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Chapter One
MARICELA
It's the shouting that warns me Vito is back at the house - read prison - we share in the New York Compound of La Cosa Nostra.
My stomach cramps as a wave of nausea rolls through me, causing a flush that leaves my skin clammy.
I knew he’d be back soon, but I’d really hoped I would have a few more days where I might find a way to break free during the frenzy of last-minute wedding preparations. A few days’ grace before my life is as good as over.
I almost wished my life was over.
Anything's preferable to being tied, irrevocably, to Vito Rossi, the man known in crime circles as the Viper.
Vicious, mean, and toxic; he certainly lives up to the name.
The only thing keeping me going is the slim chance of escape.
I try to calm my breathing as I prepare for his arrival. I know better than to show any signs of weakness or fear in front of him. Vito is a predator, and he can smell fear from miles away. He feeds on it.
The shouting grows louder, and I can hear his heavy footsteps approaching. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, steeling myself for what's to come.
The door to my private bedroom slams against the wall as he bursts through it, a cloud of cigar smoke trailing in his wake.
His presence loom over me, making my skin prickle, but I keep my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep until Vito grabs me by my hair and yanks my head back.
"Did you miss me?" he sneers, his putrid breath hot on my face.
I open my eyes, staring into his cold, dead ones. I don't answer him. It doesn't matter what I say or don’t say. Any kind of response will provoke him. He's one of those men who gets off on violence.
Vito's grip tightens on my hair, and he leans in closer. "I said, did you miss me?" he repeats, his voice rising.
He pulls his free arm away and I know I'm about to feel the sting from the back of his hand.
Surprisingly, the blow never comes. Vito freezing, instead, when the door bursts open again.
"Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you." Mika, Vito's nephew, the underboss, and heir of this particular branch of the La Cosa Nostra, speaks with a quiet menace any sane individual would be wary of.
Not the Viper though.
Mika narrows his eyes at me, reading the situation, and this time a wave of shame twists in my chest as he eyes his uncle with thinly veiled disgust.
How had I become this pathetic, oppressed person?
Mika's gaze lingers on Vito before returning to me, and for a moment, I think I see something like concern flicker in his eyes. But it's gone as quickly as it appears, replaced with a hard, cold expression as he addresses his uncle.
"You're ruining the Famiglia's name, Vito," Mika spits, his voice full of latent fury.
Vito releases my hair, turning to face his nephew. "What did you say to me, boy?" he hisses, his face contorting with anger.
Mika steps closer, refusing to back down. "You heard me. You're acting like an animal and tarnishing our family's reputation. I won't stand by and watch you destroy all we've built. What I continue to build."
The two men glare at each other, the tension in the room thick and dangerous.
"It's none of your fucking business," Vito growls, his hand hovering in the air as if he might still lash out.
Mika raises his eyebrows. "Everything that happens in this house is my business, Uncle. You know that."
They stand there for a moment, their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. I try to sneak a peek at Mika's face, but all I can see is his profile and the way he holds himself, like a coiled predator, ready to strike at any second. He's not as tall and bulked out as a lot of the men, I guess because he's so young, still in his early twenties, but he has a lean athleticism and I've seen him take down men twice his size. His speed is the stuff of legends, and more often than not his opponents are down before they know what's coming.
