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One
Prologue
The room was heavy with cigarette smoke, acrid and suffocating as it coiled up inside my lungs. A vast collection of weapons and firearms was left out in plain sight, impossible to even pretend to ignore, but that wasn’t why I felt a sudden chill run down my spine.
No.
It was the dark silhouette of a man standing by the windows, watching as the sun slowly sank below the horizon in silence, that made me feel so unnerved. Over the vast azure, the sky ignited with hues of red, purple, and gold — but even as the flames gradually began to turn dark, the man still didn’t turn around.
I stood silently by the door, unsure of how much time had passed, but knowing better than to speak without him giving me permission first. The silence slowly started to become more and more oppressive, expanding and enveloping our surroundings, so much so that I almost didn’t hear a faint murmur cutting through it.
“Are you happy here, Dahlia?”
“Sir?” I asked, unsure if I heard him correctly.
Francesco turned around and I had to stop myself from flinching back.
I couldn’t read his expression at all. That was never good.
“It’s a simple question. Are you happy here or not?”
“Of course I am, sir. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” I said, hoping that he’d be pleased with my answer.
He often liked to ask me insignificant questions such as these.
As if anything was going to change if I said that I wasn’t happy here. And if something did change, it would only be for the worse.
“Of course, you wouldn’t…” Francesco uttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. I had never seen him as quiet and solemn as he was now.
A feeling of wrongness began to coil up tightly in my chest, but I tried my best to shake it off.
“I’ve looked after you for all of these years, haven’t I?” Francesco suddenly asked, his empty eyes fixed on me. “Clothed you, fed you, given you a roof over your head…”
I never asked for any of that.
The poisonous thought ran through my mind, but I kept my mouth shut.
“There are a lot of things that I’ve done for you. Do you believe that there’s any possible way for you to pay me back for all of them?”
“No, sir,” I answered.
Francesco nodded. “You’re right, there isn’t.”
The silence lingered for a moment longer before he broke it with a heavy sigh. “But I’m a merciful man, girl. I’m going to give you a chance.”
“Of course, sir. Tell me what I need to do.”
Give me another order. Give me a thousand more, until you finally find yourself satisfied.
But all Francesco did was spit out a single name, his tone dripping with hatred and contempt.“Don Borelli.”
I could feel the loathing coming off him in waves as he led on, “If you kill him, I’ll let you go.”
“Let me go, sir?” I asked, struggling to understand what he meant.
Things like simply letting someone leave weren’t done around here, but Francesco only nodded.
“Yes. If you do this for me, I’ll relieve you of all the obligations you have towards me.”
