Chapter 3

Isabella’s POV

I sunk deeper into my skin as I walked down the crowded walkway without a destination in mind. I adjusted the hoodie over my head to shield my face, not that it mattered though. The sky was gloomy, and it looked like it would pour anytime soon. I didn’t particularly adore the rain, but maybe this time I wouldn’t mind it.

The weather over here was extreme. Whenever it rained, we were sure to record one casualty or ten. The last time it rained, a roof from just down the street got knocked down and killed a couple of people. Seven persons, five kids, and two adults.

So, right now, I was actually craving some rain. Maybe it would fall and wash away the nightmare that had now become my fate, or it would procure thunder that would strike the bastard who decided to purchase me with 50 million dollars, and he would drop dead, never to bother me again.

Maybe, just maybe.

I huffed as I shoved my hands into the pockets of my hoodie. I passed by a flower shop, and a distinct smell hit my nose: roses. I scrunched up my face in disgust as I continued my journey. Up until yesterday, I adored roses, but at this moment, I wasn’t quite sure.

The Black Don.

I couldn’t remember the last time I heard those words and I considered it a good thing. The very thought of him was associated with bad things, evil things that no normal human being would dare think of, and that was it. The Black Don wasn’t a human. He was a demon, cursed to plague the earth in the form of a mortal and head the mafia.

The walls held whispers of his tales, and the ground could spurt gallons and gallons of blood he’d shed over the years. So it was no secret when word got out that he’d murdered his children in cold blood, too. As if that wasn’t treacherous enough, he hung their skulls at the entrance of the Silvestri mansion.

Two beautiful boys and a daughter wasted just like that. Some say he became even more ruthless after he lost his wife to the cold hands of death. Others simply concluded that he’d murdered his wife and was preserving his life with essence from her left-over carcass. Or perhaps it was the family he set on fire because they accidentally mixed up his order. She simply used chili instead of bell peppers.

The list was endless, but one thing was sure: the Black Don was despicable, to say the least.

What did he want to do with me anyway? He was way older than Papa and should be on his deathbed by now. Seeing that he’d murdered all of his children, his reign of terror was most likely to come to an end very soon. So why? Why did he have to ruin my future?

“Maybe he’s looking to continue his line.” Senior Luigi’s words rang in my ears. “It’s been a while since we heard from the Silvestris. Perhaps he’s looking to start over again?”

Over my dead body. If that was really the case, then the old mafia could easily get a surrogate. Hell, he could even threaten her to carry his babies without paying her a dime. She wouldn’t refuse; no one dared to defy him. Some women would even see it as an opportunity.

Women in the mafia weren’t a sore sight to see, but they didn’t command a lot of authority as the men. Most times, the women and wives of the mafioso were burdened with the duty of keeping the sources of wealth of their husbands and brothers a secret. It was essential, unspoken, just like the Omerta. They knew nothing, even if it would cost them their lives, and it always did, just like Mama.

My hand snaked around the pendant that dangled around my neck. It was a heart-shaped pendant with an engraving that said farfalla. Only she called me that. If only she knew what the name had come to mean, maybe she would have taken it back.

“Hey.” I reeled forward as someone checked my shoulder hard from behind.

For a moment, I watched my life flash before my eyes until I caught myself from stumbling. I wobbled, holding on to the lamppost just next to me to get a better view of what had just happened. The damp floor seemed to move as the world spun around in circles. It took a while till I regained my balance. I blinked once, twice, to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. The familiar lights of the neighborhood shops had been replaced with a dark alley that seemed to stretch into nothing.

Lampposts in the distance flickered on and off like the littlest gust of wind would snuff them out of existence. I shuddered at the chill that ran through me despite the hoodie I was putting on. My throat felt parched as I felt the hairs on my neck stand on end. It was weird; I was alone - until I wasn’t.

Just on the other side of the road, someone stood in the darkness. His black ensemble made it hard to notice at first, but the moment you saw him, it was next to impossible to unsee him. He stood unmoving with his hands folded behind him. His face was masked, or perhaps it was so dark I couldn’t make out any of his facial features.

Time seemed to slow to a halt as we both stood, rooted to our spots, until he moved. With a movement so subtle, he jerked his head, and something stirred in me immediately. I took a step back, muttering a series of prayers under my breath as I tried to figure out what to do next. If truly we were the only ones here, then maybe I could find my way out. Hopefully.

My plan seemed to be going smoothly until my back came into contact with a wall, but the last time I checked, walls didn’t have rock-hard abs or breathe through their noses. I shouldn’t have done it, but the moment I did, I regretted it.

Without warning, I turned my head slowly. The moment I could get a good view of his side profile, a black cloth covered my nose. I tried to fight it, but the moment the sweet and sickly aroma of whatever it was wafted through my nostrils, I blanked out, but not without seeing the other man flash me a card, a black card with a golden rose on it.