Queen of Rage.

Sloane Gallagher sat in the dimly lit corner of her father’s opulent study, her long fingers trailing over the edges of a crystal glass filled with red wine she hadn’t touched. The faint hum of conversation seeped through the heavy oak door. Voices sharp with power and authority rose and fell like a symphony of control, orchestrated by her father. She’d been told to wait, as she often was when matters of “family business” arose. It wasn’t her place to question, to involve herself. Not yet. Not until her father deemed her ready to be a true part of his empire. She had spent her entire life in this shadow, balancing the fine line between freedom and loyalty. She hated it and yet found herself tethered to it, as if her identity were incomplete without the weight of the Gallagher name. The study itself was an extension of Don Gallagher’s presence: dark mahogany shelves lined with leather-bound books, artifacts from his travels meticulously displayed, and a massive desk that seemed to loom over the room. Behind it hung a portrait of her late mother—a reminder of the life they’d lost and the void that had hardened her father’s heart. Sloane leaned back in the armchair, letting her gaze wander to the window. The city sprawled before her, its glittering lights masking the rot that simmered beneath its surface. Somewhere out there, lives were being ruined, deals were being made, and blood was being spilled—all under her father’s command. The door creaked open, and Rowen stepped inside. Her older brother carried himself with the same air of confidence their father possessed, though his edges were rougher, less polished. His dark suit hugged his broad shoulders, and his expression was a mix of irritation and weariness. “They’re still talking?” Sloane asked, her voice a careful blend of indifference and curiosity. “They’re always talking,” Rowen replied, pouring himself a drink from the decanter on the side table. He downed it in one gulp before looking at her. “What are you doing in here?” “Waiting,” she said simply. “For what? Permission to breathe?” He smirked, but there was an edge to his words. “You’re better off staying out of this one, S. Things are heating up with the Santoros. A body showed up last night.” Sloane stiffened. “A body?” “A soldier from their side. Found in one of our clubs,” Rowen stated. “And you think we had something to do with it?” Sloane asked, incredulously. Rowen shrugged, his lips pressing into a grim line. “Doesn’t matter what I think. They think we did. That’s enough to start a war.” Her stomach tightened. She’d heard the stories, seen the aftermath of the violence, but she’d always been insulated from the full brutality of their world. Until now. “Does Father know?” Sloane asked apprehensively. Rowen snorted. “Of course he knows. He’s in there now trying to smooth things over with our allies. But the Santoros aren’t exactly reasonable.” Sloane opened her mouth to respond, but the door swung open again, and Don Gallagher entered the room. The weight of his presence was enough to silence them both. He was a man carved from stone, his silver hair a testament to years of battles won, his dark eyes sharp and calculating. He didn’t look at his children as he walked to his desk, his steps measured and deliberate. “Sloane,” he said, finally meeting her gaze. “I need you to leave the city.” The words hit her like a physical blow. “What?” she demanded, rising to her feet. “Why?” “It’s not safe for you here,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “The Santoros are looking for someone to blame, and your name has come up. You were at the club last night.” Sloane’s chest tightened. “I had nothing to do with it!” “That doesn’t matter,” her father said sharply. “Perception is reality in this world. They believe you were involved, and they won’t stop until they’ve made an example of you.” “I won’t run,” Sloane said, her voice shaking with a mix of anger and fear. “This is my home. My family. I won’t abandon it because of their lies.” Don Gallagher’s expression softened for a moment, but only a moment. “You are my family, my only daughter, Sloane. And I won’t risk losing you.” Rowen placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip firm. “Listen to him. It’s for the best.” Sloane pulled away, her mind racing. She felt trapped, cornered, powerless. For all her defiance, she knew the truth: in her father’s world, obedience was not a choice. “When do I leave?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Tonight,” her father said. The car ride out of the city was long and silent. Sloane sat in the backseat, her suitcase beside her, staring out the window as the towering skyscrapers gave way to quiet suburbs and then endless stretches of open road. Liam, her appointed protector, drove with the precision of someone used to watching his back. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered, breaking the silence. “You’ll thank him later,” Liam said without looking at her. “You’d be dead within a week if you stayed.” Sloane scowled, crossing her arms. She hated feeling like a pawn, a piece to be moved at someone else’s discretion. But as the miles stretched on, a deeper fear settled in her chest. What if she could never return? What if this was the end of her life as she knew it? When they finally arrived in the small coastal town, dawn was breaking. The pastel hues of the sunrise painted the sky, a stark contrast to the darkness she felt inside. The house Liam led her to was small but comfortable, tucked away on a quiet street where no one would think of looking for a Mafia princess. “This is home now,” Liam said, handing her the keys. “Get used to it.” Sloane stood in the doorway, staring into the unfamiliar space. It smelled like fresh paint and new beginnings, but all she felt was loss. Liam unloaded her suitcase, and then told her he would be back later with supplies. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. For the first time in her life, she was truly alone. But as she stared at her reflection in the mirror by the entryway, a spark of determination flickered in her eyes. “They can take me out of the family,” she whispered to herself. “But they’ll never take the family out of me.”