As I looked around the warehouse, I took inventory. We hadn't escaped without losses on our side. I counted three of my men down, maybe dead, maybe just wounded. That was a hazard of the job. Every man knew it. Other families cared for the families of their fallen comrades, but my father didn’t. He said they all knew the risks, and it wasn't his responsibility to keep their families comfortable. I wished I could change that, but sweeping changes weren't something that could happen overnight. When I took full control, things would be different.
Moving back to the corner, I slipped into the shadows again. To most of these men, I was just the kid who tagged along sometimes, a skilled operative whose face they couldn't quite recall in the daylight. Nobody said anything. I was good at getting into places unnoticed, and they'd seen enough to trust that I had their backs when it counted.
There were no congratulatory high-fives or cheers. Everyone silently went about their jobs, collecting shell casings, checking bodies, and cleaning up what needed to be done. This was business, not a celebration.
"Everyone’s gone," Mathias said, his massive frame looming at my side, though he kept a careful foot behind. I was the boss; nobody was on my level. He might be my underboss, but he knew his place.
"This should send the message," I said, my voice flat. A nagging doubt in the back of my mind wondered if it needed to be more public, but my one weakness was innocent people falling victim to this life. There was no need for it. Shootouts in the middle of the street were as outdated as eighties fashion. These days, our families fight in warehouses, empty junkyards, and on the turf of our enemies. "Burn it to the ground."
I turned and headed for the exit, my boots echoing in the now-quiet building. Behind me, I heard Mathias giving orders to the cleanup crew.
"You're bleeding," Mathias said with a slight worry in his voice as he caught up to me. He moved closer, his eyes fixed on my arm where blood had soaked through my sleeve.
"It's just a graze." Rolling my eyes, I knew this was why people couldn't know who I was. All they would do is worry and fret, forgetting about the things I'd actually accomplished. I'd just orchestrated the downfall of one of Chicago's oldest crime families, and that was about to be overshadowed by concern about a flesh wound.
We reached the small office near the entrance where I had stashed my belongings. Mathias grabbed the first aid kit hanging on the wall beside the door, and I removed my tactical gear, peeling off layers until I could access the clothing underneath. The dress I wore here, elegant and expensive, was completely out of place with what I had just done.
Leaving one arm exposed so he could bandage me up, I watched Mathias work. I was constantly amazed at how this massive man, six-foot-four and built like a linebacker, could be so gentle. His huge fingers moved with surprising gentleness as he cleaned the wound.
Struggling to open the bandage wrapper with his thick fingers, he fumbled for a moment. I took it from him impatiently and ripped it open, holding it steady while he applied pressure before securing it over my wound.
"Your mother won't like this," he mumbled under his breath, his eyes not meeting mine.
"My mother will never know." I clenched my jaw, fury rising despite my best efforts to hold it back. No matter what I did, no matter how many enemies I took out or how much money I made, I'd always be seen as nothing more than a man’sappendage. I’ve been running this family for two years now, and in that time, we’ve been more successful than in the thirty years my father was Don. I wasn't about to turn back now. Taking over this family and rebuilding it from the ground up would be my legacy, and I’d be the first woman to lead a Chicago mafia family publicly. I just had to play my cards right and wait for the right moment.
Carefully sliding my arm into the dress sleeve, I grabbed my large winter coat. Cashmere, black, expensive. I flicked my hair out from where it had gotten tucked into the collar. I squared my shoulders, adjusted my posture, and pasted on a sweet, slightly vacant smile. I was back to being a lady, the Carminatti princess. My dress would raise no questions. If I needed to act a little inebriated to sell the story, I would.
"Good night, Mathias," I said, giving him a warm smile that didn't reach my eyes, and pushing the door open.
The cold December night hit me like a physical force. The wind sliced through even my expensive coat, and I pulled it tighter around myself. Snow had started falling while we'd been inside, light flurries that caught in the streetlights and made everything look deceptively peaceful.
Something down the street caught my eye: a large, blacked-out SUV idling at the curb about fifty yards away. I knew he was close; my men had alerted me before we even entered the warehouse.
I was sure the Venosa family would be monitoring the situation. Our organization had leaders in all the major cities who kept a close watch on each family. There were expectations and rules we needed to follow, but we could operate as families without constant oversight as long as we didn't cause too much chaos.
The Venosa men would step in if things went wrong, but I also knew our blood would be spilled alongside whoever we weretaking down. They didn't play favorites. Niccolò Venosa was the only man more ruthless than me, from what I'd heard.
I'd never seen him, but I'd heard stories. His scars from countless fights, his imposing stature, his tattoo-covered body, and, because women in this world couldn't escape the gossip, the weapon between his legs. Being a woman had its downsides here, and the constant crude gossip was at the top of that list.
We weren't allowed to get involved in the danger, so dinner parties and fundraisers kept us busy. But as a daughter rather than a son, my mother had forbidden me from participating in most of it. I was the princess, the bargaining chip, the mystery my parents dangled before the circles they wanted to infiltrate.
I wasn't just a princess, though. I've been running the Carminatti family for the past two years, and I wasn't about to relinquish the power I've built and hand it back to my father. No, I know how to keep him in line, even if my methods are dark. Even if I have to keep him sedated and compliant, a puppet while I pull the strings.
Straddling both worlds was exhausting, but I couldn't show my hand now. Not yet.
I watched the SUV move forward, crawling slowly past the warehouse. I tilted my head slightly, letting my hair fall around my face like a curtain, hoping to avoid being recognized. The last thing I wanted was for Niccolò Venosa to know exactly who had just taken out one of his registered families.
After it passed, I stood tall, smoothly pushed my hair away from my face, and approached the black town car waiting for me at the corner, its engine idling and exhaust forming clouds in the cold air.
It was time to sleep. Or at least pretend to.
Settling into the buttery leather seats, I let myself relax for the first time in hours. My arm throbbed, but it was manageable. I'd had worse.
My phone chimed, its sound sharp in the quiet car. Reaching into my purse, I rummaged through lipstick, compact, and the small handgun I always carried until my hand landed on it.
Mother: Make sure you're at the salon by two. We have the symphony tonight. Your dress is hanging in your closet. I hope you didn't stay out too late last night.
Groaning, I completely forgot about the symphony tonight. I loved going, genuinely loved it, one of the few genuine pleasures I allowed myself, but it was the last thing I wanted to do after taking out an enemy. It was going to take my mother's glam team hours to get me looking presentable for tonight, to transform me from the ghost who'd just killed a dozen men into the pristine princess who smiled at society's elite.
