Bound to the Enforcer (Dark Mafia Tales)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Sophia

T he funeral ended hours ago, but it feels like it's still dragging on. The air in the house is suffocating, thick with the scent of flowers and the weight of loss. I stand in my room, staring at the walls lined with portraits of family members long gone. They've all watched over me and guided me, but none of them are here now. None of them can explain what happened.

I reach for my father's journal. His handwriting is sharp and deliberate, but there's a distance to the words now. A coldness that wasn't there before. I've always believed my father knew everything and understood the undercurrents of this world in a way that kept me safe. But now, with him gone, I'm left in the dark, grasping at shadows.

The pages are filled with reminders of his lessons, notes on our family's business, and thoughts on power. But it's the last page that catches my attention. I've read it over and over again since I found it earlier today.

Trust no one.

I crumple the paper, feeling the weight of the words settle in my chest. The realization hits me like a hammer. My father hasn't just been worried about his enemies. He's been worried about us. About me. And now, without him, I'm exposed, vulnerable to whatever comes next.

"The war within." He's spoken about it in passing, and now I wish more than ever I had paid more attention. I've been so wrapped up in my own world of classes, boys, and parties that I didn't hear the warnings he was trying to give me. My yearning for a "normal college life" made me docile and oblivious to what had been happening right in front of my eyes.

THE SIGNS HAD ALL BEEN THERE.

Twenty-three and now the responsibility of the organization rests on my shoulders. I didn't want the crown then, and still it's been thrust upon me.

There's a knock at the door, but I don't need to be told who it is. I know that heavy, deliberate knock from anywhere.

It's Alessio.

I don't want to see him. He's the last person I want near me. I knew that he was meant to protect me, but with all that had gone on in the last few days I don't know if he can.

The door opens, and there he is. Tall, imposing, his dark eyes scanning the room, taking everything in. He always does that. Always watches and calculates.

"You should rest," he says. "You haven't slept."

"I'm fine," I reply, though the words feel hollow.

Alessio steps inside, his presence filling the room. It isn't just his size—it's the way he carries himself, the way everything about him screams control. Even his quiet commands attention. I hate how easily he can fill a room like that, how effortlessly he makes it clear that I'm never alone when he's around.

It is all unnerving. I had never liked this man in the past, and I certainly do not like him now. He carries a heavy cloud of darkness around him. Even as someone who grew up in this world, his energy is something unworldly.

"Go away, Alessio." I stare into his dark chocolate eyes.

"You're not fine," he presses. His eyes are set on me, not an ounce of emotion swimming in them. "You need to sleep. You're starting to resemble a raccoon."

I rub at my eyes. "Ha ha, you're not funny, Alessio. Leave."

"I wasn't trying to be." He folds his arms over his chest. "Have you eaten?"

"Why does that concern you?"

"Everything about you concerns me now. The amount of breaths you take, the steps you make. Hell, even the amount of times you take shits per day is my business now."

I scrunch my nose in disgust. "You're disgusting."

"And you're childish." He steps into the room, his presence towering over me. "You are now the head of the Romano family. You don't have time for tears or to feel sorry for yourself. The sharks are gathering, Sophia."

I narrow my eyes. "You think I don't know that?"

Alessio doesn't answer immediately. He just watches me, his stare hard, but there's a glint of something in his eyes that I can't place.

"The situation's worse than you realize. We're not just dealing with the loss of your father," he says. "Someone wanted him dead. And now they'll come for you."

I cross my arms over my chest, refusing to let the fear creep in. "I can take care of myself."

"You can't." The words hang in the air, stark and cold. Alessio's expression doesn't change, but there's something in the set of his jaw, something in his posture that makes me want to believe him, despite myself. "You're not as strong as your father was. You can't fight this on your own."

I clench my fists. "I don't need your protection. I don't need anyone."

Alessio takes a step closer, his presence overwhelming. "You need someone. Whether you like it or not, I'm here because your father trusted me to keep you safe. That's the only reason I'm here."

The words sting more than they should have. My father's trust. I've always known it was a heavy burden to carry. But now it feels like a chain wrapping around my neck, tightening with every word Alessio speaks.

"My father's dead, Alessio," I say. "Whatever loyalty you owe to him, you don't need to give to me. I am fine on my own."

Truth be told, I'm not fine, not in the slightest. I have this big gaping hole in the middle of my chest. I'm all alone now. My mother, whom I never knew, died during childbirth. She's been nothing but a ghost from the moment I took my first breath. But my sister, Amelia, and my father, they had been… they had been my whole heart, and now my chest is left empty.

But I would never dare utter those words out loud. My pain is a weakness that could easily be exploited if I allowed it.

"You can leave." I glare at him, making sure I send all my fury his way. I run a hand through my thick brown waves and sigh heavily. The fatigue slams into me. The past three days have been nothing short of draining.

Alessio rubs his stubbled jaw and scoffs. He walks over to my window and pulls the lace curtain away to look out into the yard.

"You are a piece of work. I cannot believe that you have the same blood that ran through Alejandro Romano. What a disgrace. Pitiful."

"Pitiful?" The rage pools in my blood like tar.

He turns his head ever so slowly in my direction and levels me with his cool stare. A subtle shiver runs down my spine at the intensity in his eyes.

I'm not afraid of Alessio De Luca. But anyone would be a fool not to be wary of him. They call him the Reaper. Whenever you find your way in his path, you'll surely find death around the corner. It's no wonder my father made him his second. He is dark, deadly, and lethal. The perfect, precise weapon.

I gulp and straighten my back, trying to feign the confidence I currently don't have. "Is that any way to speak to your new boss, soldier ?"

"Please, I've seen gerbils far more ferocious than you. You are no mafia boss, sweetheart." He moves away from the window and stalks over to me. His deep chocolate eyes hold me in my spot. "You are nothing more than a prima donna wannabe gangster who is way over her head."

My jaw hits the floor. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, angel."

My back stiffens. "What did you just call me?"

He ignores my question. "You don't know the first thing about what it takes to run an organization, much less one the size and power of the Romano outfit. Without my help, you will be dead before morning."

I click my tongue on the roof of my mouth. "Bold of you to make such claims, seeing as you failed your last boss. Where is he now? Oh yes, six feet deep in the dirt!"

All the humor and cockiness fade from his gaze. Alessio's jaw tightens. He doesn't respond right away, but I can feel the pressure building.

It's about control, about loyalty, about survival. And in that moment, I realize just how much I hate that I can't escape it.

Before I can speak again, another knock raps on the door.

Domenico. He has been lingering around me like Casper the freaking ghost.

He steps inside without waiting for an invitation, his sharp hazel eyes flicking from me to Alessio and back again.

"Soph, I've been looking for you," Domenico says; his tone is soft, completely unlike the brazen and hard man I have dealt with all my life. "Are you okay?"

This man had never once checked on me before the death of my father. He more or less pretended like I didn't exist. In his mind, women were to be admired and seen, never to be heard. His laws and thinking are archaic, but many within the mafia world believe the same. They are a bunch of backward-thinking Neanderthals.

I don't acknowledge his words. Alessio, who has been standing tall and firm, notices my change in mood.

"I think she's been through enough," Alessio says, the edge sharp.

Domenico smiles, but it's a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. He crosses the room with that unnerving calm, as though nothing could touch him. "That's the problem, isn't it? She's been through too much. And it's only just begun."

His eyes flick to me, assessing. I meet his gaze without flinching, though a chill runs down my spine. Domenico has a way of looking at people that makes them feel like prey. And right now, I'm the one on his radar.

"You don't have to do this alone." His words are like smooth honey. "You need to think about your future. You need to think about your empire. Your father built something powerful. And now, it's yours."

I clench my jaw. "I know and intend to grow that empire to even greater heights, just as he wanted."

Domenico takes a step closer, his smile widening. "I see. But this business of women running organizations is bizarre, no? When have we ever had a woman as a leader? The answer is never, and there is a reason for that."

"We have one right now," Alessio speaks up. "She will be the first, and I am sure she will not be the last."

My uncle's jaw locks in place. The greys in his beard show far more than the last time I saw him. Age is catching up with him. The tension riddles his body, and the edge in his tone tells me all I need to know.

He is trying to make a claim to the throne. I am not stupid. I can read between the lines. It's obvious.

"I feel I can offer you a helping hand of sorts. You are still young, fresh out of college and too fresh for this world, cara . Twenty-three is no age to be playing gangster. There is much you need to learn and no one to teach you. Apart from me, of course."

There it is. His play. I wonder if he still thinks I am still that naive little girl that he once knew. I am no longer that 10-year-old girl who screamed at the sight of the slightest darkness. I've seen things. My father was assassinated before my very eyes.

"I don't need your help," I say. "I'll handle things on my own. And besides, you know the laws. The next direct blood will take the chair of the family. Had I not been alive, Uncle, then you would have assumed the throne. You would need the rest of the five families to agree for you to usurp me and take my place."

He huffed with a forced smile on his lips. "Well then, we thank the heavens you are alive."

"Yes." The air around us chills. "We do."

Domenico's eyes shine, a small chuckle escaping his lips. "Your spirit burns like my brother's. Well, I wish you luck, cattiva ."

He steps forward and closes the distance between us. Alessio moves to my side in warning, but my uncle continues on. He leans down and kisses my cheek gently. When he pulls away, a flash of something moves across his hazel eyes. But as quickly as it comes, it leaves just as fast.

"The night is dark, Sophia. Be careful of what lurks in it."

I watch him leave, the door shutting behind him with a finality that sends a shiver down my spine. I am well aware of the brooding 6'3" bodyguard staring down at me, but my mind is still replaying what my uncle just said to me.

"Trust no one." My father's last entry in his journal screams in my mind. This is only the beginning.

There is blood in the water, and the sharks are swarming.