Bound By Her

Prologue

PROLOGUE

ROME

T oes. Ten toes curled around the smooth, cold stone. The water beside her remained eerily still. Unlike the vast ocean, where the water begins as a gentle light blue near the shore and deepens into a dark abyss as you move further out, this pool was shrouded in an impenetrable inky blackness.

Adria stared at her feet, just inches from the water’s edge. The pool waited—silent, watchful, ancient. Her father had told her these waters predated even the earliest ancestors of the Nine. They had always been here. Long before men gave them purpose.

She glanced behind her.

Rows of eyes stared back.

Some belonged to her father’s friends, seasoned heads of the Nine. Others were younger—heirs, like she had once been. The eldest children of powerful families. Most barely old enough to understand what they were about to witness. Some as young as five.

But it was their eyes that struck her hardest.

Wide with awe. Heavy with dread.

They weren’t just watching her. They were staring at their future .

Because one day, they would stand here. Barefoot on this same stone, with the weight of legacy pressed into their spine. The pool would wait for them, too.

And if they failed…

Adria knew they would stare at the pool the hardest after she jumped. Their insides churning, haunted by visions of the present and future.

A hand grasped her shoulder, and she turned. It was Alessandro, head of the Nine. Next to him was Jonathan, her father’s Right Hand.

Alessandro turned her to face him, grasping both shoulders, his kind eyes finding hers.

“Child, there is not a doubt in my mind that you can do this. No one likes to see an initiate take on the task of ascension so young, but we do not choose when we die. And eventually, the darkness consumes us all.”

Adria nodded, feeling her heart pounding in her chest as she struggled to maintain her composure. She hoped that Alessandro wouldn’t notice the sweat beading down her back.

He gave her a solemn nod before turning to face the counsel. Jonathan tried to rest a hand on her back, but she twisted away.

“The darkness is nothing to fear,” Alessandro said, his voice booming into the cavern. “Because we are the darkness; we are the shadows. May the unseen hand steady your course, and may your balance never falter?—”

“—We are the Balance. We are the Watchers. We are the Fear.”

Everyone in attendance whispered in return, “We are the fear.”

Adria whispered the Nine’s motto to herself. Somewhere behind her, it was etched on the stone walls. Along with the Nine’s family symbols.

“For over five hundred years, the Nine have ruled. Maintaining balance, we guide and are the unseen power between order and chaos. Kings and Queens rule, and we let them, allowing them to believe they rule unchallenged—but we know the truth: the Nine are the ones that shape empires. And while it is hard to see young Adria have to take on this task, it is our rituals and dogma that have held us together. That bind us, and guide us.”

“Adria,” Alessandro said, turning to meet her eyes once again, “we all believe we will see you at the next opposition. But in order to ascend and take your place as head of the family, you must first be reborn.”

He took a step towards her, and Adria’s body shook. She didn’t want to be scared. She wanted to be brave. She wanted every young eye to look at her and feel less fear.

So, when their time came, they would be brave, and their successors would then be brave when it was their turn.

Because as long as the Nine continued their reign, the ritual of the eldest would continue.

Ascend or die.

The knife from Alessandro’s robe flashed, and Adria had to bite her tongue to keep from crying out as the metal pierced her skin. She closed her eyes, severing contact with those around her.

Two cuts at the base of each wrist. Two members of the counsel were ready with golden chalices to collect the blood as it poured from her veins. If she lived, they would toast to her victory. If she failed, they would pour the cups over the dark waters.

Adria knew the stories. She had very little time before the loss of blood affected her motor functions and eventually killed her.

Not wanting to waste a moment, she turned to the pool.

“We are the fear; we are the darkness,” chanted behind her .

Taking in the biggest breath of her life, she jumped into the frigid waters. Her eyes glanced up, watching the last bit of cavern lights dance at the water’s surface before darkness took her vision.

Forty stories above the icy waters ran the streets of Rome and a towering high-rise office building. Half the lights were out, as most of the building’s occupants had long since gone home for the night.

Across the street, tucked just beyond the reach of a streetlamp, a man sat inside a parked car. Cloaked in shadow, his eyes never left the building’s entrance.

His phone vibrated.

Unknown Number: Has it started?

X: She went in about an hour ago.

Unknown Number: The initiation will start soon.

X shifted in his seat, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm on the steering wheel. He stared at the glowing screen for a long moment before finally typing the message he had dreaded, yet felt compelled to send.

X: I’ve been watching her for months. She’s barely seventeen. You need to be prepared. She might not make it.

…

The three dots blinked.

Paused .

Disappeared.

X wondered if he had overstepped.

Then, the response came:

Unknown Number: She won’t fail. She is a Federov .

So, he waited.

Minutes bled into hours. Across the street, the building loomed, silent and patient. In the pre-dawn stillness, X finally began to see movement.

They wouldn’t all leave at once. That would draw too much attention. No, the Nine were too careful for that.

One by one, he watched them file out.

The Cahill family.

The Red Scorpions.

Vollaros.

The Triads.

The Lovetts.

Winters.

The Zuma family.

By X’s count, only two remained: Alessandro’s faction of the Cosa Nostra—and the girl.

The Federov girl.

As the sun crested the skyline, washing the building in soft shades of pink and crimson, X sat still, his heart heavier with each passing second. He scanned the street, expecting the arrival of the unmarked black sedan that would discreetly retrieve the girl’s body.

If she failed the initiation, if she died tonight, the Federov bloodline would end. No viable heir. No second chances.

And the cruelest part? She didn’t even know what had really been at stake.

He reached for his phone to send word of her presumed failure .

And froze.

The lobby doors swung open.

There she stood, framed by marble and morning light. A young woman in an oversized black coat, her hands buried deep in its pockets, pulling it tight around her small frame. Her expression unreadable. Cold. Composed.

Even from across the street, X saw the family resemblance.

Her hair was bundled tightly atop her head, damp with sweat and water.

She had gone into the pool.

And she had survived.

His fingers flew across the screen.

X: The Federov line lives!

The reply came almost instantly.

Unknown Number: You know what to do.