Cover - 'Qissa E Khayali' on Instagram
Sinscared Series #1
A forbidden love.
A betrayal lurking in the shadows.
And a world built on blood, deception, and vengeance.
Serafina Moretti, the fierce underboss of the Italian mafia, has never let love...
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The sunlight filtered lazily through my window, casting a faint golden hue over everything it touched. I let out a groan as my alarm blared—another day, another endless list of duties to attend to. I rolled over, silencing the alarm with a sharp slap.
For a moment, I allowed myself the luxury of staying in bed, staring at the ceiling and contemplating nothing.
Uni was the last place I wanted to be today, but it was part of the routine. Get up, show up, and pretend like I wasn't drowning in everything.
I tossed the covers aside and walked over to the wardrobe, grabbing a pair of worn jeans and a simple black t-shirt.
Casual, like always.
There was no need to dress up or put in the effort, especially when it felt like life was just a series of never-ending responsibilities.
My hair hung loose around my shoulders, and I barely glanced in the mirror before tying up my boots.
The reflection staring back was familiar but distant, like I was looking at someone else entirely.
Just as I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, the door to my room flew open with a loud bang, hitting the wall hard enough to leave a mark.
I spun around, adrenaline surging through me as my hand instinctively reached for the knife I kept hidden in my boot.
But it was just Lucien, standing there with a wild look in his eyes.
"What the hell?" I hissed, heart still pounding in my chest. "Do you have any idea how to knock?"
Lucien's face was set in stone, his voice a little too tight as he ignored my question. "There's no time. I got a call from Grandma Bianca."
My stomach dropped. "What's wrong? Is she okay?" The words left my mouth before I could even think.
He shook his head, already moving back towards the hallway. "I don't know, she didn't say much. Just told us to get to the estate immediately."
Fear clawed at me. Bianca never called out of the blue unless it was serious. Something had to be wrong.
Without another word, I threw my jacket on and followed Lucien out of the room.
We rushed down the stairs and out of the front door where Raphael, Lucien's right-hand man, was waiting in the car.
His hands gripped the steering wheel like he was bracing for something, and my own nerves were already shot.
The ride to the Moretti estate felt endless. The entire time, I sat rigid, my thoughts running a mile a minute.
Was Grandma Bianca sick? Hurt? Something worse? The guilt gnawed at me.
