The Mark of a Mafia Queen

Prologue RENZO  Five years ago I know that behind every powerful crime family, an extremely effective don waits. A crime lord. A kingpin. A godfather. Boss. Seated at the top of the family's hierarchy, the don's authority is unquestioned, revered, and feared in the same breath. The don makes every hard call and is blamed for every bad one. The most successful ones live in absolute luxury, surrounded by riches and women, and infamy. But they also live on the edge, always looking over their shoulder, sleeping with one eye open. I was initiated into the Romano crime family nearly three months ago. Since then, I've spent almost every day following Leonardo "The Hollowman" Romano around New York City. It wasn't easy to earn a place in the Romano family's tight-knit circle, but as the bastard son of Leonardo's distant cousin-in-law, I had just enough Italian blood to merit a position. Even as just another hired gun, ordered to guard the Romano don with my life. In those short three months, I've learned the characteristics that separated a good don from an effective don, like Leonardo. Effective dons run a painstakingly organized operation, enforce the Omertá with a steel fist, and reward loyalty handsomely. What separates Leonardo Romano from even the most effective bosses, however, is his unpredictability. No one outside of Leo's innermost circle knows his agenda. No one knows the next step he'll take to tighten his steel grip on New York. So, I couldn't understand why the crime boss would suddenly lower his guard and throw a birthday party for his eighteen-year-old daughter, no less. "He does this every year," another guard mumbled from beside me, a cigarette pinched between his lips. "Throws his principessa a party fit for the fuckin' stars." I didn't need to glance over at my fellow guard, Alfonso, to know that a scowl crossed the man's features. Alfonso had been one of Leo's bodyguards for several years, though. He'd earned the right to express his displeasure. I, on the other hand, didn't dare speak out against my boss's foolishness. No matter how much I wanted to. I ground my teeth to avoid voicing my own frustration, my eyes sweeping the lavishly decorated courtyard again. Rose-gold balloons and streamers decorated the clearing, and a half-eaten cake sat abandoned at the center of a refreshment table. There weren't enough teenagers at the party to finish it, and the attending adults were far more concerned with the prosecco glasses lined up next to the dessert. The don paid for his daughter to attend one of the most prestigious girls' schools in the state, but I doubted that any of her classmates had been invited to the milestone birthday. The only other teenagers at the party were Romano cousins, who seemed more concerned with nabbing a flute of champagne than celebrating the birthday girl. At the ripe age of twenty-eight, I might've actually been one of the youngest guests at the party. That's sad as hell, I grumbled to myself. At least she doesn't seem to mind. My gaze flickered to the birthday girl in question. Flanked by Leonardo and her mother, she gasped and peeled back a layer of gold wrapping paper from her latest present. The infamous boss laughed, a deep, rumbling sound, as his daughter carefully lifted a necklace from its case. Even from my place across the clearing, I saw diamonds shimmering on the pendant, and, judging by the look of wonder on Camorra Romana's face, they were big. Blood diamonds, no doubt, I mused. "I'm "Surprised he didn't get her a tiara," Alfonso drawled, clearly unimpressed with the spectacle in front of us. At the center of the courtyard, Leonardo took the diamond necklace from his daughter's hands. She swept a curtain of phony blonde hair to one shoulder and allowed her father to clasp the necklace around her neck. The diamond pendant fell perfectly between the neckline of her golden dress, as if she'd known what her father would give her and chose an ensemble that would best display the jewelry. I couldn't blame Alfonso for his disenchantment with the young woman. Fortunately, Leonardo and his entourage spent little time at the family's Scarsdale mansion. But when the boss did return home to visit his wife and daughter, Camorra seemed determined to wreak as much havoc as possible to gain her father's attention. In those instances, Leonardo dispatched Alfonso to deal with her. Unlucky bastard. "Why did he insist on throwing the party outside?" I finally muttered, crossing my arms against my chest as I scanned the surrounding treeline. An iron gate surrounded the Romano family's property in Scarsdale, New York, but dozens of visitors traversed the mansion's expansive grounds for this party. It wouldn't have been difficult for someone with ill intentions to slip in unnoticed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alfonso shrug. "Maybe he plans on gifting Camorra another horse and didn't want the animal to s**t all over the living room again. Sofia'd have his balls for that." "Again?" One corner of my lips tugged up at the thought of Sofia Romano yelling at her husband. She was the only person brave enough to raise her voice with the dangerous man. My smile faded as Camorra flipped her faux-blonde, beauty pageant curls back over her shoulder and wrapped her arms around Leo's torso. Even from a distance, I saw the adoration rimming her round, doe-like eyes while she gazed at her father. For a moment, I thought I understood why Leonardo Romano chose to risk his own safety to bring such a smile to his daughter's lips. Sofia stepped closer to her little family, wrapping her arms around Leo's neck to sandwich Camorra in her parents' embrace. Despite myself, I smiled. The don's wife tilted her head to press a red lipstick kiss to Leo's cheek, and a deafening CRACK sounded throughout the courtyard. A gunshot, followed by screams. So many screams, then chaos. I bolted into action as partygoers scattered around me. I scanned the treeline for the source of the single gunshot-a precision sharpshooter with a sniper rifle, if I'd heard correctly-but found nothing at first investigation. Other guards were already running for the trees and bushes surrounding the courtyard, so I turned my attention back to Don Leonardo and his family. The breath guttered out of my lungs at the sight of Sofia slumped in her husband's arms. Splattered blood stained her previously immaculate light-pink cocktail dress, stemming from a wound on the back of her head, hidden beneath an intricate brunette updo. "Sofia? Sofia. Amore. Wake up!" Leonardo shouted, struggling to keep her limp body upright. He shook her shoulders, staggering back under the unsupported weight. I lunged forward and wrapped my arms around Sofia's waist, shouldering some of the burdens away from the don. I smelled the blood, and felt it seeping through the fabric of my button-up. She'd been shot. The bullet buried itself deep in the back of her skull, likely killing her on impact. A bullet that would've lodged itself in Leonardo's skull if Sofia hadn't leaned in to kiss his cheek at the last moment. Nausea threatened to creep up my throat. "Boss! Get down. Give me Sofia," I shouted, tugging the woman's limp body away from her husband. Sofia was already dead. Now, I needed to protect Leonardo from a similar fate. "No!" Leonardo growled, half-feral. His grip on his wife's body didn't falter. "Protect Camorra!" I blinked. I'd forgotten about the girl. I cursed, my neck snapping back and forth as I searched for Camorra amongst the chaos. I found her by the sparkling gold of her dress, crumpled on the cobblestone amidst the still-wrapped birthday gifts. She kneeled, unmoving, even as men and women nearly trampled her in their pursuit of safety. Wide hazel eyes stared, unblinking, at the c*****e, unaware that blood splatter covered her as well. Her mother's blood. I glanced back at Leonardo Romano, who'd fallen to his knees and now cradled Sofia's body in his arms. Tears coated the mafia boss' cheeks. The sight unnerved me more than it should have. I didn't think the Hollowman was capable of crying. I needed to secure the boss - ensure our leader's safety above all else, even if it meant forsaking the daughter. At that moment, Leonardo's eyes snapped up and snagged on me, who'd just taken the first step toward him. "COSTA!" Leonardo roared my last name as if he knew that I'd been about to abandon Camorra. "Now!" I froze. I held the don's tear-filled gaze for one long moment before nodding once, a subtle dip of my chin. Obeying my leader's command, I dove toward the gifts toward Camorra. "Principessa." The unaffectionate nickname slipped off my tongue before I could stop it as I stooped to her level. "We need to go. Now." "My m-mamma?" Camorra whispered, silent tears mingling with the crimson splatter on her cheeks. She didn't spare me a glance, never ripping her shell-shocked eyes from her mother and father. She slowly shook her head, her bottom lip trembling. "No...No, mamma!" At last, she moved, crawling on her hands and knees to reach her family. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks now. "No, Camorra," I instructed, wrapping a hand around her biceps and holding her back from her father and dead mother. She struggled against my grip, desperate to break free and reach her family. I held her tighter, growling between clamped teeth, "Camorra! Listen to me." More gunshots cracked across the clearing, and Camorra froze. Instinctively, I pushed her closer to the cobblestone, draping my arms around her to shield her body with my own. Either the Romano guards had found the hitman or the hitman had shot into the crowd again. Regardless, I needed to get the Principessa to safety. The gunshots faded, and the shouting resumed. I peeled away from Camorra. My hands desperately landed on her cheeks, forcing her to hold my gaze despite the chaos unfolding around us. "Camorra, look at me," I demanded. When her wild, terrified eyes attempted to find her parents again, my palms pressed more firmly into her jawline, unrelenting. "Look at me. I need you to hold on to me Tight. Can you do that?" Despite the trauma unfolding around us, she held my gaze for one long moment before nodding. I saw something like determination in her hazel eyes. Good, she'd need that in the coming days. Without wasting another second, I pulled Camorra into my arms, one arm scooping beneath her knees and the other bracing her back. She wrapped her arms around my neck and curled the rest of her body into a tight ball against my chest. Her arms tightened like her life depended on it. Maybe it did. I held her just as tight and stood from the ruin of trampled unopened gifts. She didn't weigh much, having inherited her mother's slight frame, which allowed me to remain half-crouched to keep her shielded from any gunfire. Two more pops echoed through the courtyard from behind the treeline, and I sprinted toward the mansion. I didn't stop - didn't look up - until we burst through the heavy mahogany doors and the scent of cigarette smoke and leather surrounded us. Even then, I didn't put Camorra down. She didn't release me, either. I gasped for breath, a hand absently stroking Camorra's blonde locks, too aware of the warm, sticky blood that coated one side of her head. I'd seen my fair share of death and blood in my lifetime, but never at an innocent's birthday party. Never a mother's blood splattered against her daughter's golden birthday gown. "Camorra?" I rasped after several moments. Voices still clamored outside, but the mansion doors muted the chaos. She didn't answer. Her shoulders simply shook with every sob that escaped her lips, her head buried in the crook of my neck. She continued to clutch at me like a lifeline. I didn't put her down. I wouldn't abandon her now. We remained like that until Alfonso rushed through the doors to inform us they'd located and killed the sniper. The Romano guards neutralized the threat, and the don survived. Sofia was the only casualty. Camorra stayed in my arms throughout it all. Even when I tried to set her on her own two feet, she tightened her hold around my neck. I didn't mind. So long as she stayed by my side, her face hidden against my chest, I could protect her from the gruesome scene in the courtyard, where her father still cradled Sofia's body. I lost track of how much time passed before Leonardo peeled his body away from his dead wife, stood on stiff legs, and finally came to retrieve his daughter. Only the promise of her father's embrace prompted Camorra to release her hold on my neck. I gently set her down, and she didn't look back at me once as she raced to her father's embrace. Leonardo, however, did look back. The boss wrapped his arms around the young woman and clasped her tight against his chest. His swollen eyes were vacant as they held my gaze and mouthed: "Thank you." I nodded once, then quickly looked away. I couldn't hold Leonardo's gaze. Not when I didn't deserve the boss' gratitude. Not when I'd been prepared to abandon Camorra in the courtyard to save her father. Shame clogged my throat, and I turned to retreat before anyone could witness the turmoil racking through my body. Protect Camorra. A simple command, but one that I had nearly been fool enough to ignore. Thank God I hadn't. Protect Camorra, I repeated, cementing the command to memory. Tattooing the order over my heart like an unbreakable promise. And swearing to fulfill that duty until my last breath.