I didn't exactly choose to be stolen at four years old.
But the French underworld isn't big on consent.
One minute I was Donatella Acardi, Mafia royalty. The next? Just another stolen kid bleeding in someone else's basement.
That's where I met Ami...
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Donatella POV:
The lock clicked.
Sharp. Heavy. Final.
I knew that sound.
Armando stepped back from the door like a priest closing a coffin.
My hand was already sliding to my thigh holster before he turned around.
Click.
The familiar chill of metal in my grip as my pistol locked into place, and I didn’t even blink as I aimed it right between his eyes. Across from me, Amir was already up, his own weapon trained in flawless synchronicity. Fluid, fast, silent. As always.
Six guns clicked back in response.
Leonardo, Dante, Nicolo, Enzo, Gino—hell, even wide-eyed Luca—stood from their seats like synchronized shadows, weapons drawn, aiming dead center on us.
What a joke.
A slow, poisonous smile curled my lips beneath the mask. “Really?” I said, voice flat and unimpressed, like I was commenting on a movie I’d already seen a hundred times and hated every time. “You want to play chicken with two people who don’t blink?”
Armando, unfazed, held up a hand, not to surrender—but to slow the rising heat in the room.
“This isn’t a threat,” he said, voice calm, low, and entirely too casual for someone with a pistol aimed at his head. “It’s a proposition.”
“Forgive us,” Amir said coldly, not lowering his gun. “We tend to get jumpy when locked in rooms surrounded by armed men.”
Armando didn’t flinch. “You’ve killed in worse scenarios. I figured this was polite.”
I tilted my head just a bit. “Your definition of polite needs some... finessing.”
Dante’s gun hand twitched. Just a little. Just enough for me to notice. I didn’t move. Didn’t react. But my brain already filed it away. If this went south, he’d be the first to go.
“I’m asking for something simple,” Armando said. “An alliance. You two, with us.”
“No,” I said.
He blinked. “You haven’t even heard the offer—”
“I don’t need to.” I cocked the pistol without breaking eye contact. “I don’t join hands with men who try to lock me in a box before asking me to dance.”
Dante scoffed. “You’re really willing to throw away an offer from us?”
“You’re really willing to point a gun at us like you matter?” I snapped.
Leonardo stepped forward slowly, weapon steady. “You know who we are.”
“Unfortunately,” Amir said blandly, “yes. We’ve read your files.”
