The Mafia King and his hard-headed slave

ople rushed from one place to another. Meanwhile, bars w

were running, while others were snapping pictures or recording videos. Mothers pointed us out to their kids, telling them to stay away lik

he estate." It looked more like an old castle than a house. A massive black ga

e's microphone. Bratstvo means "brotherhood" in Russian-a wo

y fought battles too, stepping in when the men needed time to recover. I'm not the first

ons, silencing anyone who dared object. Back when our parents fought side by sid

lawn. In the middle stood a fountain shaped

Garretov said, playfu

p blue eyes and dark hair. Sergio, his twin, shared

lied, stepping

hone like mirrors. In the center of the room was a massive dining table with about 50 chairs. It was covere

He's six feet tall, with a white beard, snow-like hair,

v-come, join us," he said

Mirabel, was at my father's side, holding his hand and stroking it gently. She looked at m

rica, helping her heal from the horrors she had endured bac

our family, the Brotherhood, and our children-zh

He was serious, always trying to prove he deserved to inherit

ry proud of you," my father sai

plied. "I hope this ear

but if he completes his task..." My father

mething. But over time, they became more dangerous, daring, and bloody. It was during th

ill a small chance for me to win. My father raised his glass again, this time with no smile. His face was seri

er kindness, honor, and innocence. I could speak about her all night, about how much she meant to us. But I

de him was a woman of similar complexion, her beauty unmatched. She wiped her tear-streaked face with the

wish I could spend all night talking about Kira, about what happened, but I hope everyone will remember her as sh

happens for a reason. If that's true, then I believe she's in a better place now." He

ld her close, his eyes full of pain yet somehow grateful. "She wanted to visit t

n't recognize. The melody was hauntingly beautiful, and even though I didn't understand the words, the emotion

family sat in silence

melo, got what he deserved-and I wish I had thought of something even worse for him whil

ov, for your service. Your family should be proud of you." He smiled at me warmly. "And thank you to everyone gathered here tonight. Let this not be a ni

heers. Everyone rose, hugging the Ta

Taylor whispered to me, holding my shoulders gently.

stand," I said with

ne. My family and the Taylors were seated together, chatting,

mne yego! (Mikhai

oyu kuklu! (Sofia

rm

. Then she turned to me, her expression softening. "Rita, I heard about last week's assignm

ad. "She is! My little carica. You should've seen t

d anger written all over their faces. Their leader's son, Eric, with his golden hair and icy blue

my mother said gently, givi

ma," I replied, mirrorin

while the women and children sang and clapped along. The Taylors seemed to finally

Camelo's death. I wanted the world to know what it lets happen-how the smart stay

it, and they knew me, as well as the police, but they didn't have proof. Still, they reco

s-fathers, mothers, sisters, and brothers. But did they feel sorry for their

, looking annoyed. He hated that I was taking over as the family's leader. Honestly, I'd

ated. Garret shook his head, w

soft as her hand gently rubbed my back. Her sm

tired, Mom. I need to rest before tomorrow's

m and locked the door. Sliding to the floor, I leaned

at my fists, wrapped in white bandages, slowly soaking with blood. Peeling them off, I wince

side and closets on the other. Above my bed hung a large picture

and grabbed fresh clothes. On my way to the bathroom, I no

dressed, letting my brown hair fall over my shoulders. My reflection stared back

red as blood-none of it mine-washed away. The

t hit me, and I froze. The window was open again. I kn

for my gun on the desk, but before I could

s above my head and a knee pressed against my legs. His warm breath bru

ist, tightening its gr