Men are power-hungry dogs.

They'll do anything to make others feel vulnerable around them and relish the warmth that radiates from that fear, savoring it like a fine wine on their tongues.

How utterly pathetic is this display of dominance?

Every time I dwell on this revolting truth, I have to scoff bitterly, or I have to suppress the overwhelming urge to drag a blade across their throats when they stand before me and pontificate as if they're divine beings towering above my existence.

I often fantasize about it, just slaughtering the men who surround me and vanishing from this godforsaken place without a trace. 

Since I couldn't execute that beautiful fantasy—because the knife would inevitably turn toward my own throat in retaliation—I clench my jaw and endure the tasks I don't even want to perform, swallowing my rage like bitter poison.

I do like to kill. I do crave the sight of blood.

The hot blood dripping from my hands when I kill someone brutally, it still gives me high.

But I despise it when someone commands me to spill it. I will kill for the sheer sport of it, or simply irritate me enough, and you'll face the most horrifying consequences you never even conjured in your most twisted nightmares.

It's been three years since I began working for Shadowclaw from the dark Not beneath the glaring spotlight, but concealed within the void, because a woman engaging in such brutal activities in Stirpe is absolutely unacceptable.

The Stirpe clan is one of the oldest mafia dynasties in Italy. They worship bloodline above all else. Family is their sacred priority, the first thing they would bleed and die to protect.

I still don't know how many people comprise my sprawling family tree. If I attend some elaborate gatherings or lavish wedding ceremonies, my father gestures broadly and informs me that every single person present is our family.

He often delivers these what-the-fuck moments without the slightest awareness of how absurd they sound.

No outsiders are permitted entry into our family—that's the ironclad rule. If someone betrays us, then they must answer with their blood, along with the blood of their entire families, every last one of them.

It's ruthless and merciless, but it grants them immeasurable power by forcing others to tremble in fear at the mere mention of our name. 

We've forged alliances with some Bratva organizations, Albanian syndicates, and one or two Yakuza families. 

I assumed I'd be shipped off to the Albanians since a man named Ramiz from Tirana was cozy with my father, practically inseparable. I thought I’d eventually marry Ramiz’s son Ilir.

But suddenly my engagement materialized with Leo DeLuca—the constant pain in my ass for the past twenty fucking years.

My father is a distinguished corporate man on the surface while drowning neck-deep in mafia depravity beneath it.

My family is drenched in blood, reeking of it. That's the only accurate phrase to describe them.

I gulp down my favorite Stolichnaya Elit, letting the expensive vodka burn a scorching path down my throat. Meanwhile, my thumb keeps rolling over the ring bearing our Mafia crest, positioned right alongside my engagement ring.

My hips sway rhythmically with the pulsing music I'm solely focusing on right now, losing myself in the hypnotic beat. 

My ass grinds deliberately against Leo, who's burning holes into the back of my skull with his murderous glare from behind.

Who the hell cares?

It's my night to celebrate my own damn freedom. If anyone dares to obstruct my path, I don't care if it's family or my insufferable fiancé, I'll slaughter them without an ounce of mercy.

"What the hell are you doing, Ciana?" Leo's carefully controlled voice penetrates through the music, reaching my ears with precision.

He is always maddeningly in control, unlike my chaotic nature. The authority radiating from his single penetrating glance will make grown men piss themselves in terror. That particular brand of formidable man is currently serving as my babysitter tonight.

I look over my shoulder. "Trying to have some fun. Oh, I forgot such frivolous words don't exist anywhere in your sorry ass dictionary." I shrug my shoulders dismissively and continue dancing across the crowded floor, refusing to acknowledge his disapproval.

Leo's large hands find my waist possessively, anchoring me in place. But he allows me to move however I desire without any genuine restraint, his grip paradoxically both confining and permissive.

It was my impulsive idea to drag my cousins here along with Leo. I thought it would be thrilling entertainment, but every single one of them scattered in different directions the moment they stepped through the club's entrance.

What a collection of tiresome people to endure.

Now I'm trapped here with Leo and his suffocatingly possessive ass hovering over me.

His grip on my waist suddenly tightens with bruising intensity. Before I can hurl a curse in his direction, he spins me around and crashes his mouth against mine.

I groan in pure irritation, slapping my hands against his solid chest to shove him backward. But his hands seize my waist so mercilessly that I can't move even an inch, locked completely in his iron grip.

I roll my eyes in exasperation and reluctantly indulge his sudden horniness. I clutch his shirt and kiss him back with equal ferocity. 

Nothing about this moment is sweet or gentle or remotely tender. The kiss is a brutal clash of teeth and tongue, a war neither of us intends to surrender.

This infuriating motherfucker always attempts to dominate me in every conceivable aspect of our twisted relationship. 

My nails dig into the flesh on his chest, carving crescent moons into his skin. He doesn't even flinch at the pain, worse, he deepens the kiss with ruthless determination, conquering every inch of my mouth.

The airflow is severed abruptly in my windpipe as he grabs my throat with authority to tilt my head back at a vulnerable angle. He tastes every hidden corner of my mouth, claiming it as his own territory.

I suddenly feel dangerously dizzy from the severe lack of oxygen flooding my system. My hand balls into a tight fist and slams against his chest repeatedly to push him away from me. He doesn't budge even a fraction of an inch.

Just as I'm seriously contemplating driving my knee straight into his balls, he bites down hard on my bottom lip and finally releases me from his suffocating hold. 

I suck in deep, desperate breaths to fill my starving lungs with precious air. Only then do I realize how much thick nicotine is contaminating this polluted air around us.

I choke immediately, coughing harshly while still clutching his shirt for balance. Leo releases me completely, stepping back with infuriating casualness.

The sheer audacity of this asshole.

"We're leaving. I'll go grab the others. Stay right here." He commands, his tone dripping with both authoritative order and lethal warning wrapped together.

When I pivot around to head toward the bar to grab another much-needed vodka shot, Leo's hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist and yanking me back against his solid chest with possessive force.

"What now, genius?" I snap, my lungs still burning with the nicotine I inhaled mere seconds ago.

He dips closer, his lips caressing along my flushed cheek. "Happy Birthday," he murmurs against my skin and plants a soft kiss on my cheek before finally releasing me.

"Yeah, try to suffocate me to death and then tell me happy birthday in the next breath. You're suffering from far worse mood swings than I experience during my period, Leo."

He smirks with dangerous satisfaction and walks away from me with confident strides. 

I exhale shakily and scan the crowd for my family members scattered throughout the club. 

The first one who captures my attention is Tony, who's sitting arrogantly among a dozen scantily-clad women in the VIP lounge, basking in their adoration.

For fuck's sake, he's underage. My hand clenches into a white-knuckled fist at my side as I stride toward him with mounting fury.

"Get up. Now." The irritation in my voice is palpable, crackling through the air like electricity.

The women draped around him are the ones who notice my approach first and cast condescending, dismissive looks in my direction, sizing me up like I'm an inconvenient interruption.

"He won't, Missy," a brunette responds with saccharine sweetness dripping from her painted lips.

I take a threatening step toward her with violent intent, but Tony springs to his feet before I can get close enough to make good on my murderous thoughts. 

"Ladies, I must take my leave. Thank you for keeping me company tonight." He positions himself beside me. "I don't particularly want to witness any unnecessary bloodbath today, princess," he remarks mockingly and attempts to walk past me with casual indifference.

My hand shoots out lightning-fast, grabbing the hood of his cloth and pulling him backward with a sudden, vicious tug that nearly sends him stumbling.

"You little shit, stay the hell away from the women you encounter in these clubs. Don't get them pregnant and get yourself killed by your brother when he discovers your stupidity." I warn him, but he barely acknowledges my threatening words with even a flicker of concern.

Tony DeLuca is Leo's little brother. Still a high schooler living recklessly, but always acting as if he's lived ten additional lifetimes before us, carrying wisdom he hasn't earned. 

He's nothing but a shameless casanova in training. He won't touch alcohol or ever smoke a cigarette, maintaining that one virtuous boundary. But he craves being positioned in the center of attention among giggling girls. 

His natural charm and good looks always help him achieve that effortlessly.

Leo possesses a handsome face too, blessed with the same genetic perfection, but the tight, controlled expression etched across his features never allows any women to gather courage to approach him boldly. 

He's cute when he smiles, but I've only witnessed him smile a few times in all the years I've known his guarded existence.

He has deep dimples that could make hearts stop, but that uptight man never weaponizes them on any woman. Not even on me, his own fiancée. 

Maybe if he deployed that secret weapon, one day I might accidentally fall in love with him despite my best efforts. Doesn't matter that he's my fiancé or that we'll get married when the predetermined time arrives. 

We're merely acting like we exist in some casual physical relationship, nothing deeper binding us together emotionally.

I don't know what complex thoughts occupy his mind, but I've never felt anything remotely resembling love for him until this very moment.

"Don't worry your pretty head, my sweet sledgehammer," Tony drawls, turning around dramatically and waving flirtatiously at yet another captivated woman across the room.

Suddenly the entire crowd erupts, starting to yell the countdown with building excitement.

The new year's about to strike and I'm simultaneously about to turn twenty-one tonight, crossing that arbitrary threshold into official adulthood.

The DJ cuts off the pulsing music and allows the crowd to have their traditional moment of celebration.

Three! Two! One!

Everyone screams "Happy New Year!" with collective joy and the DJ immediately resumes playing the music just as the countdown finishes its final second.

I snatch a glass of…whatever mysterious alcohol the passing waiter holds balanced on his tray when he glides past me. I throw it down my throat without hesitation, welcoming the familiar burn.

"Happy birthday to me," I whisper quietly to myself, the words disappearing into the chaos surrounding me.

Someone taps insistently on my shoulder. Leo's already returned? With a careless shrug of my shoulders, I chug the remaining alcohol still sloshing in my hand and pivot around to face him. 

Without waiting for any words to pass between us, I kiss him with the same fierce intensity he kissed me mere minutes ago, claiming his mouth with possessive hunger.

He doesn't kiss me back, though, remaining still beneath my lips. I don't understand what's suddenly wrong with him, what invisible line I've crossed. My hand brushes along his body, traveling upward to his neck, mapping familiar territory.

I pull back just enough to speak against his mouth, our breaths mingling. "Happy new year, Leo. Hope you'll have a year ahead. But don't worry. You're starting this year from my lips, so of course, it would be absolutely delightful." I smirk wickedly against his unresponsive lips, tasting triumph.

My fingers suddenly encounter something unexpected on his neck—a raised ridge of damaged skin.

A scar?

I don't recall Leo having any scar on his neck, certainly not one this prominent that I would have missed.

"C, where's Ezio? Uncle Carlo's calling me for him." Tony's urgent shout faintly reaches my ear through the pounding music, shattering my confusion.

I whirl around toward his voice. "I'll search for him. Stay here." I command and turn back to Leo, but he's vanished completely.

What the hell?

I click my tongue in mounting frustration and move to look for Ezio, weaving through the intoxicated crowd. I step into the secluded corridor where the private rooms are allocated exclusively for the VIP clients, the music becoming muffled behind heavy doors.

"Ezio!" I call out to him with increasing urgency. But there's absolutely no response echoing back to me. Then I hear a desperate, terrified whimper that unmistakably resembles my little sister's voice.

"Let me go. Please." I confirm with sickening certainty that it's Gia's frightened voice trembling through the door.

I shove open the door and witness a revolting old bastard grabbing Gia's delicate hand while casually drinking, acting as if he owns her. She's squirming helplessly on his side, her innocent eyes brimming with unshed tears threatening to spill.

Something feral inside me snaps with explosive rage. "Let her go. Now."

My voice, dripping with lethal promise, captures that disgusting old man's wandering attention. "Who are you?" he questions me with that repulsive smirk stretching across his weathered face, showing off his tacky golden tooth as if it's supposed to impress me.

Me?

I can purchase an entire jewelry empire if I want , but this pathetic geezer thinks a single gold tooth makes him somebody worth respecting.

"Doesn't matter who I am. She clearly isn't interested in your attention. So release her before I do something you'll regret for whatever remaining time you have." I take slow, calculated steps toward him.

Gia whimpers again as his gnarled grip on her wrist visibly tightens, leaving red marks blooming on her pale skin.

I release a frustrated sigh and snatch a fork positioned in front of him on the table, without allowing myself a moment's hesitation or second thought, I sink the sharp tines deep into his flabby arm with vicious satisfaction.

His rheumy eyes widen dramatically as he struggles to process what just transpired. Then he releases a pathetic, painful groan that brings me dark pleasure. Instinctively, he releases his bruising hold on her hand, cradling his bleeding arm.

Blood slowly drenches his sleeve.

"If you want to touch someone, you should know who they are first, you worthless asshole. If I ever see you again, that will be your final day breathing." I grab Gia's trembling arm and drag her out of that contaminated private room.

"I don't know if she's actually my sister sometimes. Doesn't even know how to protect herself from a pathetic old man." I keep mumbling bitterly to myself and drag her out of the suffocating club into the cold night air.

Tony's already outside, standing near our sleek black Limo, his breath visible in the winter air.

"Where are Leo and Ezio?" I demand, releasing my grip on Gia's arm perhaps more roughly than intended.

"Who knows? You're the one—" His words cut off abruptly as Ezio stumbles directly into me with his full weight. 

Tony erupts with laughter as I nearly crash to the frozen ground.

"What the hell do you want? Where did you disappear to?" I snap at Ezio, steadying both of us.

He keeps giggling at me like an imbecile, looking completely disconnected from reality.

I give him a deeply suspicious look and shift my gaze to Leo. "Drugs?"

Leo shakes his head with certainty. "Just four or five cigarettes, nothing stronger."

"Then why the hell is he acting like he's flying high on something? Come back to the land of the living, Ezio Moretti." I tug his shirt, trying to ground him.

"I'm here, C. I don't do drugs, you know that about me. It's just…I can't stop thinking about the woman I met back in the alley behind the club." He grins widely enough to illuminate the whole of Manhattan with his dopey expression.

I can't tolerate looking at this pathetic display anymore. "Get in." I gesture curtly to Gia. She steps obediently into the Limo without any protest or argument. Her eyes remain bloodshot and the tears still cling stubbornly to her lower lashes, refusing to fall.

After everyone finally settles into our designated seats, the car begins to move smoothly through the nearly empty streets.

"Happy birthday, C." Ezio embraces me sideways with genuine affection, his arm heavy around my shoulders.

"Yeah," I breathe out wearily and lean against the leather backrest, suddenly feeling every ounce of exhaustion.

"Ohhhh, I completely forgot about that. Happy birthday, Future Sister-in-law." Tony grins mischievously and springs to his feet to approach me across the moving vehicle.

"Sit your ass down." Leo shoots him a murderous glare that could freeze blood. Tony raises both hands in an exaggerated mock surrender and drops back into his seat with theatrical compliance.

Everything falls into silence. No one wants to break the fragile silence either, each lost in private thoughts. 

Releasing a long, exhausted exhale, I rest my head on Ezio's solid shoulder, seeking comfort.

He shifts lower on the seat to accommodate me better. "What happened?"

"Nothing," I whisper faintly, refusing to tell him what transpired mere moments ago in that room.

The drive is taking too long for my impatient liking. I should have brought my car instead of riding in this crawling snail masquerading as transportation.

After thirty agonizing minutes of driving through empty streets, the glowing buildings finally come into my sight, illuminated against the dark sky. 

Moretti Estate is one of the largest privately owned lands allocated just for people like us to live in excessive luxury. The whole sprawling property consumes thirty to forty acres of prime real estate. 

With the best heavily armed guards imported from our Italy headquarters and towering compounds fortified with an extensive network of security cameras monitoring every angle…Uncle Carlo even suggested purchasing some massive Mastiff dogs for additional guard duty.

Why? To swallow me whole if I misbehave? What am I supposed to do with this family?

The car glides smoothly into the estate and the imposing iron gates close behind us with a mechanical grunt, sealing us inside.

It takes approximately more than a full minute to finally stop in front of the main building. Why are they living in this unnecessarily large place? Three separate buildings stand inside the fortified compound. 

One for each family.

One mansion is mine, the next belongs to Ezio's family, and the final one houses the DeLucas. My family is the most dramatic one among the three, thriving on chaos.

I have countless issues when it comes to the loaded word 'family.' Mommy issues that run bone-deep, anger issues, a god complex which Ezio diagnosed for me a few years ago, self-centered tendencies, attitude problems, prodigal behavior, thirst for blood, grumpy for absolutely no reason. And I willingly direct everything toward my family, especially toward my mother.

Leo and Ezio are the only two people who can control me when I spiral. Leo will use his body strength on me to physically restrain. Ezio will simply erase the problem standing in front of me before I can act.

My thumb rolls the rings on my finger restlessly, seeking distraction. The car finally stops in front of the mansion and I escape immediately, desperate for freedom.

Gia finally bursts into dramatic tears and runs into the building like her life depends on it. Probably to cry into our mother's comforting lap. 

Fucking guinea pig.

The others climb out of the Limo and the driver takes it to the garage for the night.

"Ezio, shall I sleep in your—"

Before I can finish my sentence, Leo interrupts me with his deep, commanding voice. "Sleep in my room or stay in yours. Those are your options."

I look at Ezio for help.

He shrugs his shoulders. "Your fiancé. Your problem."

I throw a glare in Leo's direction. "He's my cousin, idiot."

"I don't care. I said what I said. Or—"

This time, I cut in. "Or what, Mr. Alpha male? You can't kill him without consequences. You wanna create a gang war or something?" I laugh mockingly in his face.

"I can break his hands and legs and will accept whatever punishment comes. Like you said, no one can kill me either without repercussions. That'll create a gang war too." Leo responds coolly, completely serious.

I frown deeply at his psychotic logic. "Why can't you just disappear from my life?" Turning my back on him, I walk into the building without looking back, refusing to engage further.

The time is already well past midnight. I just want to pass out on my bed and forget this entire night.

When I enter the cavernous living room, I hear the muffled sniffles echoing off the walls.

Don't look there, Ciana. Keep walking.

I keep chanting the same protective sentence in my head, turning my heels, trying to escape to my room unnoticed.

"Ciana, darling, come here." My father's warm voice makes me halt mid-step, freezing me in place.

I don't expect to see my father still awake here at this ungodly hour. I turn around reluctantly and return to the living room, discovering my whole family gathered here.

Gia, as expected, is hiding her tear-stained face into our mother's lap, crying her heart out. My father is observing her with a confused expression, not understanding the crisis.

"Didn't you sleep yet, dad?" I settle beside him heavily. "Took your tablets?"

He smiles and wraps a hand around my shoulder. "I did, Tesoro." He presses a tender kiss on the crown of my head. "Why is your sister crying?"

I roll my eyes at the theatrical display. "Just the predictable consequences of constantly hiding in someone's lap instead of learning to fight." I smirk deliberately at my mother and earn a disapproving glare from her in return.

I don't give a single flying fuck about her or those judgmental glares she weaponizes.

"What happened, Ciana?" My father coaxes me.

"A disgusting old man harassed her. I took her from the place. She's just panicking from shock. Nothing else happened to her." I exhale wearily and lean back against my father's arm comfortably, seeking his familiar warmth.

My mother's eyes widen in shock. "What? Harassed her? And you're downplaying the situation? That's your sister." She declares while holding Gia tightly against her protectively.

I silently watch the scene that's unfolding in front of me. Something sharp stabs at my heart. Something invisible and deeply buried…or I just don't want to acknowledge what's been stabbing me for the past twenty agonizing years.

I blink my eyes several times rapidly and look away, forcing distance. "It's your fault to keep her sheltered like this, weak and helpless." Then a smirk tugs cruelly on my lips and I tilt my head as I look at my mother with unveiled contempt. "Or you want her just like you. A fragile porcelain doll which is made exclusively for locking behind protective glass doors."

"Ciana, don't be like that.." My father tugs me closer, trying to soften my sharp edges.

I exhale audibly and stand abruptly from my father's embrace, rejecting comfort. I walk toward the exit with determined strides, deciding not to stay here for the remainder of the night.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, CIANA!" I shout sarcastically as I leave the living room behind.

"Tesoro, come back here. I'm sorry!" My father's desperate voice follows me but I ignore him completely, stepping out of the mansion into the cold night.

I discover Leo waiting out there, leaning against the pillar. "I knew you'd come out eventually. Come with me. My mother made dinner for you too."

"Ooo," my traitorous stomach growls loudly the moment he mentions the word food, betraying my hunger.

We walk in comfortable silence as he escorts me to their building. My occasional laughter and his usual grumpy responses slowly fade into the peaceful night behind us, swallowed by darkness.