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Chapter 2

AVALINE

I don't know how I should feel. Because I can't say that my father doesn't care about me. He treated me like a princess.

Gave me a pampered life. He even supported my studies. This is the first time I've been disappointed in him. So it's hard to decide whether I should be angry with him.

'We're only talking, Avaline. This is not a death sentence,' he said with dry humor.

This marriage is a death sentence! I'll be forced to be submissive. Whoever I marry would control how I live my life. And if so, I will be nothing but a body. My life will be sold to him. It won't be mine.

'I hope so,' I murmured to myself, hoping for a miracle.

'Yesterday, you were talking about honoring this organization,' he said without blinking. 'And now is the chance to do so.'

'By marriage,' I couldn't help myself.

Papa paused and raised an eyebrow. 'How did you find out about this?'

'You sound surprised. I'm just stating the obvious, Papa. I'm no longer going to delude myself into thinking that there will be any other role for me here besides being a wife. Clearly, there is no other way for me to honor this family but to marry.'

He sighed and leaned forward, ready to assert his authority.

'Don't make it sound like I'm at fault. We have been preparing you for this up to this day. I've never hidden such a thing. You had many years prior to come to terms with this.'

'Thanks for the warning, Papa. News flash: it did not make this any easier,' I couldn't deny the bitterness in my tone.

Never. And I mean never in my whole life have I used this tone on Papa. But there's that small part of me that even though aware of the impossibility, still hopes that when Papa hears how miserable it will make me, he will soften his heart enough to spare me.

But his duty as capo will always come first. And no one, not even his daughter, can sway his decisions. This is his display of power—making everyone know that nothing could bend him.

'Do you have any lover that I should know of? Is that the reason why you refuse this? You are fortunate, Ava. You are already seven years late for your marrying age. I could have married you off the second you turned eighteen, but I didn't do it. Within those seven years, not once did you show interest in someone. It's either you didn't have a lover or you just successfully hid him from me. Who?'

'And then? What are you going to do, Papa? Shoot him?' I asked.

'So there is someone,' he concluded.

I groaned. 'Papa, that is not the point! There is no man in my life but you. Do you honestly think that with all my bodyguards around, word wouldn't get back to you if there was?'

Maybe if one of the bodyguards annoys me, I could drop his name as a lover and just let Papa shoot him—only if I can afford that level of heartlessness.

'Can't I be useful in other ways? I'm not just a face, Papa. My brain, if you'd like to know, is perfectly capable of forming coherent sentences and ideas.'

“I know you can, Ava,” Papa said.

“Then give me a chance,” I bargained. “If I fail you, then I’ll marry willingly.”

“That’s not a risk I’ll take, Avaline. This is non-negotiable.” The door opened behind me while Papa spoke. I can feel Sirius waiting by the door. It’s as if these people could communicate telepathically. Even though Papa didn’t call him, Sirius knows he needs to be here.

“Take Ava back to her room, Sirius,” he ordered without taking his eyes off me.

“You’ll meet with your wedding planner tomorrow. You should rest.”

“Papa, please—”

“I’m capo, Avaline. Do not fight me on this,” Papa said impatiently.

And just like that, I have yet again overestimated my value to him. I regarded him openly, letting him see through me and making it clear that I felt betrayed.

“Good day, then,” I swallowed a lump in my throat and added sharply, “…Capo.”

CZAR

I rammed my opponent’s stomach with my knees. He has been on the receiving end of my hard kicks and punches for minutes now that by the time I kicked again, he fell to his knees. He tried to elbow me, but the blow was as soft as a feather.

The opponent is too weak to fight now. But he can be more helpless than this, so I continued my attacks. I’d beat him up until he becomes unconscious. Or maybe my thirst for torture will make me continue beating him even when he is unconscious.

“Bring the next one in,” I growled, thriving on the adrenaline of shedding someone’s blood.

One of my soldiers pushed another fighter in.

“Alaric has caught Monteval’s man, Mr. Levesque.”

“Did I fucking ask?!” I said coldly. “Make sure he’s alive. No one finishes him but me.”

I tilted my head, instructing them to push the man inside the cage already. I’m not yet satiated.

Pascal Monteval. That fucker! He sent a soldier to kill one of ours. We’ve been rivals for years since I lead the La Archantes. This was just one of our regular back and forths. A life for a life. We have no other angle, actually. The goal is just to piss the other off.

And when I’m pissed, I need to hurt someone. On other days, I would have visited the Monteval territory myself and shot someone. But that’s not wise at the moment. If he retaliates, I’d lose more soldiers. And that is the last thing I need right now because Monteval is beginning to be fucking suspicious. Don’t mistake me; he is always suspicious of me. But I feel like he has a master plan going on.

I admired the blood on my skin like art. My lips curled at the sight. One of these days, I might just decide to store blood from the people I kill in a container. Get an artist and make them paint a portrait of me using blood as paint.

They’d look at me like I’m insane, but it has already been established that I am, so I see no point in denying it. They’ll know to keep their hands steady while they do their work or I’ll point a gun at their head. I’d frame the portrait for everyone to see.

My white towel soaked in blood after I wiped my body. I’ll shower before another bloody date with my knives. When I passed by the white angular sofa and a neutral rug where a sculptural coffee table was placed, I was reminded of how important it is to wipe blood away. I hate having house help. It feels invasive. Only my brothers and I live here, and we have more important matters to attend to than scrubbing blood off our house surfaces.

I strolled inside the home gym and found Eiran and Adonis inside.

“Are you calmed down now?” Eiran, my brother, greeted as he put a piece of equipment back in its place.

“He’s never calm,” Adonis, one of my trusted soldiers, smirked. Eiran is my second-in-command. Adonis is one of my most skilled soldiers and a friend.

“We have punching bags in case you weren’t notified,” Eiran said.

“Punching bags will remain punching bags. I want to see the fruit of my labor. Seeing people limping, bruised, and almost dead will be the only thing ever close to satisfaction.”

The two exchanged glances in front of me. I looked back at the door, expecting another presence, but there was none.

“Where’s Alaric?” I asked.

“In the basement,” Eiran replied with a grin.

“Monteval is using him as a shooting target.”

“That little shit!” I cursed and stormed out the door. Footsteps followed closely behind me.

“What’s wrong?” Eiran caught up with my pace.

I was seething when I saw Alaric entering the house. He stood on the white luxury vinyl tile, which in just a second would not be as white anymore if I shot him right on the spot.

“I specifically instructed you…” my breathing was heavy as I approached him.

Others would’ve trembled on the spot, but this is Alaric. “To keep that motherfucker untouched!”

I violently yanked at the collar of his black dress shirt. Judging by how tightly I gripped it, the fabric would tear in the next minute.

“Do you want me to remind you who’s in charge here?” I said lowly. “Huh? You want a reminder?”

“Czar, calm the fuck down!” Eiran pulled me away while Adonis stepped in front of Alaric, as if that would stop me.

Alaric chuckled and clapped a hand over Adonis’s shoulder.

“I’m insulted, Adonis. You think I need protection from that piece of shit?” he pointed at me. “I’m not a pussy.”

“You will be after I cut your fucking dick off!” I lunged again, but Eiran used more strength to hold me back. I hate that I trained him.

“Alaric, you know Czar has a short temper. You should’ve followed his orders,” Eiran said.

“He’s hot-headed all the time. So when can I not follow?” Alaric shot back.

“When you find a new capo or when I kill you; that’s when you’re allowed not to follow,” I said with an evil smirk. “Though the latter has a greater probability of happening.”

I saw no fear in his expression. That’s because they know I'm just full of threats, but I would never actually kill my brothers.

“I don’t get why you’re fighting over a soldier. He’s nothing special,” Eiran shrugged.

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