Page 1 of Her Vengeance

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Chapter 1

Claire

“Crying enough to drown my enemies is bad for mascara but normal for a secret mafia princess.”

Through the tears blurring my vision, I hold the worn and annotated copy of Romeo and Juliet like a lifeline. The letter from him is still safely tucked inside where I found it. It took me hours of crying, looking at the blurred letters in his handwriting, until my tear ducts had nothing left to give. Each word cut me deeper as my brain re-reads them in his voice over and over again.

Daffodil,

If you’re reading this, then I am sorry to add to the list of your dead. There is only one real regret I have in this life, and that is the distance I put between us. From an early age, I knew that you were my person, my one and only, the one I could never have. Iwould love to blame my relationship with your brother for this, but that simply isn’t the case. If I had explained the way my heart stuttered every time you entered a room or how my entire body was magnetized to you, he would have understood. He would have known that this was so much more than a simple crush or mild attraction. He may have hit me, but there is nothing on this planet that I wouldn’t face to have you in my arms.

Don’t sell yourself short. Yes, I do know you well enough to anticipate that you are questioning how I could care and never say it. I know you. I know that your favorite books are tragedies because they’re more realistic than a happily ever after. You love deep fall tones year-round, and if it were up to you, Halloween would be celebrated all year long. When you’re trying to avoid displaying your smile, your eyes dart downward. Without looking, I can tell which footsteps are yours, no matter the shoes on your feet. My brain has cataloged every scar and injury you have received. Every part of you, good and bad, lives within me.

There were so many times that I wanted to tell you how I felt. I couldn’t tell you because I knew that your father would never allow it. I would rather torture myself and ensure your safety than have your dad eliminate me for getting in the way of his prize.

Please forgive me. I will always love you.

eternally yours, in life and death

Romeo

The words of his letter are etched into my brain, forever tattooed in my psyche. Pulling me from my grief, the ding of the seat belt light forces my eyes off the dark sky and back into the cabin. Without looking, I locate my headphones and insert them into my ears. With the extra protection between the world and myself, I take a deep breath. Each calming moment, I reacquaint myself with the first-class cabin as the flight attendants come around to prepare us for landing.

As the plane lowers itself back to the ground and the flight comes to an end, I center myself. Only to find that I expected to feel more anxiety than I do. Taking a final reassuring breath, I glance out the window. Thankful to see the gate, my first taste of freedom, as we slow to a stop. I want to feel more excitement, but instead I feel nothing. It feels as though I am floating in a sea, and my emotions are not attached to me; instead, they are floating just out of reach. I should be sad. Every part of my heart is smashed into unfixable pieces, but I am disconnected from the pain. Since I stopped crying and read the letter, I haven’t been able to access the emotions that I know need to be processed. Maybe this is a gift from the world. A way that my mind protects me from the damage raging in my chest. My nervous system must know that all of this is too much.

The city lights of Seattle below, lighting the way to a new start. No more mafia princess hidden in her ivory tower. The wheels touch down, and the vibration of numbness persists. My mind tries to catch up to the ever-changing world around me. It hasn’t even been two weeks since my entire world shifted on its axis. I lost both the love of my life and my father in a single mafia war. Taking a deep breath as the plane comes to a stop at the gate, I get ready to deplane.

Getting off the plane happens in a blur of unimportance, as my bag and I make it through the terminal at Sea-Tac to where the car is waiting to pick me up. I would have just taken a rideshare like normal people, but it was a concession of my brother’s, since I am out of his territory and protection. When I tried to refuse, he informed me that my protection detail would be on my ass like color on a rainbow, so I caved. The sign in the man’s hand reads ‘Claire A.’ and I walk to him, pulling one of the headphones out of my ear.

“I believe you are here for me,” I utter, trying to tamp down my aggravation at this arrangement. It isn’t his fault that mybrother hired him. He is just doing his job. My grief isn’t an excuse to be a bitch.

“Ms. Angelini?” he responds softly, looking for confirmation of my identity. He only glances up from the floor momentarily to see me nod, trusting that small gesture as a response to be kinder than my tone. He takes my bag and leads me to the black SUV parked nearby. As he walks to the car through the dimly lit garage, my gut churns. My phone vibrates in my pocket.

“Call from Leo,” the automated voice rings in my ear. Without taking my phone out of my pocket, I press a key on my smartwatch to answer the call.

“Something happened to your driver. I need you to stay near security,” his voice in full boss mode with a hint of a tremor. Instead of responding to him and giving away the knowledge that the jig is up, I play chess.

“Thank you so much for picking me up. Are we parked on the second floor by the rideshares?” I ask the impostor. Leo takes in a sharp breath.

“No, we are parked on the lower level. Don’t worry, it’s not far,” he tries to deceive me. Fuck. I wish that I had my gun, but it’s bad form to fly with an unregistered firearm.

“Claire, listen to me. He cannot get you in the lower level,” Leo instructs into the phone, doing his best to keep calm. As we walk over a storm grate, I purposely catch the heel of my boot and yelp as it breaks.

“I am so sorry,” I say, crouching to assess the damage. He stops and turns around, setting my bag down and coming toward me. A dark figure moves in the shadows, and my stomach plummets. The small shape comes up to him, and I see the glint of something metal.

“If you move another inch toward her, your brains will be the parking garage’s new decor,” a feminine voice says.

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Chapter 2

Eva

“A damsel in distress meets violence in a dress.”

My gun aimed at his temple, I steady my breath and patiently wait for his submission. Moments pass, and nothing happens. He doesn’t make a decision like a coward, so I lift my gun before bringing it down hard on his temple.