

"I didn't even say anything."

There was no need to verbalize what he was thinking, for it was clear in his features. I was being punished for my actions, for getting us all involved in this mess.

I wanted blood.

I needed to get my hands dirty to appease the rage I was feeling. When I found the next 'Ndrangheta man on our territory, I would dismember the bastard in unimaginable ways until my rage ceased and my demons were calmed.

Taking three steps back, I propelled my body forward and lifted my leg, kicking the heavy bag with all my strength. The object barely moved, but the chains that held it groaned.

"Higher. I know you can do it" Marco shouted, firmly gripping the punching bag. "Picture a guy who's six feet tall, Carmen, and you want to kick that idiot right in the middle of his face."

I let out a grunt and tried again. I hit a higher point by imagining the face of one of our enemies and how merciless they would be if they could get their hands on me.

"Good girl" he murmured, a wide smile spreading across his face.

Marco had been my best friend and bodyguard for as long as I could remember. Ten years older, he was raised in my family's household and was the man my father trusted the most.

My mother died when I was born, so I ended up being raised by Antonieta, Marco's mother, who was also my nanny and housekeeper. With all that time spent together, we grew close and became great friends.

Unlike most girls in the mafia, I wasn't raised to be a daughter. My upbringing was geared toward becoming the heir to our house. As a child, I learned to shoot and fight to defend myself. I didn't play with dolls but with knives and weapons.

And that was a secret known only to me and my family.

No one was aware of this detail of my life. My father insisted on keeping this part of my childhood completely under wraps, hiding it even from our Capo.

I stared into Marco's green eyes and smiled.

"What does he want to do with me?" I asked, taking two steps back and preparing for the next strike.

Marco was a tall, muscular man, like most of the mafia soldiers. He was very attractive, with thinning brown hair, pronounced cheekbones, and a chiseled jaw. His green eyes occasionally hinted at a psychopathy that left me unsettled. The Camorra tattoo on his neck peeked out from the collar of the black cotton t-shirt he was wearing.

"Um..." He pursed his short lips, deep in thought. "He wants to fuck you" he warned, shrugging.

I widened my eyes and prepared to attack.

Marco employed the tactic of simulating a possible real situation, making me retaliate to defend myself.

He was two centimeters taller than me and much stronger. My goal was to kick the punching bag with such force that he would be forced to let go of it, and I couldn't stop trying until I accomplished that, even if it left me exhausted.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. My heart raced, and sweat trickled down my neck, sticking my hair to my skin.

I imagined the supposed scene.

No one was merciful in the mafia; there was no pretty scenario in a likely attack. At best, I would be killed; at worst, raped and tortured. And that was what Marco wanted me to see. If I were caught with no one to defend me, how should I respond? Accept my fate or fight until the end?

I would fight because I had been trained for it; I was taught to kill mercilessly, and to torture if necessary. I was not raised like a princess; I was raised like a soldier.

I opened my eyes and propelled myself forward, striking the punching bag squarely with my foot and ankle. The impact was so strong that Marco dropped the bag, letting it sway in the air. My leg throbbed, but my face broke into a satisfied smile.

I did it.

If it were an enemy, they would be dead and sprawled on the floor right now, and I would be free to escape.

Claps echoed behind me, a hollow, persistent noise. I turned on my heels to find my father approaching slowly. His eyes sparkled with genuine pride for his only daughter.

"Papa." I smiled, peeling off the gloves that covered my hands and throwing them onto the ground. "I didn't know you were back from the meeting."

He placed his hands in the pockets of his gray suit and shook his head. I could tell something was wrong with him; I noticed it in the tightness of the muscles in his back and the rigidity of his jaw. I had no idea what the meeting was about. He always kept mafia matters away from me, not wanting me to worry about them, but whatever it was, it hadn’t left him happy.

"I’m proud of you, amore mio. That was quite a kick" I congratulated, pointing to the bag swaying in the air with one hand. "You’re one of a kind, Carmen, a treasure, and I am so proud to be your father."

I couldn’t help but furrow my brow.

My father was an amazing man; I was very lucky to have him. I saw how mafia girls behaved at events.

They were oppressed by their fathers, subjugated to their wills, raised to be good wives. Always submissive, always compliant.

But not me.

Enrico Romano never married again and didn’t have more children, so the responsibility of running the house fell to me after his death. And that was why my upbringing was so... unconventional.

"What’s wrong?" I asked.

His white hair was slicked to the sides, disheveled from him running his fingers through it. His dark eyes seemed anxious, and the face that had once belonged to a very handsome man was marked by age. To enemies, a cold, calculating man. To me, a loving father willing to do anything to protect and please me.

He sighed.

"Papa..." I murmured, feeling my heart about to leap out of my chest.

His eyes darted to a point behind me, then returned to mine.

"There’s no easy way to give the news, Carmen, so I’ll get straight to the point" he said, and I nodded slowly, my body numbed by the news that seemed to be very bad. "You are promised to Dominique Venturelli."

I opened and closed my mouth, not knowing what to say. Nothing he had said seemed to make sense, as if he were hallucinating. Or was I the one who heard everything wrong?

"What?" Marco's voice sounded behind me.

He managed to verbalize the question I couldn’t, as my tongue started to feel very heavy and my throat, constricted.

My father exhaled through his nose and shook his head, looking as if he were devastated by it.

"The council forced Gilliam to marry one of the brothers, so the bastard decided he would marry Dominique to Carmen" He looked at me, pursing his lips in a grimace. "I’m so sorry, amore mio. I tried to intervene, but he’s our Capo, and he was determined... I couldn’t do anything."

I clenched my fists at my sides.

I had spent my damn whole life training, fighting, and learning to defend myself so that I wouldn’t have to rely on anyone after my father’s death, and now Gilliam Venturelli would simply decide that I should marry his psychopathic brother? Damn it, cursed mafia! Damn Venturellis!

I ran my hand through my sweaty bangs, pulling them back, and turned away. I couldn’t look at my father. Though I knew how things worked and that he couldn’t go against Gilliam’s orders, not without being killed in the process, I couldn’t face him at that moment. I was too hurt.

The freedom I had at home was being taken away from me.

"Carmen, look at me" he pleaded, but I made no move to turn.

"Please, just listen to me."

I looked at Marco. He was glaring at my father with evident hatred and disgust. My best friend, my personal soldier, the man who trained me to be the best, was sharing the rage with me.

"They wouldn’t leave you alone. I raised you to be self-sufficient, Carmen, but with the surname and fortune you carry, you would be forced sooner or later to marry someone from the mafia."

I spun to him in a dizzying whirl and pointed an accusatory finger.

"So you decided to throw me to the wolves before that could happen, papa? If you’ve had these plans from the beginning, why didn’t you let me be like the other girls?" I hissed, the tears pooling were blurring my vision.

He shook his head.

"You could never be like the others, dear. You’ve always shown yourself to be a warrior instead of a princess. I had hopes that you could live in peace, that you wouldn't have to marry, and so I raised you to be self-sufficient." He cast a glance at Marco. "But if they forced you into a marriage, I had plans to create a false contract with Marco. That way, you could retain your freedom, living the life you so enjoy."

A tear rolled down my right cheek. I brought my fingertips to my face to wipe it away. I cried out of anger, so much that I needed to release it somehow.

"Why didn’t you tell them I was engaged, that I was promised to another?" I whispered through clenched teeth.

He laughed without humor.

"And do you think Gilliam would accept that? Come now, Carmen, you know how things work in our world. Dominique is the brother of the Capo, his right-hand man. If I said you were promised to a soldier, they would kill Marco without hesitation and force us to honor the agreement. It would be a disgrace for me to break a bond between you and Dominique Venturelli for the sake of a soldier."

Deep down, I knew he was speaking the truth; if he had disagreed with Gilliam Venturelli, he could indeed be dead right now. But knowing this didn’t lessen the pain.

I needed to break something, to shoot at something and unleash the anger and frustration that swelled inside me.

"Our surname and fortune matter too much, Carmen. They wouldn’t leave you in peace after my death. Gilliam forced my hand in the name of the mafia; I had no choice."

In the name of the mafia.

When the Capo uttered such words, there was no choice but to comply.

I released a low sob, hating that I was showing weakness in front of them.

"And now?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

He walked towards me and held my hands, looking deep into my eyes.

"Now you will put into practice everything you have been taught, Carmen, but you must never let them know. That will be your greatest secret and your main weapon. Let them think you are like the others, that you were raised to submit, that you are a daughter of the mafia. Hide from them who you truly are and use that to protect yourself."

I lifted my jaw.

"And Dominique?"

"He will be a good husband, as much as he can be. I see how respectful Gilliam is with his wife, and although Dominique is the crazy one in the family, I believe he will be like his brother in this regard."

I clenched my jaw.

"Especially because I will kill him if he does otherwise" I stated.

I didn’t care that he was the brother of the Capo; I didn't care who he was. I would kill him without a second thought if he raised a hand against me.

I saw women of the mafia at events, scars hidden beneath clothing or heavy makeup. They suffered physical and verbal abuse, just as I knew their husbands frequented brothels and had regular mistresses. I didn’t consider what they had to be a marriage; it was more like a torment: sad, shallow, and utterly meaningless.

No matter what happened, I would never accept to live like that. I hated that I would be forced to marry in the name of the mafia, but as a daughter born and raised in that world, I knew there was no escaping that responsibility. And if I tried, I would put my family in danger. My father would lose his honor, and I would be hunted and killed. Therefore, I would fulfill my responsibilities, but I would kill Dominique before he could ever lay a hand on me.

My father laughed.

"I know you will, and that’s what makes me feel secure, Carmen, because I raised you to be the best of all" he said, placing his palm against my cheek.

"I'm sorry that you have to do this in the name of the mafia and that you have no choice, but know that I will be here for you and always for you."

"We can try another way, run away... I don’t know" Marco pondered.

"There’s nothing that can be done; it has been decided by the Capo himself. He chose Dominique's fiancee" Dad countered.

Marco punched the punching bag and raked his hands through his hair.

"Damn, so is that it? Carmen will be forced to marry someone she doesn't love?"

"she hissed, pacing back and forth."

I lifted my head and blinked, wiping away the tears that clouded my vision.

I was a Moris, an atypical girl in the mafia, and I would survive this. I had spent my whole life being trained to be strong, so I wouldn't let an arranged marriage shake me.

"I will do this" I announced.

"I am a daughter of the Camorra, my Capo is requesting my services, and I will obey his orders."

"I looked at Marco."

"I hope you’ll stand by me in this, as my best friend and bodyguard. I will feel safer if you're with me."

Marco didn’t reply. He simply turned on his heels and left the old warehouse behind, slamming the door shut as he exited. I shared the same frustration with him, but I knew my obligations, and as much as I felt resentful, there was nothing I could do about it.

"I am so sorry, darling. If I had known... I would have intervened sooner, signed the marriage contract between you and Marco" he lamented.

"But I hoped I could have a choice, a chance to decide whether I wanted to marry or not."

I flung myself into his arms, ignoring the thin layer of sweat that coated my clothes.

"I know, papa. None of us were prepared for this."

He stroked my damp hair and rested his chin on the top of my head.

"Don’t forget, Carmen. Use what you know to your advantage."

The shadow of a smile curved my lips.

"I will be a sweet wife, everything they expect of me." I pulled away, taking three steps back. "I want to see a gynecologist. I don't care if they expect an heir from me, I'm not up for that. It’s better they don’t know that I'm preventing an unwanted pregnancy."

"I’ll arrange that as soon as possible" he said, tugging at his suit sleeve to check the time on his wristwatch. "I need to know if you want to get involved with the wedding details or if you prefer someone else to organize it for you?"

I never thought about what my wedding would be like. I had no desire to marry, nor had I ever, at any point, fallen in love with anyone. I loved the freedom I had, the gift I had been given, the power of choice, which is why I never thought about tying myself down to someone. I was happy alone.

I crossed my arms over my body and sighed.

"I want to be involved in some things, but not most of them" I warned.

My father wasn’t an idiot. He had raised me to be a warrior, but he understood how things worked, so he interspersed etiquette lessons among my self-defense training. I knew how to handle a weapon just as well as I knew the vital points to take a life. I could shoot someone with my eyes closed and still hit the target. On top of all that, I knew how to conduct myself in front of others.

At home, a deadly girl, raised and taught to kill. In the streets, a lady of society, a well-mannered daughter of the mafia.

It would be easy to disguise my true personality. I had been living a double life for as long as I could remember. And as the right hand of the boss, I hoped Dominique would spend more time on the streets than at home; that way, I would be alone and at peace.

"I will notify Gilliam. He is eager for the agreement, Carmen. I’ll try to postpone the wedding date as much as possible, but I can’t guarantee that."

I still felt anger. As soon as I was alone, I'd pull one of the guns from the chest, destroy all the targets, and only return home when I felt avenged and exhausted.

I clenched my hands, cracking my knuckles.

"I will fulfill my role as a member of the mafia, papa. At some point, the wedding will take place. Gilliam has ordered it; there’s not much we can do."

He nodded.

"We will host an engagement dinner, as is our family tradition, and thus you can get to know your fiance better" he notified, changing his posture, becoming more dignified. "I assure you he will be a good husband, dear. I made it clear that I wouldn’t accept anything less than that in our meeting."

I didn’t care whether he was a good husband or not. I would not accept being a punching bag. If Dominique were an aggressive man, I would kill him without a second thought.

I heard the rumors about him, how he was psychopathic and how much he loved to kill, relishing the blood of his enemies. He was unstable, the brother that Gilliam couldn’t control, the idiot who had plunged the famiglia into war with the 'Ndrangheta. The men spoke of him, whispering his name in fear. Traitors preferred to be tortured by Gilliam, or anyone else, rather than fall into Dominique's hands.

And the sadomasochistic, vengeful demon of the mafia would be my husband.

What great happiness!

I couldn’t remember his face, as I hadn’t seen him in years. And during the times we were both present… well, it wasn’t as if he mattered to me.

Unfortunately for him, I knew how to be just as psychopathic, if not worse. I knew who he truly was and what he did, but he would never discover anything about me. He would marry thinking he was bringing home a sweet and innocent bride, not one who could kill him in the blink of an eye.

My father pressed his lips together, looking awkward and somewhat anxious, then shoved his hands into his pockets.

"I need to ask you a personal question, Carmen, and I need you to be sincere with me, because it’s very important."

Oh, my God! What more could he possibly want from me? — Go ahead, papa.

He remained silent for a few more seconds, postponing the moment.

"Marriage is very important for the famiglias; it was the council that ordered it, and that’s why they are asking for a chastity exam on the wedding night." I felt a flush cover my face and my eyes widened. I thought the situation couldn’t get worse, but I was utterly mistaken. "Tell me that you are still a virgin, Pietra, please." He cleared his throat, averting his gaze to his polished shoes.

"Yes" I confirmed, my voice barely a whisper.

"You and... um... Marco..." he whispered, stumbling over his words.

Air got trapped in my lungs. I never thought I could die of embarrassment, but here I was facing the most improbable event of my life. I would have a heart attack or a nervous breakdown at any moment if my father continued to ask about my nonexistent sex life.

Antonieta had prepared me for this. When I had my first period, I received a long lecture about sex, babies, and female and male anatomy. It was a bit embarrassing, but nothing compared to discussing the matter with my father.

"Dad, we are just friends. Nothing has ever happened between Marco and me" I warned, rolling my eyes.

I was a virgin, but not an idiot.

When I was a teenager, I had a little boyfriend at school. It was a forbidden relationship and highly secretive, but I kissed him over and over again.

My father extended his hands, as if apologizing.

"It’s okay; I believe you" he said, slowly moving away to escape the topic, just as I wanted to do.

"The council is putting a lot of pressure on this. I needed to make sure."

I huffed.

"There’s nothing you need to worry about, except for Dominique’s throat. I could kill him on our wedding night."

"I smiled, pulling a knife from the sheath at my waist."

My attempt to break the awkward mood succeeded. My father’s expression softened and he returned my smile.

"God have mercy on that man" he joked. "Yes, because I certainly won’t." I winked.

I turned sideways and threw the knife at one of the targets, hitting the red center perfectly. I imagined it was the head of my future husband, and that served as inspiration for my next practice.

I had always known what my duties were as the daughter of the mafia. I just didn’t expect them to come for me after all my father’s protection and everything he did to keep me away from prying eyes, shielding me from potential marriage proposals.

It turns out that in this world, I could try to escape the mafia, but it would always come after me; it would always be with me.

I made a fist and punched the face of the idiot who was tied to the chair in front of me. The strong, precise blow made him swing sideways and spit blood, along with a few teeth, onto the floor.

“You bastard!” he hissed, rubbing his tongue on his split lower lip.

It wasn’t a good time for me to get angry. I had been on edge for the past few days, ever since Gilliam and those old bastards put a damn collar on me as if I were a dog to be trained.

Moral of the story: I was engaged, and in a few hours, I would meet the woman who had been chosen to be mine.

I leaned over the idiot, and the smell of urine, sweat, and blood wafted up to my nose.

“I'm going to rip every tooth out of your filthy mouth, and then I'm going to rip off each of your fingernails and crush your bones until they turn to dust.”

"I let out a laugh at the joke that crossed my mind."

“You love to sniff, don't you, Camilo? See, I can give you the dust from your bones to supply your addiction, what do you think?”

I looked at Camilo, at his hands tied on the table, and then back at his face.

“You won't do that, you bastard...” he gurgled, his eyes widening as the four fingers of his hand were ripped off.

In a quick, sharp movement, I pulled the axe from the table and lowered it onto Camilo's hand, amputating the four fingers of his right hand. Blood splattered everywhere, staining my face and clothes.

“Holy shit! Damn you! Bastard!” he screamed, arching his back against the chair to lessen the pain.

I gathered my fingers and turned to one of my men.

“Burn it and make the powder. Quick, before he dies,” I ordered.

Like a bunch of useless fools, they looked at each other, lacking the courage to pick up the severed fingers.

“If nobody picks this up, I'll add yours to the dust,” I hissed through gritted teeth.

Romeo stepped forward and finally took the fingers from my open palm, hiding his disgust before disappearing in the direction of one of the rooms.

I pulled up a chair and sat down facing Camilo. I took a handkerchief from my pocket and wiped the bloodstains from my face.

“You're going to smell the best powder of your life,” I scoffed, smiling coldly.

“But... I can have mercy if you tell me the names.”

The bastard had entered our territory, raped one of the women from our clubs, and detonated a load of cocaine. He wasn’t alone, but only he had been stupid and slow enough to be caught.

Gilliam wanted the names of his accomplices, and I would make the last moments of Camilo’s life hell until I got the answers.

He said nothing, his dark eyes just staring at me, coated in hatred.

I picked up the knife from the table and twirled the tip, toying with the instrument.

“You know… I’m going to tell you a secret.

"I smiled, leaning in to whisper."

"I’m getting married,” I announced."

Camilo’s eyes widened and he showed, for the first time since he had been caught, genuine interest in the matter.

“What?” he questioned in a roar.

I confirmed with a nod.

“Oh, you know, tying the knot with a single woman, being the one in the suit in the middle of the red carpet.

"I rolled my eyes and rested my feet on the table."

"It seems that, thanks to you damn traitors, my dear brother has decided that I need a nice collar to adorn my neck.”"

Camilo opened his mouth in a perfect “o.”

“You…

"He swallowed hard."

The blood gushing from his severed fingers was weakening him with every passing second.

— You’re going to unite the families? You bastards! Balbino won’t like that one bit.”

I spread my hands across my chest and raised my eyebrows, compressing my lips.

“Oh, what a shame! I would send him an invitation, but I don’t want to bother the good man, so I’ll leave him out of the wedding.”

— I rubbed my jaw with the tip of my index finger.

"Although… he was informed about my engagement dinner, which will be taking place today. Gosh, I feel guilty about that.”"

Camilo shook his head and smiled humorlessly.

“You think you’re so much, Dominique, but you’re nothing but a fool. You’re a scared idiot who does what his older brother tells him to do.”

I sighed and threw the knife at him, piercing his arm as I pinned him against the wooden seat. He screamed as skin, muscle, and bone were ruptured.

“There’s something in the Camorra that the ‘Ndrangheta don’t understand, Camilo, and it’s called brotherhood. But I’m not surprised that you don’t know what it is, you’re nothing but animals.”