Mafia Princess

Chapter 14: My daughter

Sandro's POV

Rafael Cruz showed up on my roof. Looked at my daughter. Called her a weakness.

He's lucky my sons got to him before I did. Because if I had been there, he wouldn't have left in an elevator. He would have left in a bag.

I watched the security feed three times.

Alexander, calm. Assessing. Angles, exits, body count if needed. He moved between Cruz and the stairs. Good. That's my heir.

Jake, emotional. Angry. Put himself in front without thinking. Almost got himself killed. But he did it anyway. Good. That's my heart.

Zachary... Zachary went still. The way he does before he kills something. The way I do. No breath. No blink. Then he moved, and Jane disappeared behind him. Completely. He didn't touch her. He didn't need to. His body said 'mine' louder than any gun.

She grabbed his hoodie. Small fists, white knuckles. He covered her hand with his. One second. One heartbeat. Then let go.

That's when I decided. Walls weren't enough. She needed a shield with a pulse.

It's 5pm.

They're all here.

Alexander by the door. Arms crossed. He’s been hunting Cruz since sunrise. Three men down. Cruz is still breathing because I want it to hurt longer.

Jake by the window. Bouncing. He spent the morning with Viktor learning to disarm men twice his size. Came back with a split lip and a grin.

Zachary against the wall behind Jane's chair. Silent. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was part of the furniture. You’d be dead wrong.

Jane's in my chair. Elena’s chair. Her feet don't touch the ground. Again. She kicks once before she stops herself.

She's wearing one of Zack's hoodies. Again. It swallows her. Sleeves past her hands. It smells like gun oil and soap.

Her hair's in a messy bun. She has a scrape on her knee from Viktor yesterday. He made her run the course until she bled. "Pain teaches," he said. I didn't argue.

She looks twelve.

She's fifteen.

She's mine.

"You're going to school," I say.

The room shifts. Three sets of eyes on me. One set goes wide.

Jane's head snaps up. "What?"

"School," I repeat. "You and Jake. 9th grade. St. Augustine Academy. Monday."

Jake groans. "Dad, no. That place is full of-"

"Rich kids," I finish. "Yes. Like you. Like her. Like this family."

Jane twists the hoodie in her hands. "I'm not rich," she says. Small. "I'm from Laguna. We ate rice with salt when money was bad."

"You were," I say. "Now you're Wilson. Wilsons go to St. Augustine. Wilsons have drivers. Wilsons have enemies."

She chews her lip. Elena did that when she was scared. "Do I have to?"

"Yes," I say. "You need normal. You need education. You need to learn how to be around people who aren't me, or them, or Viktor."

"I don't want normal," she mumbles. "Normal is stupid. Normal gets people killed."

"It's also camouflage," Alexander says from the door. We talked about this. "You stand out less if you're in a uniform like everyone else."

"I stand out because I'm me," Jane says. "And because of them." She gestures at the boys. "They follow me to the bathroom. I can't even pee alone."

"Rule #9," Jake says, trying to grin. "Nobody gets to you without going through us first. Deal with it, twin."

I look at Zachary. He hasn't said anything. He's just watching Jane. Jaw tight. He's thinking about the roof. About one second too late.

"Zack," I say.

His eyes flick to me. Ice blue. Elena's eyes. My temper.

"You'll be there too. 12th grade. Same school."

Even Jake stops bouncing.

Zack blinks. Once. "Thought I graduated last year."

"You did," I say. "Online. Early. Because I said so. Now you're going back. In person."

"Why?" Zack says. Flat. No inflection. That's when he's most dangerous.

"Because she's going," I say. "And you're not letting her out of your sight."

Jane's head whips around. "What? No. That's embarrassing. I'll be the girl with the giant senior bodyguard."

"Don't care," Zack says. Still flat. "You're not walking those halls alone. Not after yesterday."

"I'll have Jake," Jane argues. "Jake's in my grade-"

"Jake's 15," I cut her off. "He gets in fights. He gets distracted. He's a kid."

"Hey," Jake says. Then considers it. "Okay, yeah. Fair."

"You're a kid," I tell him. Not unkind. Just fact. "Zack's 18. Zack's trained since he was 6. Zack's killed. Zack's staying."

The room goes quiet. The word sits there.

Wilsons don't lie to Wilsons.

Jane's face does something complicated. She looks at Zack. Really looks. At his hands. Scarred. At his eyes. Old.

"You've... killed?" Her voice is barely there.

Zack doesn't answer me. He answers her.

"Yes."

One word. No apology. No pride. Just truth.

"Oh," Jane says. Small. She pulls the hoodie tighter. "How... how many?"

"Enough," Zack says.

Then, fast. Like he needs her to know: "Not people like you. Never. Bad people. People who tried to hurt Dad. Or Alex. Or Jake."

He pauses.

"Or you."

"Three weeks ago," I add. "The man in the black SUV. That was Zack."

Zack doesn't deny it.

Jane processes. Fifteen, but she grew up fast in three months.

"Okay," she says finally.

"Okay?" I ask.

"Okay," she says. "If Zack's there, then okay. I don't... I don't want to be alone. Not with people like Cruz."

Something in Zack's face cracks. Just a little. His shoulders drop one millimeter.

He nods once. "You won't be."

"Good," I say. "Then it's settled. Monday. 7am. Car takes all three of you. Bulletproof. Driver's armed. Security follows. You do not leave campus. Not for lunch. Not for fire drills. Not for anything. If the building's burning, you wait for Zack."

"That's stupid," Jane says. "What if there's a shooter-"

"No," I say. Voice like iron. "That's Wilson. My wife died because she thought she was safe. Because she went to the market without me. My daughter doesn't die because she thought she was brave."

Jane shuts up. Her eyes are wet. She blinks hard. Refuses to let them fall. Elena did that too.

Jake kneels next to her chair. Serious now. "Hey. It's not forever. Just until Cruz is dead. Until you're not new."

"I'll always be new," Jane says. Voice shaking. "I'm the only girl. Ever. There are articles about me. I'm not normal and I never will be."

She's right. And it guts me.

"Then we stay," Zack says from behind her. Quiet. Certain. "As long as it takes. One year. Four years. Forever."

I look at him. My son. My weapon. He's 18. He should be at university. He should be running my south operations. He should be anywhere but high school.

But he's here. Because of her.

I don't say thank you. Wilsons don't say thank you for breathing.

I say, "If anyone touches her, you break them. If anyone looks at her wrong, you make them blind. If anyone says her name without respect, you make them forget it. Understood?"

"Understood," Zack says. No hesitation.

"Understood," Jake says. Fierce.

"Understood," Alexander says. Cold.

Jane looks between all of us. "I don't want anyone hurt because of me."

"You won't see it," I tell her. As gentle as I can. "That's the point. You get to be 15. We handle the rest."

She hugs Zack's hoodie tighter. "This is insane."

"This is family," I say. "Get used to it."

I stand. Meeting over.

"Marta will get your uniforms. Zack, you're with her for fitting. Make sure the blazer hides your holster. Jake, you're with Viktor. Again. Alex, my office. Now."

They move.

Jane stands too. She's wobbling. Viktor's been running her at 5am for three days. She's stronger. But she's still small. Still my little girl.

Zack's at her side before I can blink. Not touching. Just... there. "You good?"

"I'm good," she says. Looks up at him. "You don't have to go back to high school for me. You hate it."

"Yeah, I do," Zack says. Simple. "Rule #11."

"You keep making rules," Jane says.

"Keep earning them," Zack says back.

She gives him a real smile. Small but real.

It hits me. Right in the chest.

Elena's smile. Same curve. Same dimple on the left.

I turn away before anyone sees my face. "Out," I say. Voice rough. "All of you."

They go.

Zack's hand hovers at Jane's back. Not touching. But ready.

The door shuts.

Quiet.

I sit back down. The leather's still warm from her.

I open the bottom drawer. Locked. Only I have the key.

The photo's still there. Face down, like always.

I turn it over.

Elena. 24. Pregnant with Alexander. Happy. Sun in her hair. My ring on her finger.

"Look at her," I say to the photo. My voice breaks. I don't care. "She's got your eyes. She's got your stubborn. She's got your smile. She's got three brothers who'd burn the world for her."

The photo doesn't answer. It never does.

"They wanted her," I tell Elena. "Cruz looked at her like she was leverage. Like she was you."

My fist clenches. I force myself to relax.

"I won't lose her," I whisper. "Not like I lost you. Not to me being too slow. Business can't wait, but she comes first. Always."

The office is quiet.

But for the first time in fifteen years, this room doesn't feel empty.

It feels like a father's office.

It feels like home.

I put the photo back. Face down.

And I start planning how to kill Rafael Cruz.

Slowly.