Mafiaso Series: Regime. Book 3

Aurora’s POV

Strength and virtues flow in blood, each drop carrying generations of honor and value. When a seed is formed what comprises its core is the very tree from which it had generated and yet here is the story of a girl who neither had the values of blood nor a single resemblance from the people bringing her to life.

Here is the tale of Aurora Waylon.

Fears and nightmares never plagued me, for I have lived years inside those hell flames and yet came out unscathed. The thought of death did not freeze me for I have accepted death a long ago, just like a soldier at war accepting the idea of a dreamless sleep but not accepting defeat.

What I had learnt in my small short life was traumatizing yet I was a victim that forgot to feel the trauma. I felt one emotion and that was loyalty.

Loyalty towards my regime.

But the very second emotion that ruled my heart was hatred. I was a product of hatred, my birth giver was a lowly prostitute and the sperm donor was a slave trader in the illegal world of human traf**cking. At the age of three I was sold to the auction but the world had its own ways of revolving and time has never been bound to anyone.

What started as my ruination was actually the beginning of a new dawn in history. I don’t remember much yet the story narrated by one of the guards that retired from the mafia dynasty told me the event word by word and I imagined it happening in front of my eyes as if a reel was playing showcasing the events of pasts.

When I was just a girl of three.

Rotten and reeking with stench for not being bathed for several days I, a child on the verge of passing out from hunger, laid at the very corner of a dingy room which had algae growing on the walls from the dirty water that seeped through the ceiling.

Cockroaches and termites ran at the very foundations of the place I was left to die, or was it?

I was collapsing and would have been awarded death but there he was, in front of my crying face, the blurry figure of a man darker than death himself. How ironic it was to be loved and cared for even when you were the most abhorrent creature.

There he was wrapping me as a bundle, his eyes full of warmth and stature lowered on knees in front of me as if he was not the emperor himself, as if I was not an abandoned hated mouse straight out of sewer and yet he had pulled me close to his comforting and safe embrace, holding me close like a treasure.

My birth givers called me useless but that god walking among the undeserving men had named me that day.

I was no longer a useless creature, I was Aurora Ajax Waylon. The only daughter of the mafia godfather Ajax Waylon who clutched me tightly in his arms as if he was afraid that I would disappear.

I was the beloved daughter of the queen of the mafia dynasty, Alaina Waylon, whom her husband loved even more than the entire universe combined.

I was the sister of the Ares Waylon who would crumble the earth into dust at my one demand.

And then I was the mafia princess born to expand my reign and rule the world.

My hatred had a meaning, a purpose, and a reason. Anyone that was a threat to my father was hated by me. I had taken an oath the moment I regained my senses.

My family was to be protected at any cost, if I was the jewel of the crown of Ajax Waylon then he, my father, was the blood flowing in my veins.

I would never love, never fall for anyone.

My regime was my duty.

But unknown to me a man with silver eyes was my weakness.