Captured By A Bastard

{CARA'S POV}

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“Is Papà waiting for me?” I ask, my grip tightening on the door handle, and my pulse rising.

I’m not sure I want to hear what he has to say. But I need to. 'Cara, you’re my only child now. By my side, you’ll hold the future of this family in your hands.'

I can almost see it; my life shifting, closing in, and heavy duty falling heavily on me.

We aren’t just an average family. We’re La Rosas. Power and blood - it’s what we’re built on. I’ve known it since before I could even talk. Trust no one. Don’t back down. Never apologize.

But tonight, something’s changed. Agata, my sister, is gone, taken by this war, and now the Gambinos, Da Costas, De Lucas… they’re out for blood. They’ll come for me next to destroy the family whole.

“Miss Cara, your father has been waiting,” Papà’s assistant says, opening the door to his study. The thick scent of cigars and leather hits me, comforting, familiar, but tonight, the air feels different… tense, sharp.

“Daughter.” His voice greets me like gravel over stone, emotion buried beneath.

“Are you alright?” I ask, forcing strength into my voice. Not allowing an ounce of weakness.

He sighs, a sound heavy with everything unsaid as his hard eyes look at me. “Sit,” he orders, but I remain standing in the dim light of his study.

“I’m sorry about Agata,” I say softly. My heart clenches, but I still keep my expression. She was more than just my sister; she was my other half.

He doesn’t respond, though. He never does - death isn’t something we dwell on. Only the living. Only survival. And tonight, that survival is in question.

“We need to talk,” he says, voice low, cutting. I nod, bracing myself as I stand at attention, waiting.

“You’re all I have left,” he begins, each word heavy, as if weighing his next move. “My strong daughter, my only child.” There’s raw determination in his voice. I know there’ll be no arguing with him. Not tonight.

I open my mouth, about to tell him I’m ready. That I’ll carry this famiglia forward. But his words cut through, sharper than a blade.

“Cara,” he says, each syllable deliberate. “You have to leave. This home isn’t what it is anymore.”

For a moment, I’m frozen.

It’s not what I expect, but I don’t back down. Leaving isn’t an option… not for me. Not for a La Rosa. “What do you mean, leave?” I ask, my voice, a controlled force. Even though my heart is pounding as hell. “You think I’ll run because the Gambinos or De Lucas want to finish us off? I’m ready, Papà. Let me stand with you.”

He looks at me, staring at my face, as if he’s seeing a foolish child, as if he can’t believe I don’t understand. “The issue is not the Gambinos or De Lucas.” His voice drops, steady and grim. “It’s the Yakuza.”

The Yakuza.

The name hits me like a knife to the gut. I’ve suspected it.. the deals I had glimpsed at the other day, papers left half-hidden on his desk. I’d sensed it.. the unfamiliar names and signatures inked in blood. But hearing it now, confirmed - it’s like the ground beneath me crumbling.

“The Yakuza?” My voice is low, steady, masking the shock coursing fast through me. “You’ve been working with them?”

Silence. His silence is confirmation enough, and it’s deafening.

A wave of fury rises in me.

“You think they care about loyalty?” I snap, letting my anger show. “They don’t walk like us. They don’t think like us. They are Japanese and we’re Italians, Papà. And you know as well as I do; they’re coming for us. They’ll take everything we’ve built if we don’t fight back.” My voice lowers, steadying. “I can handle this. You’ve kept me in the shadows for too long. This family, this war… it’s mine as much as it is yours.”

He shakes his head, steel in his gaze. “No, Cara. You don’t understand. The Yakuza doesn’t bargain, they take. I'd rather not give you to them.”

I feel the gravity of his words settling in, but I refuse to let it show. I am a La Rosa. I am more than a daughter. I am a force.

“Papà, I can fight them,” I insist, stepping closer, feeling the defiance rising. “I won’t leave, not now. If the Yakuza wants to come for us, let them. I’ll be ready.”

He doesn’t meet my eyes, but I see it - a flicker of something. Regret. Not for me, not even for the famiglia. Something darker, something I can’t understand.

“I’m not sending you away to protect you, Cara,” he says, voice low, tight. “You have no choice.”

I step closer, heat rising. But he’s not himself. He’s not sending me away because he thinks I’m weak. He’s sending me away because he is. That's what I think.

“I won’t leave,” I say, voice sharp and shaking. “You trained me to be your equal, Papà. I won’t hide.”

“Listen.” His hands clamp my shoulders, his voice cracking, raw. “I made a mistake, Cara. You don’t understand, and I’m... sorry.”

For a heartbeat, I see him, the real him, lined with fear. Guilt. It’s not the man who built this empire. It’s a man who’s breaking, and that only fuels me.

“Then let me stay.” I barely breathe the words. “Let me fight.”

His hands tighten. “No. Foolish child.”

Silence cuts deep, thick with everything we can’t say. Then… bang!

Glass shatters, the hall rocks. His voice cuts through, “Run!” but I’m already moving, tearing out into the storm.

Cold rain slams down as I sprint into the dark, but I barely feel it. I don’t get far before footsteps close in, fast. Too fast. I don’t look back. I know what’s coming.

Ambushed. On my father’s own turf.

Zzt! A jolt hits me from behind, pain ripping through my body. Mio Dio! A taser, burning into my spine.

“Cazzo!” I gasp as my legs buckle, vision blurring. Not like this. I deserve to see who, who's hitman, did this to me.

I force my head up, catching one last glance. Warm mink brown eyes under a battered, coffee-brown hat. He's unfamiliar. He smells strange, like mist from a salt coast.

I cling to that as darkness swallows me whole.

He's strange.

A strange bastardo!