Page 1 of Ashes

Chapter 1

IGRIP THE BOW ANDclose my eyes. The chilly air breezes around me, but in my mind, I’m somewhere else.

I’m with my brother.

A smile spreads across his lips, and his dark brown eyes observe me from under a mop of black hair.

I smile too as he touches my arm to correct my posture.

When I open my eyes, I let the arrow fly.

I’m alone again.

The arrow hits the target, and I wish Alex were here to hug me and tell me I was doing great.

But he’s not here.

He’s never going to be here again.

The roar of car engines catches my attention, and I look in the direction of the noise.

My father.

He’s back home early.

There’s no one else who’d be able to find our estate in the middle of nowhere, and if someone were here to attack us, the guards would’ve already sounded the alarm.

I race back into the house, my heart drumming in my chest.

When my brother was still alive, my father was away very often for long periods of time. It gave us plenty of time to breathe and plenty of time for Alex to teach me things that he wasn’t supposed to.

But unlike my father, Alex actually loved me.

I quickly hide the bow and my arrows in a big ornamented chest that my brother made and that my father never pays any attention to, and then I rush to get to my room to change into a dress.

My father must think that I’m a robot.

Since I’m a mafia princess, he expects me to behave and talk in a certain way. The delusional bubble in his narrow little mind just refuses to burst.

He expects that all mafia princesses are the same and that everyone will always do what he wants them to.

It’s pathetic.

It disgusts me more than anything else.

But until I can find a way to do something about my situation, I have to bite my tongue and bide my time.

Be the stupid, silly thing he expects me to be.

Even if I want to fill his body with arrows.

Too bad there are so many guards.

I slam the door of my room closed, and I can already picture my mother’s exasperated sigh because I’m not supposed to slam doors or make any noise.

I’m supposed to be a nice little plant.

A fragile, pretty flower.