{CARA'S POV} * * “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
{EDMONDO'S POV} [HOURS AGO] * * The estate looms ahead, its iron gates dulled by the fading sunlight. This place has never felt like home.. not with the life we live. My grip tightens on the steering wheel, knuckles blanching as I roll the car to a stop. Dropping Rossa off at her grandma's was calculated. Necessary. Her safety isn’t something I gamble with, not with wolves circling. But the unease in her eyes before I left… it gnaws at me, like a silent accusation. 'Why didn’t you tell me sooner?' Because some truths don’t protect... they haunt. I step out of the car. The air carries the faint smell of wet stone and tobacco, mixing with the oppressive silence. Giovanni is waiting, as expected, leaning lazily against the gate with his signature smirk plastered on his face like he doesn’t give a million fucks about the world. “So,” he drawls, voice light but laced with venom. “You’re playing knight now? Shielding the damsel from the big bad wolves?” I don’t answer. Ther
{EDMONDO'S POV} [Continuation] * * The screams are still there, echoing in my head. They didn’t stop in the car, and they’re not stopping now. Images of the mountains, broken bodies, and chaos cling to me like smoke I can’t shake off. As we get closer to the estate, I see a figure. Similar to my father's. Standing there like some marble statue carved from pure disdain and disappointment. I step out of the car, my body heavy and my mind running on fumes. But his gaze hits me before his voice does. “Edmondo,” he says, low but sharp. “What are you doing? What have you done?” I say nothing. My jaw tightens as I brush past him. “Non pensare di potertene andare!” (Don’t think you can just leave!) His hand clips the back of my head... not hard, not enough to hurt. But just about enough to spark the fury simmering beneath my skin. I stop. Turn slowly. “You know,” I say, my voice icy and deliberate, “potrei farti finire in galera per questo.” (I could get you sent to jail
{CARA'S POV} * * I wake to the sound of murmured voices, muffled, as if I’m underwater. My head throbs, and for a second. Darkness is so complete that I’m not even sure if my eyes are open. I try to sit up, but a wave of nausea knocks me back down. The floor beneath me is cold. Unyieldingly cold. Where am I? I force my eyes open again, blinking until my vision sharpens. I’m in a room; a dim, bare space with concrete walls and a single light flickering overhead. There’s an iron door to my left, the only exit. My wrists are bound tightly behind me, it's cutting into my skin with every movement. It’s freezing. I can feel the chill biting into my skin as well. The air here is different. Crisp. Sharp. Nothing like the warmth of home - Sicily. I know I’m far from home, far from anywhere near and anything familiar. I glance around, keeping silent and assessing. I keep my face calm. “Don’t let them see anything,” I tell myself. “Trust no one.“ Footsteps. Slow, deliberate. They
{EDMONDO'S POV} * * Smoke curls around me, thick and bitter, as I take another drag from my pipe. The faint flicker of torchlight dances across the cold stone walls, casting shadows that writhe like restless spirits. The air is damp here, heavy with the metallic tang of blood and the stench of decay. It clings to my skin, to my thoughts, to every breath I take. She’s here, chained against the far wall. Cara La Rosa. Her name alone ignites the fire in my chest, a rage I’ve carried for far too long. I hate the Southern Italy Mafias. I hate their disunity and weakness. Just like the La Rosa; they couldn't take the fight head on, so they decided to do their deeds in the shadows. She doesn’t belong here.. not in my world, not in my plans, not in my head. And yet, here she is. I lean against the slaughter table, the weight of the room pressing down on me like a stone. The pipe burns hot between my fingers, the acrid smoke doing nothing to calm the storm inside. I hate the way sh
{EDMONDO'S POV} * * I don’t stop. My hand, calloused from years of holding reins and gripping steel, brushes against her trembling shoulder. She flinches at the contact, her body taut, as if bracing for a blow. But it’s not the fear in her wide, tear-filled eyes that holds me in place. No. It’s something else; something deeper. A raw, gnawing needs to peel away every last layer she’s clinging to. Her body. Her secrets. With a sharp tug, I force her to face me. Her breath hitches, and her chest rises and falls in rapid, uneven gasps. The remnants of her dress, torn and hanging limply, barely conceal her. It’s as if her very skin is daring me to look deeper. To see what she’s hidden. What she’s tried so desperately to bury. Her skin is pale, smooth in some places... but it’s the imperfections that catch my eye. Another scar, jagged and pale, slashes across her navel, curving downward with a disturbing grace. It's not the kind of mark a blade would leave behind. No, this i
{EDMONDO'S POV} [Flashback To Months Back.] * * I walk into the church, the heavy door creaking behind me. The air’s thick with incense, mixing with the cold stone that feels like it’s closing in around me. At the last pew, my mother sits, eyes closed and fingers sliding over her prayer beads. The soft clicks of the beads were the only sound in the stillness. For a second, I almost feel like I could forget everything; the mess, the blood, the shit show I’ve made of my life. But I step closer and know it’s still there, weighing me down. I linger for a moment, watching her, then step into the aisle. My boots make quiet thuds against the stone floor. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even bother to open her eyes. Her voice, soft but fucking firm, cuts through the silence like a knife. “Take away every filth from you. You’re in the house of the Lord.” I exhale, running a hand through my hair. I’m not here for peace. Not here for redemption. I pull my gun from my coat. “The gun’s not t
{GIOVANNI’S POV}**I’ve learned to hide it well, the monster inside me. You don’t grow up as Giovanni fucking D’ Avi without figuring out how to play the angel while keeping the devil locked behind your ribs. To the world, I’m calm, controlled, the charming D’ Avi boy who could talk a priest out of his Bible. But underneath? There’s a part of me that would crush a skull without blinking if it meant protecting… Edmondo.And as I stand outside the Arctic Room, that part of me stirs. Restless and pissed off.The steel door looms in front of me. It's cold and uninviting, like the damn room itself. Normally, I wouldn’t give a shit about what’s happening inside. The Arctic Room isn’t meant for people I care about; it’s for scum, traitors, anyone stupid enough to cross us - Il Noce. But today, it’s different.Today, Cara La Rosa is in there.I shouldn’t care. Hell, a part of me doesn’t. She’s a La Rosa, and everything that’s happening to her is because of that cursed bloodline. If her o
{EDMONDO'S POV}**The heavy door creaks open, and the weight of silence falls over the room like a guillotine. I step inside, my boots hitting the concrete with a deliberate rhythm. Each step echoes off the cold, unwelcoming walls.My arctic is supposed to be sacred; a fortress of solitude where silence reigns and whispers dare not tread. But now, it’s polluted. The air feels different, tainted by… these people.I don’t ask what’s going on. That would imply I care. Instead, I pause in the doorway, my gaze sweeping over the room. “Well,” I say, my tone light, almost amused. “I didn’t know we were hosting a circus tonight. Where’s the clown?” My lips curl into a thin smile, one that holds no warmth, only ice.Every eye turns to me, fear flickering in some, defiance in others. Good. I prefer a mix… it keeps things interesting.Behind me, my shadows file in. First is my consigliere (advisor), his face a perfect mask of neutrality. He’s clever, but I’ve never trusted him. Trust is a lu
{CARA'S POV}**The cold sends shivers down my skin. This is northern Italy and this room… it's not so different from the ‘north pole’ I was chained in. Secondly, I’m wearing white lingerie and not much else.Who cares? There’s no one to see me in this fortress that spells the word ‘Luxurious’ by looks. No one to see me looking this hot. If I were to be home in Sicily, father would frown at the idea of me wearing these. He preferred his daughters looking masculine.I’m virtually alone up here. I always am. Even at home I had my separate apartment from the main La Rosa mansion and I stayed alone compared to my now, late siblings who lived with dad. Agata was his favorite so she never stayed far from him.The vanity table before me brims with all sorts of hairs. Wigs. Makeup sets of various brands, hairpins, the finest of jewelries… but they don’t count. Not to me. They’re just the equipment brought in to make me look perfect .I should be happy, right? Doesn’t everyone want a set of
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