PROlOGUE

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PROLOGUE 

GABRIELLE POV 

I crashed onto the floor, gasping in pain, my fingers clawing at the wet floor as the rain poured in torrents around me.

I spat out blood, my insides quaking with every little move I made. I wanted to give up but I couldn't stay down. A Genovese never stayed down, even if I was tired, staying down meant defeat. Defeat meant death. And I couldn't die now, not after everything. Not after all the sacrifices I'd made to get this far. 

from the corner of my eyes, I could see Grandfather gazing down at me with a disapproving look on his face as he slowly rubbed at his beard. I struggled to my feet clutching my broken arm, holding my opponent's gaze as I tried to gauge him to find any sort of weaknesses, something I should have done right from the start. I focused my good eyes on him- the other was shut and mangled over from his deadly punch_ trying to anticipate his next move. He was larger than me, an ugly scar marring his hideous face. 

He was one of our soldata. An older male, trained by grandfather himself... he'd been my trainer too. I was just a child. But grandfather has always droned it in my head that I was never to be weak, and that my enemies would always be bigger, so what I lacked in size, I was to make up for it with my brain and cunningness.

I took a deep breath as I felt the rage of all the battles I'd been put through coursed through my skin, my veins, and every pore of my being. They feel like nails scratching at me, tearing at my soul with deliberate slowness and driving me mad in the process. The night I lost my father to a rival clan became a living nightmare in my head. The spray of his warm blood as they caught my cheek and soaked up my clothes like flashing images. The hitman had continued to fire shot after shot at him, even though father's chest bled through the dozens of holes he'd already put in. The hitman must have come with the knowledge that he was going to get killed, and on that thought decided to let all his anger soar like fireworks. 

Grandfather's men had shot him in the head, but he died with a smile on his face, while I watched in horror as the only man who cared about me crashed to the floor, the life draining from his warm eyes. My father's corpse was unrecognizable, and everything was over in a matter of minutes. 

My life changed. For the worst. After some months, all I felt was resentment at my father for allowing himself to get shot, and I being forced to take his place, losing my chance to enjoy my childhood, forced to fight for my life, tortured and forced to torture, locked up in the dark, reconditioned until I lost my humanity.

I glared at my opponent as if he was the cause of the injustice I'd suffered. In a way, he was, and all I wanted to do was make him bleed. He was the one standing in the way of my grandfather's approval anyway. 

I dashed for my long-forgotten weapon, a small dagger that I had been gifted on my tenth birthday. He came after me like a predator, taking his time, baiting me. He probably thought he'd already won.

I snatched up my weapon, but instead of lunging for him, I maneuvered out of his grasp and the move caught him by surprise he almost lost his footing, barely managing to strengthen his stance, but then I got my chance, and I went in swiftly, stabbing through his shoulder blades. Warm blood spurted out and I grinned in the knowledge that I'd hit a major artery.

He punched me hard, the impact hitting me like a freight train. My head almost came off my head. I crumbled to the floor. The taste of copper filled my mouth and flowed down my lungs. I clutched at the dirt, trying to hold onto something that would keep me conscious, but I couldn't will myself to move. I rolled on my side, and I felt the world tilt on its axis as blood dripped from my nose.

I tried to ignore the burning pain, focusing rather on being able to breathe again. He came up to me but I felt him stagger, he was losing a lot of blood. That was a good thing because I wasn't sure I had anything left in me. I clutched my dagger, the last spark in my chest frazzling. 

His strong hands grabbed my shoulder in a bruising grip. He turned me over, and I used the force to propel myself forward. My dagger sliced at his neck in a clean swipe. He froze, staring eyes wide at me, the only reaction he showed was a twitch at his temple. 

He let go of me, staggering a bit, his hands flying up to his neck to try to stop the torrent of blood flowing, eyes widening further when he realized that he was dying. I watched him, on my knees even as I heaved and struggled to stay conscious. His blood spurted onto my face, like warm candle wax, before he crumpled in front of me, life and anger draining from his eyes, leaving only soulless sockets behind.

The rain washed away the blood, washing my sins along with it. I watched Grandfather stand from the corner of my eye. He gave me a dark smile and walked out of the fighting arena.

I lay there for the longest time. The rain fell in a cascade over me until my cries were replaced with hysteric laughter. The empire would finally be mine. I'd endured so much, killed, tortured, all for my grandfather's approval. He'd been holding off on his promise, but not anymore. 

He'd sworn on his life that I'd be his heir if I could win. I broke bones, fractured ribs, and almost lost an eye, but I pulled through.

The dark glint in his eyes had hinted at mischief but I was done living in uncertainty.

I didn't care how many opponents he sent my way, none of them would be able to take what I'd earned fair and square. Anyone who tried to take my place will pay with their blood. They didn't know what was coming for them. They had no idea the blaze that would soon sweep through their territory. Grandfather wanted terror and that was what he was going to get.

I was not going to stop. I was going to live. I was going to fucking survive no matter what.