"Nobody is allowed between these pretty little thighs but me....and if anyone tries...𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦."
~
They call him The King-a ghost who rules the world's most powerful mafia from the shadows. No face. No mercy. No mistakes.
And beside...
-"She had this look on her face that made you wonder how many people she's killed. And this grin that made you realize that she's probably lost count."-
_____________________________
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The air smelled of jasmine and river stones—soft and clean, like the kind of memory time preserved in amber.
"Shh..."
Gentle hands stroked her curls, long and wild and untamable. The little girl curled tighter into the silk-clad shoulder, face buried in the scent of sandalwood and rose oil. Her grandmother's arms were strong. Steady. They rocked her without effort, as though the world could wait.
"There you go, little dove."
Kaia's voice was low, smooth as lakewater. Skin the color of ivory moonlight, eyes the shade of melting gold. Hair like frost. She was beautiful in a way most people didn't understand—elegant without ever trying. Timeless. When she spoke, it felt like prayer.
"You'll grow fierce," she whispered, resting her cheek against the child's head. "But don't let anyone steal your softness. Power means nothing without grace."
The girl didn't respond, but her tiny fingers curled tighter in her grandmother's wrap.
From a few feet away, her grandfather Adrian sat cross-legged with his back to the window, weaving a braid into the girl's damp hair. His hands were large and weathered, the fingers nimble from years of leatherwork and stone carving. He never looked up from his task—only smiled faintly when he felt the child relax.
"One day," Kaia said softly, "you'll do anything you want, but don't forget about us now."
The girl stirred slightly, eyes blinking half-shut.
"What's my name?" she murmured, a sleepy slur.
Her grandmother kissed her forehead, white lashes brushing ivory skin.
"Your name," she said, "is Aria."
"But I want to be you."
A quiet laugh—soft and breathy.
"Then the world better be ready."
Outside the cottage window, snow began to fall. Cold. Silent. Unaware of the bloodlines it would one day bury.
♕
The world came back slowly.
No pain. No fire lacing through her spine or pounding behind her eyes. Just the steady hum of machines, the gentle hiss of oxygen, and the warmth of a calloused hand wrapped tightly around hers.
Kaia blinked. Once. Twice.
The light didn't stab like it used to. The pressure behind her eyes had dulled into something distant, manageable. Her mind—fogged for days—felt lighter now, clearer. Not healed. Not whole. But lucid.
