Chapter 1

• Chapter 1
• {CATERINA}
• “Please! Don’t do this!” Cesario whimpered as I pressed the hot knife to his wrist. His skin sizzled, the scent of burnt flesh thick in the air. His screams bounced off the walls—a melody to my ears.
• “Begging won’t save you,” I murmured, watching him writhe. “Start talking if you don’t want to lose that hand.”
• “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he stammered, his voice trembling as much as his bound hands.
• I giggled. “Lying won’t save you either.”
• I walked back to the fireplace, holding the blade to the flames until it glowed red. “Our shipment was intercepted. Who did you sell us out to? The Iron Vultures? The Silver Dagger Brotherhood?”
• Cesario’s eyes darted around the dimly lit room, looking for salvation where there was none. He whimpered but remained silent.
• “You’re wasting my time.” I stalked toward him, pressing the red-hot blade to his arm. His screams ripped through the air, his body jerking violently against the restraints.
• “Alright! Stop!” he sobbed. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this!”
• I arched a brow. “So you did talk. Who was it?”
• His chest heaved. Sweat dripped down his temple. “Dante Bellarosa...”
• I smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “Go on.”
• “He cornered me at the casino,” Cesario choked out. “I owed him money. He promised to clear my debts if I gave him the details.” His lip quivered. “I didn’t think he’d go this far.”
• I cupped his bloodied face, forcing him to meet my gaze. “You didn’t think betraying us—betraying me—would have consequences?”
• “I swear, I didn’t mean to!” he sobbed.
• “Meaning has nothing to do with it.” I grabbed a pen and paper from the table, shoving them in front of him. “Write down everything. Every name, every detail. If you leave anything out...” I trailed my fingers over the knife.
• His hands shook as he scrawled out the confession, fear bleeding into every stroke of ink. Minutes later, he held it out with pleading eyes. “It’s all there. Please, let me go.”
• I snatched the paper, scanning it briefly before folding it into my pocket. “Are you sure you didn’t leave anything out?”
• He nodded frantically. “Yes! I swear!”
• I leaned down, tilting his chin up so he was looking right at me. “Did you really think I’d let you go just because you cooperated?”
• His face went pale. “No—no! You promised—”
• I sighed. “I never promised to spare you. I just wanted the details.” I straightened. “Your fate was sealed the moment you betrayed the gang.”
• “Alda, please,” he cried. “You need me! I—I can still be useful—”
• I turned toward the door, where two of my men stood waiting. “You know what to do.”
• The guards nodded.
• The moment I stepped into the hallway, Cesario’s gut-wrenching screams filled the air. A deep satisfaction settled in my chest as I walked away.
• A few steps later, I spotted Ricco standing at the end of the corridor, arms crossed.
• “Alda,” he called.
• I arched a brow. “Ricco.”
• “Your father wants to see you in his office. Immediately.”
• I exhaled, rolling my shoulders. “Of course, he does.”
• I had planned to shower first, but whatever this was, it clearly couldn’t wait. That alone was enough to make me curious.
• “Alright,” I said, gesturing for Ricco to lead the way.
• As I followed him, I found myself wondering—what could be so urgent?
• It took us a few minutes to get there because my father’s office was in an entirely different part of the mansion. He liked peace and quiet while working, so he chose the most secluded place to build it.
• Ricco knocked on the heavy wooden doors before announcing my presence. “Alda is here, Don Gio. She'll be coming in now.”
• He pushed the doors open, and I stepped inside.
• The office was as imposing as ever—dark oak shelves lined with books, an immaculate desk at the center, and the ever-present portrait of my late mother watching over the room. A faint trace of cigar smoke lingered in the air, mixing with the low hum of the air conditioner.
• “Father,” I called as I inclined my head. He looked up from the file he was reading, flashing me a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
• “Have a seat, Piccola.”
• I bit back my irritation at the nickname and sat.
• “Were you able to get the information out of Cesario?”
• “Yes,” I answered, pulling out the paper and placing it on his desk. “And he wasn’t too tough for me to handle. I did just fine.”
• My father’s eyes flickered with something unreadable before he nodded. “Good job, Piccola. You’ve been doing well these past few years. I’m proud of you.”
• A slow smirk tugged at my lips. “I learned from the best.”
• He leaned forward, his expression turning serious. “I have a mission for you.”
• I perked up at that, my smirk widening. “A mission? What is it about?”
• “It’s very important,” my father said, his tone grave. “I want you to do everything you can to make it a success. No mistakes.”
• I rolled my eyes. “When have I ever failed a mission?”
• “That’s right. You really are the best.” He handed me a file.
• I opened it to the first page. A stunning mask stared back at me—polished obsidian glinting like midnight, adorned with crimson rubies and emerald sapphires. Gold filigree traced intricate Roman symbols along its edges, and a flawless black diamond sat proudly at its center. It was beautiful, yet haunting.
• “The mask must be very significant,” I noted.
• “It is,” my father confirmed. “And that’s why I’m putting you in charge of stealing it.”
• His words made my pulse spike with anticipation. I flipped the page, and my eyes landed on the next image—a man.
• Dark hair. Hazel eyes. An air of effortless power.
• The name at the top of the page caught my attention.
• Alessandro Mateo Rodriguez.
• The name rang a bell, though I couldn't pinpoint where I’d heard it before. But that didn’t matter.
• I was going to have fun on this mission.