prologue , psycho killer

DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE? To have your own father—someone who kills for a living—call you a psychopath? It's almost poetic, isn't it? The man who orders death like he's flipping through a menu... judging her for my nature.

   Ridiculous, right? But what's more insane is that he didn't stop there. He trained her—turned her into a weapon.

   He taught a fucking psychopath how to be a lethal criminal. "Throw it!" Gabriele barked, his voice sharp, cutting through the silence. He stood a distance away, an apple balanced on top of his head, eyes locked on his daughter.

   Idalia's cold, expressionless gaze never wavered. Without hesitation, she flicked her wrist, the throwing star slicing through the air. It whizzed dangerously close to Gabriele's head, embedding itself into the apple, which flew back and stuck in the tree trunk behind him with a solid thud.

   For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Gabriele turned his head slowly, staring at the apple now pinned to the bark. His pulse quickened—he'd been sure she might miss. A part of him feared she wouldn't. But this was no accident. Not with her.

   He plucked the throwing star and apple from the tree, walking back toward Idalia. His steps were measured, his eyes never leaving hers. When he stopped in front of her, his voice was calm, detached.

   "Neutral," he said, his face unreadable. Idalia's stare remained empty, unmoved. Just like always.

   Idalia's hand shot up, quick and deliberate, snatching the throwing star from her father's grasp. The blade nicked his finger, a thin line of blood appearing almost instantly. Gabrielle winced, a brief flash of pain crossing his face, but he said nothing.

   He glanced down at the small wound, rubbing the blood between his fingers. When he looked back up, his daughter was already turning away, her back to him, as if the entire exchange meant nothing.

   The woods were quiet as she disappeared into the trees, her movements calm, unhurried. Gabriele stood there, watching her retreat. No words of acknowledgment. No remorse. Just cold, calculated indifference.

   Alone, he wiped the blood off on his coat, staring after her as she faded into the distance, leaving him behind to walk the path back home—alone. Once Idalia reached the back door of her home, she spotted Leona and Victor waiting for her.

   "Mein Lieblingsmädchen," (My favorite girl,) Leona greeted, her voice smooth, a smirk playing on her lips as Idalia approached. "What were you doing in the woods? Hiding the bodies of the kids you stashed in your basement?" Her tone was teasing, but there was an edge like she might actually be checking just to be sure.

   Idalia's face remained unreadable. "No. I was digging a hole. For the two of you," she replied flatly, without missing a beat.

   Victor sighed and rolled his eyes, his usual response to Idalia's morbid humor. As he glanced over, Gabriele appeared, walking toward them. "Boss," Victor muttered with a nod. Gabriele acknowledged him with a quick glance before heading inside, still sucking on his bleeding hand.

   Leona's eyes narrowed as she watched him pass. "Cut himself?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she eyed the throwing star still clutched in Idalia's hand.

   Idalia tilted her head slightly, her voice equally sharp. "Gabriele would never dare harm his perfect, pretty hands." She shrugged casually and pushed open the door. "That's my job."

   She stepped inside, the two of them following closely behind, and shut the door with a quiet click. "Right," Victor said, sinking into a chair with a groan. "So, are we heading to the academy together?"

"We usually do," Idalia replied, her voice flat as she absentmindedly ruffled his messy hair. "What, did you just roll out of bed with Amy? Or maybe Carmela?" Her tone was laced with a hint of mockery. Victor had a well-known reputation for his escapades within their group. Leona's lips twitched into a quiet grin.

Victor threw his head back, rolling his eyes. "Amy wishes she could share a bed with me."

Leona snorted, correcting him with a smirk. "More like you wish you could share a bed with Amy." Victor and Leona exchanged glances, making exaggerated, sarcastic faces at each other like petulant children. Idalia, ignoring their antics, moved silently to the counter where she fixed her gaze on a framed photograph—her mother.

An impulse surged through her as she pulled a lighter from her pocket, contemplating setting the photo ablaze. "Dalia!" Leona's voice cut through the tension as she grabbed Idalia's arm, halting the photo's descent toward the flame.

"Let go of me," Idalia warned, her voice icy.

Leona sighed, yanking the picture away from the lighter. "She's still your mom. Don't do something you'll regret." She placed the photo back on the counter. Idalia let the flame from the lighter die out with a soft puff before exhaling heavily.

"We should leave today," Idalia said, her tone weary. "I'm done with this place."

"You're always done with this place. Nothing's changed," Victor muttered.

"Stai zitta, Diavolo," (Shut the hell up,) Idalia snapped in Italian, making Victor shrug dismissively, his lack of understanding clear. "Let's go. Now." Grumbling in annoyance, Victor and Leona gathered their things and helped Idalia take them downstairs to the car.

Gabriele appeared midway through the loading process. "Leaving today?" he asked, his gaze steady as Idalia walked past him, grabbing a bag.

"Yeah. I'm tired of your presence," she shot back, her tone blunt. Before she could turn away, Gabriele's hand clamped down on her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. Idalia's gaze remained impassive.

"Don't get cheeky," he said, his voice low and commanding, still gripping her face tightly. As footsteps descended the stairs, Idalia yanked his arm away with equal force, turning on her heel and tossing the bag into the car with a determined slam of the trunk.

Soon, her friends emerged. "We're picking up Leo on the way, right?" Leona asked, closing the trunk of the convertible. Gabriele watched as the kids flung open the doors of the topless car. Leona climbed into the driver's seat with a teasing grin. "So you two can make out in the backseat."

Idalia and Victor slid into the backseat of the convertible. As Leona turned the key, the engine roared to life, and the car jolted forward. Idalia cast a fleeting glance back at her father before focusing on Victor. She reached for his face, pulling him close, and their lips met in a kiss. Victor responded without hesitation, fully immersed in the moment. The wind began to whip through the open top, adding a wild, exhilarating edge to their embrace.

Her father's frustration simmered beneath the surface; he detested the lack of control over the small details, like how Idalia interacted with boys. As Leona drove away, the convertible sped down the road, and Idalia and Victor's kiss deepened. The wind surged through the open top, mingling with their passion as the world blurred by.