Page 11 of Dark Mafia Heir

Still holding my gun, I stand to my feet and glance at the men one after the other, daring any of them to say a word. “Does anyone else have a problem with me leading the Cosa Nostra?”

No one says a word, but they all shake their heads.

A maniac smile splits my lips. “Good. Now, let’s get to business, shall we?”

5

Vivienne

Ipull up to the mansion, the steady drum of rain against the windshield drowning out the engine’s purr. The wrought-iron gates swing open as if they’ve been waiting for me.

My father’s estate looms ahead, bathed in the faint glow of the exterior lights. Normally, the sight of the tall, white building looming ahead brings me comfort, but not ever since that last meeting with my father.

There’s a voice at the back of my mind yelling at me to accept whatever fate I’m dealt, but I can’t just accept the idea of being sold off for the sake of business.

Harper believes Papa won’t trade me off like that, but she’s naïve and trusts him a little more than she should. Papa will do anything for power, including selling both of us off like we’re properties.

The rain intensifies as I step out of the car, cold droplets soaking my hair and running down my cheeks, mixing with the floral perfume I sprayed before leaving the school property.

I clutch my coat tighter around me, my heels sinking into the gravel with every hurried step to make it inside before I’m completely drenched in the rain.

The mansions stands before me, as imposing as ever, but the strange cars parked in front of it make my stomach churn with unease. Cars with plate numbers I haven’t seen before, and men who look like they would burn the house down in a heartbeat if it came to it. I can sense something is wrong.

I stop midway up the steps to the front door. It’s quiet—too quiet. Where are the guards?

Papa likes a quiet house so I don’t expect it to be buzzing at this hour, but there should be maids running around and guards doing their thing. Why is there no sign of life aside from the guards outside?

The rain keeps pouring, and the sound now feels ominous, like a warning I can’t quite decipher. My hand hovers over the doorknob, and I hesitate, heart racing in my chest for no reason I can explain.

Then I hear it.

Gunshots.

Three in rapid succession, muffled but unmistakable, from somewhere deep inside the house.

My breath catches in my throat, and I freeze, hand still on the doorknob. The sound seems to wobble through me, making my legs buckle. I should run. I should scream. I should call someone, anyone. But I’m frozen with fear.

I swallow hard, my head pounding as adrenaline pumps in my veins. Inhaling a sharp breath, I decide I can’t run. This is my home, and I need to make sure Harper and Papa are okay.

My hand shakes as I push the door open. The foyer is dimly lit, and everything looks exactly as it should—the marble floors gleam, the chandelier overhead sways gently from the draftof the open door behind me, but the air inside feels heavier, thicker.

Something isn’t right. The silence, the gunshot. Something’s terribly wrong.

I can’t hear anything now. Just the sound of my blood whooshing in my ears, louder than the rain outside. I step forward, my shoes making soft, wet sounds against the polished floor. My father’s study is down the hall, where the shots came from.

I don’t want to go there. I’m afraid of what I’ll find. Still, I have to go and find out what is happening.

I take another step.

The scent of rain mixes with something else. Something coppery.

My stomach twists as nausea creeps up my throat. My instincts are kicking against me, taking another step towards the study, but I force myself to keep moving, one foot in front of the other. I just need to see my papa. To know he’s okay. That everyone’s okay.

As I approach the study, the door is slightly ajar, light spilling out into the dark hallway. I reach for the handle, my fingers trembling, and push it open.

What I see makes my heart stop.

There are two dead bodies on the floor.

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