Stefano's Little Feather

CHAPTER ONE Irla. New beginning I stepped off the train with my eyes fixed on the ground. White. Everything was white. Snow swallowed the tracks, the platform, the world itself—like something had erased color and left only silence behind. It’s snowing. The thought came too slowly, dulled by exhaustion. I shoved my hands deeper into the pockets of the oversized hoodie clinging to my body. It wasn’t mine. Borrowed, I reminded myself. The owner would disagree. But then again, the owner wasn’t the one running for her life. I paused at the edge of the station, the cold slicing through me instantly, merciless and alive. It didn’t just touch my skin—it crept beneath it, coiling into my bones like something patient. Watching. Waiting. Which way? I had no plan. No direction. Just distance. If only Aiden hadn’t done what he did. The train behind me shrieked as it pulled away, its metal body groaning like it knew something I didn’t. The sound echoed too long, too loud, before fading into nothing. Gone. Just like everything else. “Oh my God…” My teeth clattered together. “This cold is insane.” And I was wearing shorts. A broken laugh slipped out of me. Of course I was. Because of course the girl who got ripped out of her own life wouldn’t think about something as simple as weather. I hugged myself tighter, nails digging into my arms beneath the hoodie. At least I had this. At least I had something. The memory of the woman on the plane slid back into my mind—the one who kept watching me like she could see through the lies I was barely holding together. “Are you okay?” she had asked. Her voice had been soft. Careful. I had nodded. Of course I had. Because what was I supposed to say? No, I’ve been hunted out of my country. No, the only family I had sold me like I was nothing. No, I don’t even know if I’ll survive the night. So I said yes. Because yes was easier. Because yes ended conversations. “Move,” I whispered to myself. “Just move, Irla.” I forced my legs forward, climbing the station stairs. Each step felt heavier than the last, like something behind me was pulling, dragging, refusing to let me go. My fingers brushed against the inside of my hoodie pocket. My passport. I tightened my grip around it. The only proof I existed. The only thing that mattered now. Don’t lose it. Not after what it took to get it. Not after slipping past my uncle’s watchful eyes. Not after running from Mr. Murphy’s men. If they caught up to me— I swallowed hard. They won’t. They couldn’t. They wouldn’t. The city hit me all at once. Light. Sound. Movement. Too alive. Christmas lights blinked in warm colors, mocking the cold. Music spilled from somewhere unseen. People moved past me in clusters—laughing, talking, existing like the world wasn’t capable of breaking apart in a single moment. A couple sat inside a brightly lit shop, their baby between them. A woman passed with a tiny dog tucked into her bag, its bell chiming softly. A family walked by, their footsteps steady, certain. They belonged here. I didn’t. My gaze lifted to a neon sign flickering across the street. “Grapes in Chicago.” Chicago. The word settled heavily in my chest. So this was where I ended up. The traffic light changed. I stepped forward. And immediately felt it. Eyes. On me. Burning into my skin. Of course. Shorts. Bare legs. In winter. I lowered my head and kept walking anyway. Let them stare. They didn’t know me. They didn’t know anything. The bell above the shop door rang as I stepped inside. Warmth slammed into me. It almost hurt. “Hi. How may I help you?” The woman behind the counter didn’t smile. Her gaze dragged over me slowly, deliberately—taking in every wrong detail. The hoodie. The legs. The shoes. Her fingers tapped once. Twice. Judgment, sharp and quiet. “Uh… hi,” I said, my voice thinner than I intended. “Is there a motel nearby?” Her lips pressed together. “There’s one down the alley to your right,” she said. “Should be… suitable.” Something about the way she said it made my stomach twist. Still— “Thank you.” I turned before she could say anything else and stepped back into the cold. The alley swallowed the noise of the city. Dim. Narrow. Wrong. My footsteps echoed too loudly. Aiden. The name surfaced like poison. Anger burned through the numbness, sudden and violent. He didn’t just betray me. He handed me over. Like I was currency. Like I meant nothing. My vision blurred. Ireland felt like a dream now—distant, unreachable. And I knew, with a certainty that settled like lead in my chest: I wasn’t going back. Not unless the Dublin mafia disappeared. And monsters like that didn’t just vanish. A movement ahead. I froze. A man staggered into view. Drunk. Or worse. I glanced behind me. Empty. No one. My pulse spiked. “Hey… hey…” he slurred, drifting closer. “Where ya going, little one?” “Home,” I said quickly, stepping sideways. “Home?” He laughed, wet and uneven. “You don’t look like you got one.” My chest tightened. “I need to go, sir.” “Wait—wait…” He leaned closer, his breath sour, his eyes unfocused but searching. “Lemme ask you something…” I didn’t answer. “Do you think I’m a bad person?” The question cut through the fear. “I… I don’t know.” He chuckled, then dropped his gaze. “I am,” he said. “Done bad things.” Something shifted in his voice. “But I’m trying.” The words were small. Fragile. And somehow— Human. “It’s okay,” I said quietly. “People can change.” He looked at me again. “What’s your name?” “…Irla.” “Irla,” he repeated slowly. “You’re kind. Don’t lose that.” Then he walked away. Just like that. Leaving me colder than before. I moved faster after that. Almost running. The cold was worse now. My legs burned. My fingers were numb. Then— Music. Faint. Distant. Hope flickered. “Please…” I whispered. “Let that be it.” I ran. Half-blind, breath tearing out of my lungs. Lights appeared. People. Noise. Relief surged— Then shattered. “…No.” A club. Not a motel. A club. My chest caved in on itself. A tear slid down my cheek. I didn’t have the strength for this. But I kept moving. Because stopping wasn’t an option. And then I saw it. Another building. Larger. Quieter. Still. COCORICO. The name glowed above the entrance like something unreal. Relief hit so hard it made me dizzy. Warmth. Safety. Maybe. I stumbled toward it, my body trembling uncontrollably now. “Just… get inside…” My vision blurred. My legs weakened. “Almost there…” Impact. Hard. Solid. The air was knocked from my lungs. Not a wall. A man. Tall. Too tall. Strong hands gripped my shoulders, steadying me. I looked up. Couldn’t see his face properly—the light was behind him, casting him into shadow. But everything else— Controlled. Dangerous. Expensive. His suit fit too perfectly. His presence filled the space like something heavy, something immovable. Not safe. Not safe at all. He stepped aside without a word, letting me pass. Like he’d already decided something about me. I didn’t know what. And I didn’t want to. I caught one last detail—the open collar of his shirt, the hint of skin, the quiet authority in the way he stood. The kind of man who owned things. Controlled things. Destroyed things. My vision flickered. White crept in from the edges, swallowing everything. The last thing I felt wasn’t the cold. It was his hand tightening slightly on my shoulder. Not to help. To stop me. And just before the darkness took me— I realized something worse than being lost. I hadn’t escaped. I had walked straight into something else.