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On January 24, 2005, the day I was born, both of my parents passed away. By January 24, 2012, I entered foster care. On January 24, 2014, I was adopted. Then, on January 24, 2021, "IT" happened. And yes, I would wish this life on my worst enemy. Why? Because I'm not a saint, and I won't pretend to see good in the people who cause me pain-I genuinely wish the worst for them. As they say, living is worse than death, and I believe I might be proof of that. My name is Maryna Black. I'm 20 years old now, and my life has been nothing short of a roller coaster of misfortune. I've been betrayed, broken, and nearly destroyed. But I'm still here. And that's the part they should fear.
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Honestly, my family is chaos, but what else would you expect? We're THE Mafia. I had everything I could ever want-no boundaries, no matter how dark or twisted. By the time I was 8, I had my own gun, and by 10, I claimed my first kill. I was born into this world, molded to fit it perfectly, and I embrace it fully. But even in a world built on blood, I have my own code. I don't tolerate disrespect,especially toward her. My name is Levi Creekman. I'm 29 years old, and I'm the Don of this life-the Mafia life. And if you cross Maryna Black, you cross me.
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#MAFIA
#ABUSE
#VOILENCE
#BWWM
#FAMILY
Pain comes in many forms. Heartbreak, headaches, broken bones, and that quiet, soul-splitting kind that doesn't leave bruises. But the kind of pain I've witnessed goes beyond all that. Have you ever heard a man scream, really scream, as he's being beaten and his fingers broken one by one? I have. And as twisted as it might sound, in that moment, it felt... satisfying.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not a psychopath. These people, they deserve it. In a world full of monsters, someone has to be worse. Someone has to be the shadow in the corner, the final judgment behind a red-drenched smile. That someone is me.
Reanne Anderson. Twenty-four. Assassin for the Anderson family. Secret hacker behind their impenetrable systems but to most, I'm the Red Lady.
I respect boundaries until someone crosses mine. Then I become a storm in heels, or combat boots, or whatever the hell I'm wearing that day.
And then there's him.
Lorenzo Russo. Twenty-eight. Newly crowned Don of the Russo family after his father was butchered by the Russian mafia. Lost his mother in the same bloodbath. He's cold, calculated and ruthless. He looks at people like he's already decided whether they're useful or dead. He's got the eyes of a man who's seen too much, felt too little, and trusts no one.
Our paths were never supposed to cross. But war doesn't care about plans. He needed someone who could crack into encrypted systems. He needed a ghost.
He got me.
But sometimes, even in the darkest corners of the world, two dark souls might just bleed for each other.