Mafia's Vow of Betrayal

Dominic I’ve never been the kind of man who wastes time with pleasantries, especially not when it comes to the likes of Sofia Rossi. Her father’s enemies are my family’s problem now, and I’ve been assigned to make sure she’s kept safe. It’s the worst f*****g job I could’ve been handed—babysitting the daughter of my family’s biggest rival—but it’s not like I have a choice. I stand in the grand entryway of her father’s mansion, scanning the room, but my attention is on her from the moment she enters the scene. She’s standing at the window like she’s some sort of regal figure, her back straight, her chin lifted. She doesn’t acknowledge me when I step in, but I feel her eyes on me. She’s aware, like she always is, that she’s being watched. And trust me, I’m not thrilled about it either. When she finally turns, I see it—resentment, sharp as a blade in her eyes. She doesn’t hide it. Not even a little. And frankly, it’s the last thing I need. But I can’t stop myself from looking at her. There’s something in the way she holds herself, like she’s already been through more than she should have to. And I know that feeling all too well. “You must be Dominic DiCarlo,” she says, her voice laced with that smooth sarcasm. She doesn’t bother pretending she’s pleased to meet me. “I am,” I reply, keeping it short. I’m not here to exchange pleasantries, and I don’t expect any from her. “Your father sent me. I’m your shadow now.” I know I’m probably pissing her off, but I don’t care. She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t get that her life is in danger, that if something happens to her, there’s a whole new war waiting to happen. My job is to make sure that doesn’t happen. She stares me down like she’s got all the time in the world to make my life hell. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen a look like that. There’s anger, sure, but there’s something else too—like she’s been pushed into this life she didn’t ask for, and it’s wearing her thin. “I don’t need a babysitter, DiCarlo,” she snaps, her arms folding tightly across her chest. It’s not just the words that piss me off. It’s the way she says them, like she thinks I’m nothing more than an inconvenience to her perfect little world. “I’m not here to hold your hand,” I say, voice low, irritated. “But you’ll learn that people like me aren’t optional.” Her gaze sharpens. “People like you?” she repeats. “You mean people who destroy lives for a living?” The words hit harder than they should, but I keep my face neutral. The thing is, I know exactly what she’s trying to do—poke and prod until I react. To make me snap, to make me feel as useless as she believes I am. But I’ve been through enough to know better. I’m not going to give her that satisfaction. “I’m here to keep you alive, Sofia,” I say, and it sounds colder than I meant it to. But it’s the truth. “And that’s all you need to know. Whether you like it or not.” She makes a noise in the back of her throat, something between a scoff and a laugh, but it’s bitter. “What, you think you’re the hero in this story?” she says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I don’t think. I know,” I reply, stepping forward, closing the distance between us. It’s not that I want to be this close to her. I’d much rather be anywhere else, but I’m not backing down. Not now. Sofia doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back away. Instead, she tilts her head, studying me. “How long do you think you can keep up this... ‘protector’ routine?” she asks. “Because I’m not the damsel you’re expecting to save.” I don’t know why her words hit so hard. Maybe it’s because she’s right in a way. She doesn’t need saving, not from me. But she does need someone. She doesn’t get that yet. And I’m the one who has to make sure she stays alive to figure that out. “I’m not here to save anyone,” I say, my voice rougher now. “I’m here to do my job, which involves keeping you safe. And if you think you can run away from that, I’ll make sure you regret it.” Her eyes narrow, and for a second, I see something flicker in them—maybe it’s fear, maybe it’s something else. But it’s gone before I can really process it. “You don’t get it, do you?” she says finally, her voice softer but still tinged with that anger. “This whole thing... my father, your family... it’s a mess. And you’re right in the middle of it.” I don’t want to admit it, but she’s right. This isn’t just some random assignment for me. This is personal. My family and hers have been at war for years, and I’m caught in the middle of it, just like she is. “I know exactly what I’m in the middle of,” I tell her. “And if you think this is hard, you’ve got no f*****g clue.” She’s silent for a long moment, her eyes searching mine, like she’s trying to figure me out. Maybe she sees more than I want her to. “Just don’t get in my way,” she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Because if you do, Dominic, we’ll both end up in hell before this is over.” And just like that, I know this isn’t just some assignment. It’s bigger than that. She’s bigger than that. She turns away from me, but I can’t shake the feeling that we’re both walking into something we can’t get out of. --- Sofia I hate him. I really do. But it’s not just because he’s a DiCarlo. It’s because he makes me feel small. I never asked for any of this. The constant danger. The threat. The fear. I’ve spent my whole life keeping my head down, trying to stay out of the way. But now... now I’m stuck with him. And I can’t escape. The worst part? The worst part is that, despite myself, there’s something about him that pulls me in. The way he stands there, so unflinching, so f*****g sure of himself. It makes me want to scream. It makes me want to hit something. But mostly, it makes me want him. I hate the way his presence fills the room. How his every word seems calculated to get under my skin. How he looks at me like I’m not even a person, just something to be controlled. But it’s also the way he doesn’t look away when I stare him down. The way he stands his ground when I try to push him. He doesn’t back off. He doesn’t bend. That’s what scares me. And I don’t know if I’m scared because of the way he makes me feel... or because I know, deep down, that he’s the only person in this world who can protect me. Even if I don’t want him to. --- The door slams shut behind him, and I’m left in the silence of my own thoughts, my pulse hammering in my chest. I stand there for what feels like hours, unable to move. The tension between us lingers in the air, heavy and thick, like a storm waiting to break. And then, just as I think I might go mad with the uncertainty of it all, I hear his voice again, muffled from the other side of the door. “You think you can do this alone, Sofia? You can’t,” he says, his voice low, deliberate. “And if you don’t start listening to me, you won’t make it out alive.” I freeze, every muscle in my body locking up. The words hang in the air like a warning I can’t ignore. I don’t know whether to hate him or trust him. But one thing’s for sure: I’m not going to get away from him. Not now. Not ever. The door closes behind me with a soft click, and for the first time since I stepped into this godforsaken house, I feel like I’m trapped. And now, I’m not so sure I want to be saved.