He snarled, “Mafia queen, you don’t call the shots here. You’re as good as dead.”
Then he kicked her in the stomach, treating her like nothing.
“Stop!” my brother and I shouted again and again.
“Your husband disgraces Italians. He married outside our race. To a fucking black cunt.”
My mother curled inward, shivering as he kept hurting her.
The young one’s eyes locked onto mine, captivated as tears traced silent paths down my face. It was as if he had been waiting for this moment to shatter me.
I slipped my hand into my shoe, fingers closing around the cold handle of my knife. “Please don’t hurt me,” I whispered.
His thumb brushed softly against my quivering lower lip.
“I bet you’re a virgin,” he murmured.
With deliberate slowness, I flicked the switchblade open.
The distant screams of my mother and the sobs of my brother faded into nothingness.
“I am,” I said, a smirk curling at the edge of my mouth.
“Bruciare all’inferno. Burn in hell.” I dragged the blade across his throat.
I moved swiftly, ignoring the stunned look frozen on his face. Leaning in, I hammered the knife into the bully’s legs repeatedly. He spun around, pulling a Glock and aiming it at me. I twisted aside just in time, the bullet whizzing past. I lunged forward, driving the knife into his chest over and over.
“You tried to kill us,” I shouted.
“It’s over, Serenity,” a familiar voice cut through.
I strained to see who it was.
“Give me the knife, Serenity.”
Clutching it tightly, I edged closer to the chair opposite Mom. I stretched out the knife, baring my teeth at Lux. “Stay back.”
My eyes flicked left. The man in the chair slumped, blood streaming from his severed neck. I rushed to him, stabbing relentlessly. “You won’t hurt my mother anymore,” I cried repeatedly, tears trailing down my face.
“Mommy,” I screamed at the top of my lungs.
“I’m here, baby. Put the knife down.”
“No, no, no. Dad said I must always protect my family.”
“You’ve protected us. We’re safe.”
Straddling the lifeless body, I glanced over my shoulder and locked eyes with Mom. Blood pooled beneath her, and I broke down again, stabbing the man’s face repeatedly.
Suddenly, everything went dark. When I regained consciousness, I tried to move my arms and realized they were bound tightly in a straitjacket. My eyes scanned the padded walls around me.
“Mom, Dad, Krew,” I cried out repeatedly.
After days of heavy medication, sessions with a psychiatrist, and attending group therapy, I was finally discharged. Those seventy-two hours felt unbearably long. Dad came to pick me up from the psychiatric hospital and filled me in on what had happened. We lost control of our Newark territory and most of our bodyguards. Only four remained, including Big Lux—who had been shot three times and left for dead. He had been waiting for the right moment to strike. When I finally lost control, Big Lux ended up killing the asshole in the chair. Dad then took me to visit Mom, who was recovering in our hidden underground hospital.
Mom had lost my little sister. The doctor delivered her, but she was stillborn. I was so devastated that Dad didn’t even need to remind me to take my medication—I took it without hesitation, desperate to keep my mind intact.
Dad relocated us to Elizabeth, New Jersey. We were under the protection of the five families on Mafia boss Sergio Magarelli’s order.
