Waking up to Father and brother in one room both still breathing with no bullet holes is a definite sign of my massive fuck up. With a groan I get up off the cold metal floor. Quickly scanning the surroundings it seems we're in a metal box, container of some sort and the noise of a deep vibrating horn booming from the outside of these thin walls tells our exact location. As exact as it can be assuming we haven't actually left the city.

Not daring to look up again, the echo of famous bontonis in brown stomps towards me. Before I could brace myself the first blow came.

"You fucked up." The tone of his voice is empty. Sometimes I wonder how much use I can still be before he deems my existence too much of a burden. One of the shoes moved pointing to the side. With no need to look I know it's my brother Alesso who is receiving his fathers death glares, potentially. As he was in charge of today's exchange. Not once did he think my unpredictable foul mouth would get us into trouble. But then again they should know better than to disrespect Father and his rules.

It might sound like I condone his actions as aggressive as they might be. I don't. I owe him my life. Everything I have physically and mentally. My whole being has been carefully curated by him and dozens of masters, teachers, trainers or whoever else came round to teach me a lesson one way or another. I owe my heart, morals and essentially life to him. It hasn't bothered me once. In fact because of all the training I am able to think for myself to act whatever way I want and protect the people I care for.

Nonetheless as Alesso has accused me of, my foul mouth has gotten us all into deep shit and this time they will collect. As my head runs in thought a second blow lands. The air whooshes right before realisation and the burning hits my face. The momentum of the hit and my already wobbly state stood no chance of remaining on two feet. The floor has greeted my body once more, almost passing out as the drug still hasn't worn off entirely. Struggling to keep my eyes open as the floor became unclear. Trying to focus on the one rusty spot slowly came back into focus. Blinking a couple of times I felt strong enough to stand up once more. With my palms clenched into fists I stood there still looking down.

Control it.

Sensei's voice etched deep within my brain, almost engraved after countless hours of training. Control it I repeated over and over just as he did from within.

Father no longer close in sight as I kept on staring at the floor but his voice was clear. "You're going to pay for the mistake." He came back into view facing me. "Look at me." anger seeping through the words. As my eyes met his, I saw the anger boiling from within. This was an important exchange. I knew it was. But even the best of men have a weak spot. Mine was exploited mercilessly in the minutes leading towards the big exchange. Never thought I'd be put in a similar situation again by the one man who saved me from it.

My skills in combat were better than most of Fathers men. But still I was the one to entertain them. For Father to show off his possessions. For the men to lust over what they cant have. For them to rule over a seemingly weak woman. To enslave and torture.

My weakness.

He pointed with his chin towards the ajar door on one side of the container. As he did so it opened revealing his most trusted bodyguard, Antonio Ramirez. Never liked that man. With a scowl I walk off not sparing a single glance to him. The only man who can see right through me with a single stare.

The wind on the outside is cold against the exposed skin. Wearing almost nothing doesn't help. A coat is dropped onto my shoulders as Antonio gives me a nod and motions to the car parked, almost hidden a couple of containers to the left. Spearing a look to the right, I caught a glimpse of the deep waters. Then only for a second I felt something stir within my heart. Shaking my head I am nudged towards the parked car.

Walking up to the car Antonio opened the door and let me join the comfort within. He then moved smoothly to the drivers side and locked us in as per his orders I'm sure he was given. Nobody does anything, even breathe, without the Father ordering it. Sometimes I wonder how he ends up having me within his army as his adoptive daughter if he can't even trust his own shadow. It has been a mystery of my life just as my family's annihilation and the angel who saved me from sharing that same faith.

On multiple occasions I have tried to find out any sliver of the truth but every lead I followed has been cut off literally. Their heads, fresh or old, have been detached from their bodies. Blood pooling at the wound. With no torture marks. No other wounds, not even a bruise that I could see on the exposed flesh. Almost every lead is dead. There were a couple of individuals higher up the food chain that had their hands dirty in some way connected to the event or the cover up of it. But those individuals were guarded heavier than the president of the USA himself. No way a Mafia's Fake Princess is getting to have a casual chat about why they dabbled their sweaty obnoxious paws to cover up that 'misfortunate tragedy'.

The investigation has never been closed. Not to my knowledge and after stealing copies of the police reports it was confirmed. Someone never wanted to let the world know what actually went on that night.

As thoughts consume me and what ifs appear out of thin air a warm hand rubs my thigh way too close for my comfort. Focusing on it, my head slightly down and a grimace on my lips, I bark out, "Get that off me, if you want it to still be attached to your body when you wake up, Tony." As the words leave my lips without moving my head I stare up at Antonio deadly serious.

"You're not your fathers daughter but man you act like you could be." He slides his fingers off my thigh before turning to the windscreen still and silent.

As I roll my eyes the door opens again and Father sits beside me.

"Your punishment is not over." He mutters under his nose well aware I heard it as my back stiffens awaiting his next command.

The world wooshes by. First container after contained. Second building after building. Next field after field. The road becomes more familiar as we distance ourselves from the bustle and chaos of the city to the final destination. Our home.

This is the only road I ever remember. A far away from anything, deserted old runway with a jet plane and crew already waiting for take off. I hate flying. Not so much the possibility of dying while powerlessly falling to the nearing ground. But being closed with Father in one room for longer than five minutes. No escape.

Let the torture begin.

As we pull up to the jet the doors open and I am dragged out by another man in a suit. Pushed towards the plane as he doesn't falter squeezing my wrist painfully in his bear claw. He ducks entering the jet shoving me into the seat and bucklin me in as if I am incapable of doing so myself.

Shaking my head the realisation dawns on me. It is my punishment. 24/7 surveillance. The man slides his jacket off the broad shoulders plopping it into the bulkhead. His muscles are well visible under the overly tight dark grey shirt. The gun must be fully loaded and ready in the holster hanging on his side. He takes the seat in front of mine, getting comfortable.

With a sigh I stare out the window as the cabin is prepped for take off.

In the air not one person spoke to me. I've been handed a bottle of water with some food by my personal protection service. After which I was left alone for the whole duration of the flight. Whereas Father made dozens of calls pulling information from all sorts of contacts. With every call his composed look broke a little more.

By the end of the flight he looked straight at me shaking his head with one eyebrow raised in disapproval and questioning. He tsked and walked off to his own seat as the plane descended with slight turbulence.

As we exited the plane being held by the gigantic hand again Fathers voice reached my ears and yes I was listening in. "Keep an eye on her 100% of the time." He eyed my bodyguard before walking off to the black jaguars parked with their own butlers awaiting this arrival.

"You've heard him, move it." the man growls out as he pulls on my hand moving towards the second car.

"Oh he talks!" I exclaim my words leaking sarcasm. There's a brief grumble of dissatisfaction from him before another dose of the silent treatment begins.

— — — — — — — — — — —

It's been a week since the fuck up and my life seems to be back to the normal routine. Sparring with masters, reading, weapons training, well that's almost normal. All while being stared at by my buff friend who even got the permission to sleep on my couch. But yet no one, not my brothers or Father mentioned it. It feels surreal that no physical punishments have been dealt. So instead of duelving on the fact my protection has been retreated for the night I plan on sneaking around the mansion to look for my own answers again.

Mission for the night: find out as much about the fuck up night as possible. After all, it was a big deal that shattered because of my outburst. Although the radio silence provokes me to think Father has planned it. It must have had some effect on the Fathers Empire and his goons but if all my punishment was house arrest then what else is he planning. Surely not to pawn me off to the enemy, not even he would be this cruel especially with the information I managed to find out about the night that changed my life.

The whole week every single man in the family has been MIA. Not a single meeting was conducted on these premises. Not a peep of any hostages taken. Not even a whisper of the death toll that was created at the Black Pussy.

I put on my black pumas matching the entire outfit of a combat ready assassin. Tying my hair in a long sleek braid letting it fall over my shoulder and admiring its length. I was never much of a girly girl. Always sparring with the brothers, fighting and playing dirty. But my hair was one of those things I enjoyed. Brushing it every night, braiding it, pretending like I am a girl and not only wearing the skin of one brings back a sliver of the old life although the memories faded long ago the ghost of a feeling still remains.

Moving towards the bedroom door it creaked open enough to poke my head out scouting the hallway. Not a soul in sight, my feet moved automatically, soundless steps carrying me to Fathers office. Pulling at the handle, locked.

Good thing about cargo pants is that they have many useful pockets. Taking out the lock picking kit I get to work fiddling for a minute until it gives the most beautiful clicking noise of a job well done.

Pressing on the door knob again it lets go and the door opens revealing a dark room with one light on the wooden old desk on. The armchair was placed at an angle and some books stacked at one end of the room. Quickly glancing around I pursue the mission.

Standing at the desk my brows crinkle in confusion. Vetting reports. Many vetting reports neatly stacked right in the middle of the desk. Opening one up the picture of an unknown man. I shake my head as my brows crinkle. I vetted every single man for my father. It was my job sitting nose deep in paperwork while the physical hunting and killing was a job for the brothers. Shoving the top file to the floor I flip open the next one with the same result and the next and every one that follows.

Anger boiling up my veins. Liars. They want to keep me in the dark. There's no doubt in my mind all of this is in relation to that night. Everything went radio silent from that day on. At this point I do not care if Father knows I'm snooping around. In fact if he thinks I am figuring it out he might slip up. My curiosity takes over anyways as my hands begin to fiddle with the locked drawers to the right of the arm chair. After a couple of tries it too opens up. Revealing an A4 size envelope stamped with the crest of the rival Mafia the wax trailed down the page making it look like it's bleeding.

Delicately I pick it up and open it without breaking the seal. The page inside would definitely fit into a regular envelope. What a waste. It has words written in crimson red. Blood my instinct tells me.

'Her or it continues' A fingerprint is stamped right below it. With a smudge trailing to the edge of the page. My palms go numb letting the page slip out of my hands. Unaware of how long I blanked out for the next thing I know sets of footsteps are getting closer. Not thinking twice about it I push the drawer closed and hurry behind the couch that stands unused on the other side of the room and duck. Being small comes in handy in situations like this.

The door slams open with three sets of feet marching in. Standing almost in the threshold their argument begins.

"How did this happen, son? Did I not tell you to take care of it!" He booms louder than ever. As many times as the rage was directed at me I had the feeling it never got to be as bad as it was for them. Especially for Alesso. Being the oldest son and the one to inherit the entire empire, the expectation of what one man should be able to do is exceptionally unreasonable.

"You know what they want." He continues. "They will get it one way or another. For now we can still make demands." He shuffles deeper into the room realising the mess left behind. "For once think with your head and not your dick! Or else I will make the decision and we both know what it will be." As he storms out of the room he says "And clean up this mess, Alessandro." His steps disappeared into the distance and the breath I didn't realise was held up in my lungs I let out sagging into the cold ground still behind the sofa.

"Come out now." No matter how well I hide he always finds me. Raising from behind the couch I scan his appearance. The white shirt, three buttons undone, ties nowhere to be seen. Blood splatters visible on his palm, shoes dirty with mud. He met with them. Quickly walking around the couch I now stood in front of him at an arm's reach staring right in the eyes deep inside concerned. Instead of speaking I just stare as my breathing slightly picks up at the mischievous look he gives me.

He rubs his two day stubble shaking his head. "I'm fine, no need to ask."

"Good, then answer my question." I bump him with my shoulder as I walk by towards Fathers desk. "What they want is me." I begin to study the content of the drawers in more detail, finding a little bubble wrap. Before I let the plastic roll I can see the dried up blood at the edges and disgust paints my face. "Why haven't they got their payment yet?" My gaze rose from the desk to him for a brief moment as the item fell into the drawer rolling a little to the back. A finger. One with the family ring on. There was only a handful of people that wore it. Panic must flash in my face as Alesso rasps out. "Antonio." A breath of relief lets my shoulders sag.

The way he stood there all angry and annoyed and righteous. Those black eyes staring back at me. The lips pressed together forming a thin line with the rouge strands of hair hanging down his forehead while the rest is neatly styled out of his face.

"Father wanted me to find this." I state lifting the note scowling at the cut off appendage.

I walked over to him once again. Standing at an arm's reach feeling his eyes burning into me. For a second the world stopped moving. Staring at his chest images of our first and last time together sped up my breathing and made me stand a little straighter. He reached for my hand but shaking my head I refused pulling it back.

"Let me leave, Alesso" I looked deeply into his eyes with my emotionless facade in full force. I could put up fences, walls and even galaxies between us. But as soon as his fingers held the back of my neck and his thumb tilted my jaw upwards. There was no distance between us that could prevent it all from crumbling down. If anything gave my arousal away was the pulse he held his hand on speeding up along with my breathing as my lips parted. The pain in his eyes said more than the most cruel Shakespearerian plays. My own arm held onto his as his palm began to squeeze my throat. Without noticing he came closer, almost touching our bodies. I could feel a shiver running down my back as his breath tickled my face.

His lips hovered in front of mine. "Last time." He whispered before sealing his lips with mine in a hungry kiss. He turns us around with his other hand now pressing onto my lower back. We take a couple of steps back, never breaking the kiss. His dominance is overpowering. Not anything like our last kiss. It became almost painful as he devoured my lips. He lost the grip on my neck right before he trailed kisses over my exposed flesh as his fingers touched every part of me. He sucks on my sweet spot and my breath hitches in my throat holding onto his hair with one hand tugging at it.

A second later he pulls back and spins me around with no warning. The desk is right in front of me as he pushes me onto it. Moving closer if that is even physically possible and kissing my neck hungrily he pulls at my top. A gasp leaves my lips. Next his hand trails down south unbuckling my pants.

"No." I whisper, holding his one hand with both of mine shaking my head. 

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