Mafia Bloodlines: A rivalry of Hearts

o the Li

ana'

st Italian soil, I felt it - that heavy,

o

at smelled like gunpowder and

sun. Naples sprawled out beyond the window, all glitter and grime, golden domes and bl

nd smoke. I stood, smoothing the creases from my black silk blouse

pilot called afte

back. Luck was

low like beasts held by a thread. Men in suits stood by the doors - my fat

for an ol

His hand lingered too long at his side, where a gun

t them b

faintly of cigars and steel polish. Across from me sat Luca, my father's consigliere - a li

ifting a glass of whiskey in

ing my legs, "but the k

ke I'd made a

watched the world blur past - the crumbling villas, the hawk-eyed

as my

the sacrif

woman," Luca said, voice oily

evil," I murmured, tapping

"Peace has a price, Adriana. Y

Luca, what did you pay? Or did you just

ered. Good. Le

, hidden behind walls thicker than loyalty. At the highest peak, like a vulture's nest, loom

white gravel drive. Guards flanked the

we cal

hieves.

n, and I stepped i

ached them. Out strode my father -

r now, but his pos

eyes. A man who ha

e a king greeting a favorite subj

here was s

y head. I didn't kiss his rin

smiled, all teeth. "Come ins

ith the scent of lemon polish and old money. Portraits of dead m

e gleamed under chandeliers. Men in dark s

capt

coun

ison

indicated - at his right h

his glass. "The bridge between ol

h the wine pl

h the Petrovs has bled us for too long. Too many so

before he even spoke the wo

marry Iv

ovals, exchanged glances, knive

ch, tasting the bitter

use asking why would

nough time to prepare. No

ugh tim

ossing my arms. "

crossed his face. "Then

e air from my lungs

cent. Stil

to believe monsters

't dare," I

led. "

e men stood, the meeting over

ntil only my father remained. He poured himse

said at last, almost fond. "She fou

lms. I forced my voice

he rim of his gl

d steady, each

id, voice like steel, "b

e out of the room, echo

d dusty, a shrine to a girl who no longer exis

s a drumbea

ee

s to marr

o find a way

outside the wind

racked mirror - the sharp lines of

ne's sacri

ire they wo

rov thought he

arn that lions don