Chapter 6 - The Orphan No More
|
The weight of the revelation settled over the estate like a suffocating blanket. Norah sat in the library, a massive room filled with leather-bound books and the scent of expensive cigars. She stared into the crackling fireplace, a glass of untouched whiskey resting on the table beside her.
She was a mafia princess. The thought made her want to vomit. Her entire life, she had prided herself on being a normal, law-abiding citizen. She paid her taxes, she recycled, she organized charity drives. Now, she was told her blood was steeped in violence and organized crime.
The heavy mahogany doors opened, and Damian walked in. He poured himself a drink and sat in the leather armchair opposite her.
"You haven't touched your drink," he observed.
"I don't drink on the job," she replied automatically.
Damian offered a faint, humorless smile. "You resigned, remember?"
"Right," Norah sighed, running a hand through her hair, abandoning her usual neat bun. "So, what happens now? Do you kill me to secure your claim to the throne? Isn't that how these mafia movies go?"
Damian’s eyes darkened, the humor vanishing completely. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Never say that again. Not even as a joke."
Norah was taken aback by the fierce intensity in his voice. "I'm a threat to your power, Damian."
"You are family," he corrected, his voice a low rumble. "In this world, blood is the only currency that matters. You are my cousin. And more importantly, you are under my roof. I would burn this city to ash before I let anyone touch a hair on your head."
Norah looked into his eyes, searching for deceit, but found only absolute, terrifying sincerity.
"The Romanos know," Damian continued. "They know who you are. The hit at your apartment wasn't a kidnapping attempt. It was an assassination. If they kill you, the genetic lock on the vault resets to the next in line. Me. And they think I am easier to kill than a ghost."
May you like
"What do we do?" she asked softly.
"We fight," he said.
