Alessandra has never believed in safety. Life never gave her a reason to. Pain carved her childhood, silence became her armor, and trust? That was a luxury she could never afford. So when she runs -- bloody, broken, and barely breathing, she doesn't expect saving. She certainly doesn't expect to be taken in by a family dripping in wealth and power and. . . warmth? A mother who refuses to give up on her. A father who watches like he's waiting for her to let him in. And six brothers. Rough. Protective. Complicated. Brothers, who don't know what to do with a sister who won't speak. She doesn't know how to trust. How to believe that maybe not everyone wants to hurt her. Every instinct tells her to run. To shut down. But they don't let her go. Not when she flinches. Not when she hides. Not even when she breaks. Happiness is for other people, or that's what she believes. But when love comes wrapped in gentle patience and fierce protection, when hands reach for her without demand, when hearts break themselves wide open just to hold her... she starts to wonder. Can a girl stitched together with silence and fear ever belong in a family built on love? Can she stand tall when the ghosts of her past refuse to let go? And when danger claws its way back into her life, threatening everything she's come to know... will she find her voice, or will she shatter all over again? Trigger Warnings: Child abuse. Violence. Addiction. Panic attacks. SA. Self-harm. Death, and more.

Taken from her family at the age of four, because of a deep grudge, Aria doesn't remember the place she used to call home. All she knows now, is silence and pain. All she has is her broken self, and the hope of being free one day. She's been called a curse, and she's been called worse- to the point where Aria doesn't know what is true or not. She'll never escape the hell she's in, she'll never have a home or a family, right? *Sneak peek* Aria: "Where the hell are you?!" I wake up with a jerk on the cold floor of the kitchen's store. The rope that he used to keep me there when his friends were over, bit into my skin, and was now stained with red. He had forgotten. Again. But that was a good thing, because it means I didn't get beatings last night. I tired to move, but the pain from my ankle was sending vibrations to my brain, and I winced, my back hitting the wall hard. I closed my eyes, praying he won't find me- but luck is never on my side. He opens the door, and smirks as he looks down at me. His eyes were clear, he wasn't drunk. That was bad. He made it more painful when he wasn't. He undid the rope, and dragged me by the hair, into the kitchen. "You little bitch. Growing wings now, are we?" He threw me on the floor and kicked my ribs. Pain flared through me, but I shut my eyes tight. Don't make a sound. "Make me my damn breakfast right now. And I want it prepared next time or else." I nod my head, and get to my feet. But he dragged me towards him by the neck, my back to his front. His hand went under my shirt, the threat hanging in the air, and I squeezed my eyes shut. "Do you hear me?" I nod. His hand went up to my chest, and I swallowed the nausea rising up in me. "Yes who?" "Yes Daddy." I choked out. Then he pushed me towards the stove and walked out.