The Savage Between Us.

"They say family is everything. But I learned early that sometimes, family is the wound you never stop bleeding from." I grew up in a house full of noise. Not the happy kind—no laughter echoing through the walls, no music on Sunday mornings. Just shouting, slamming doors, and silence that felt heavier than any scream. My parents have hated each other since before I was born. Their marriage was arranged, a deal between two families who cared more about tradition than love. And we the children were the collateral damage. Two older sisters. Donatella and Chiara. Beautiful, fierce, and selfish beyond words. They fight like rivals at war, like their existence depends on being louder than the other. And me? I was always the quiet one. The calm girl. The invisible peacekeeper. The third child. My name is Arya. Twenty-one years old. A third-year university student at the University of Naples Federico II. On paper, I’m just another girl with books in her bag and shadows under her eyes. But behind that, I carry a life I don’t talk about. Enzo is fifteen. My little brother. Too smart for his age, too trusting for this world. He’s the only male in the house who still smiles without it seeming forced. And Liana—she’s twelve and already learning how to hide pain behind a fake smile. We don’t talk about our parents much. What’s the point? My mother lives in the kitchen, smoking out the window, whispering curses under her breath whenever my father walks past. He barely speaks unless he’s yelling. And when he’s silent, it’s worse. You can feel the tension in the air like a storm always on the edge of breaking. I used to wonder what it would feel like to live in a house where people actually liked each other. Where the sound of a door opening didn’t make your heart race. I used to envy my friends when they’d talk about family dinners or vacations, I’d fake a smile and nod like I knew what that felt like. But I didn’t. Instead, I poured myself into books and late-night drives through the city. Naples is chaotic and alive, but it’s also broken in ways I understand. In the day, it shines like a postcard. At night, it shows its real face—dirty alleyways, neon lights, secrets whispered in smoke-filled clubs, and the low growl of engines echoing through the old Spanish Quarters. I’ve always loved cars. I’ve always loved driving. It’s the only time I feel like I’m not trapped. But no one knows that side of me. Not at university, where I sit in the back of the lecture hall. Not at home, where I’m the dependable daughter who never complains. Not even my best friend knows that I sometimes sneak out after midnight just to feel the road under my wheels. Because in that silence, I feel free. And yet... there are nights when even freedom tastes bitter. Last week, I caught Enzo crying in the bathroom. He said it was nothing. He always says that. But I knew. I knew something was coming. Something dark. I just didn’t expect him. --- Across the city… They say his name like a warning. Reigen Moretti. Twenty-seven. Cold as stone, rich as sin, and dangerous enough that even the criminals in Naples lower their voices when they speak of him. He’s the heir to one of the most powerful mafia families in Italy. But the world doesn’t see that. They see the club owner—the mysterious, sharp-suited man who opened Club Nero in the heart of the city. A place where music never stops, where secrets are sold with cocktails, and where no one dares ask the wrong questions. They don’t know about the blood on his hands. Or the pain in his past. His father was a tyrant. His mother? Gone before he could speak. Reigen was raised in violence, taught that love is weakness and silence is survival. The only person he trusts is Carla—his younger sister—and the woman who raised them: a stepmother who showed him the kind of strength cruelty could never teach. He doesn’t believe in fate. But fate doesn’t ask permission. Back to Arya… That night, everything changed. Enzo came home late, eyes glazed, stumbling like he couldn’t feel the floor under him. I smelled it before I saw it. Drugs. Someone had slipped him something. I called his name. He couldn’t answer. I held him all night, shaking with fear, rage, and something else I couldn’t name. The next morning, I swore I’d find out who did this. I swore I’d protect what’s left of us, even if no one else would. And that’s how I found myself there, in a place I didn’t belong, on a night I should’ve stayed home. In the underground, where engines roared like beasts and men with black money laughed like gods. That’s where I saw him. Sharp eyes. Black like ink and twice as deep. He stood there like he owned the city. Like he didn’t fear anything—because he didn’t. And for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel invisible. I felt... seen. But what do you do when the only man who sees you clearly is the one the whole world fears? What do you do when the fire you buried so deep meets the storm he carries in his bones? Maybe fate isn’t real. Maybe this was all an accident. Or maybe… just maybe… we were meant to destroy each other.