Rosalind
ROSALIND
B lood hammered through my veins as Marco slammed his cell against the wall and announced that Vitto was moving against us. Tonight . Hunter was, understandably, furious. His fingers slammed down on the alarm, sending a silent alert to the nearby safe houses with our men. ETA : five minutes.
" Get ready," he snarled, “ Marco , you’re leading Rat’s boys, I’ll take Stilt’s . Rosie , you go into the cells, take Sofia . The meeting room has a safe room behind the painting on the east wall. Go . Now .” Sofia grunted, grabbing the shotgun from over the fireplace and scurrying down the stairs.
I stood there. " I'm coming with you. ”
Marco's towering frame moved to intercept. But before his objections could find life, Hunter turned, eyeing the look on my face before he gave an imperceptible nod.
" Fine .” He shoved a pistol into my palms. " Take this. Stay in sight. If you’re not on me, you’re on Marco , got it?"
I nodded, the gesture sharp, as I tucked the firearm into my waistband and waited for further instruction. Hunter's gaze lingered, a silent recognition of the darkness nestling beside the light within me. The weight on my back felt natural. My father taught me to shoot from five onwards. Until the day my brother died and I swore I’d never touch another gun. Funny how more than a decade changes a person.
The war room was huge. I didn’t even know this spot existed, but it did. Maps sprawled across tables, territories marked in red, needles poking out all over the place with my old house circled in black. Hunter's crew, scarred and hardened, filed in around us. Each man was a harbinger of vengeance, their eyes reflecting the same brutal purpose that set Hunter's jaw in a hard line.
Marco joined us at the front of the room without a word, his eyes skimming over me with an emotion I couldn't decipher. The room thrummed with energy, every surface bristling with weapons that gleamed dully under the harsh lights. Knives , guns, and darker tools of the trade passed from hand to hand, each exchange a silent promise of pain. Hunter opened a small black case, and I caught a glimpse of a needle and some vials. Must wanna use it on my dad… if he gets the chance.
We dispersed, the last echoes of Hunter's orders a whisper in the air. I felt the walls closing in; the focus was the only thing drowning out the panic that sat just so in my gut. My fingers curled around the pistol, sitting snugly at my back. I wanted to use it, to kill, to defend, but it felt like if I did, I’d be irrevocably changed.
The mansion was silent, transformed into a maze of death, each corridor and room a potential grave. And in the center of it all, I stood, not just a pawn or a prize, but a queen slowly embracing the shadows that came with the crown.
I felt the walls shudder, their bones groaning as The Black Hands exploded simultaneously through the front and back doors. The first volley of gunfire was a thunderclap, announcing hell's arrival.
Hunter moved like the Grim Reaper incarnate, each swing of his arm sending bullets flying with deadly precision. His crew unleashed their fury, answering the breach with a storm of lead .
" Stay close," Hunter barked, not a plea but a command, his eyes fierce pits of onyx in the chaos. He didn't need to tell me twice. My hands were steady as I aimed my gun just above his shoulder. Pop . The body thumped as it hit the ground, and a little thrill ran through me when I saw his gaze of appreciation.
The glass shattered, raining down around us, as smoke billowed into the room. A body hit the floor with a thud, blood blooming beneath him. Hunter pulled me towards him, shielding me with his body even as I heard a hiss escape him.
" Fuck !" Marco spat, reloading with mechanical speed, his face set in lines of concentration that could cut steel.
Every crack of gunfire was loud in the halls. Our men positioned on the banisters above and behind walls while The Black Hands streamed in, wearing thick bullet-proof vests. The stench of death wrapped around us as the world narrowed to survival—the raw, primal fight to draw another breath.
I saw a man's jaw shatter, teeth erupting from his mouth like gruesome confetti; I heard the gurgle of a throat slit before a loud bang and a scream. My stomach churned, but my grip on the gun remained steady. I stuck close to Hunter , Marco just ahead, clearing the way. I watched their backs, making sure no one was going to flank us .
" !" Hunter roared, dragging a man down with a brutal efficiency that stole the breath from my lungs. The thug dropped, life extinguished before he hit the ground, his blood a beautiful splatter against Hunter's inked skin.
A sob clawed up my throat, the sound lost. It wasn't just the violence, the visceral display of power that had my heart thrashing—it was the battle within me, my father's blood calling even as my soul cleaved to the monster I'd wed. This wasn’t a war I’d ever wanted a part of, and as much as I hated my father, he was still my blood. I knew the fate that awaited him. The Cinder Crew were just too strong. Too trained to allow their mafia to fall.
" Move !" Hunter shoved me behind a pillar as debris flew, a near miss that had adrenaline spiking through my veins.
" Take 'em out," he growled, his voice a jagged edge, and his men obeyed without hesitation, their loyalty to him as unyielding as the steel in their hands. Marco looked at me for a brief second before firing at whoever was behind me. My hands instinctively covered my head as my eyes met his, a small smile on his face.
My father's men fell, broken dolls discarded by a child's indifferent hand. Their faces blurred, but each one was a mirror of the man who'd sold me, who'd betrayed me. Anger simmered beneath my skin, mixing with the fear until they were indistinguishable, a cocktail of emotions threatening to drown me. I needed to try to keep a clear head. We’d find him soon enough. Probably hiding behind his last line like the fragile ballsack he is.
I moved through the violence, gaining confidence, the pistol an extension of my will as I fired, taking a moment to hide behind a wall as I reloaded. Hunter's empire was stained with sin, and yet, here I stood, not just surviving but thriving in the darkness that beckoned, seductive, and undeniable. It was kind of fun. I could see the allure. I could also see how easily this much power could drag you into the depths and hold you under until you came up, a skinless corpse.
" Keep your head down," Hunter commanded, never leaving my side, his touch leaving trails of fire on my skin as he guided me through the madness. I’ll give it to him for all his asshole ways… he was someone I was never more grateful to be on my side. Even as bullets whizzed past my head, I felt safe. Protected .
His world was violent, unrestrained chaos, and as I watched him dispatch another enemy with grim resolve, something within me shifted and solidified. My father was right all those years ago. I belonged in this world. I just hadn’t realized it until I was sandwiched between two giants for men, guarding their backs as they shielded me from the front. Marco took out the last two men and then there were none.
A hush descended, sudden and eerie, as my father emerged from the shadows like a specter of my former life. His eyes, so like mine, were hard chips of ice as they met Hunter's —two alphas, circling, calculating. Much to my surprise, Hunter didn’t put one between his eyes. Though , I suppose he had a more… beautiful ending in store. Marco stood tense beside me, shifting me behind him. My father didn’t miss the motion as he laughed.
" Desmond . I see you’re already passing my daughter around," my father laughed.
" Thorn ," Hunter's retort was a guttural snarl. The space between them crackled with an electric current of hatred and unspoken threats.
" My daughter's blood will be on your hands," Vitto hissed, his gaze flicking to me briefly, a twisted sneer distorting his features. “ Killing me won’t kill The Black Hands .”
Hunter's laugh was a dark rumble, a sound that set my heart racing for reasons I couldn't name. " She's no longer your concern, old man. Desmond is Cinder Crew now."
My chest tightened, fear and anger waging war within me. That name, my name on his lips, was claiming in and of itself. My father's actions, his willingness to spill my blood for his cause, seared away any remaining illusion of paternal affection.
I stepped forward, the decision crystallizing in my mind. This man before me, who had given me life only to use me as a pawn, had pushed me beyond the brink. Each step I took towards him was a step away from the girl who once wished he’d care about me.
" Enough ," I breathed out, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside. My finger caressed the trigger of the piece, hanging loosely at my side.
Hunter's gaze swung to me, black eyes wide with something akin to respect—or was it recognition? He saw the change, the fall from grace that mirrored his own descent into darkness.
I stood there, not as sunshine but as storm clouds gathering on the horizon, ready to unleash the fury of my newfound power. And in that moment, I knew there was no going back.
Vitto's eyes found mine, the cruel glint within them slicing through the fog of war. My father—the man who'd bartered me away without a second thought, his love a twisted, demented thing that had left deep scars upon my soul .
" ," he spat my name like a curse, and with it, any lingering bond shattered. I stepped forward, the distance between us closing. The world narrowed to the space where we stood: a daughter betrayed and a father who'd forsaken his right to the title.
" Fuck you," I growled, voice low and laced with venom. There was no room for hesitation here, not in the darkness that had claimed me and shaped me into something fierce and unyielding. Hunter's gaze burned into me, but I didn't waver, didn't falter.
The room fell eerily silent, the moans of the wounded dimming as if they were waiting. Waiting on me. My hand trembled, pulse pounding in my ears, a drumbeat heralding the end. This was the moment of reckoning, the crossroads where destiny awaited my command.
And then, clarity blossomed amidst the chaos, stark and merciless. The girl who had once frolicked in the light was gone, her innocence a casualty of the brutality that had forged her anew.
I squeezed the trigger, the gunshot a thunderclap that echoed through the stillness. Vitto crumpled, his eyes wide with shock, a crimson bloom spreading across his chest like a rose unfurling its petals.
I stood over him, breaths coming in ragged gasps, the gun in my hand a leaden weight. His life leaked away onto the marble floor, a river flowing from the shell of a man who'd ultimately been my maker and my destroyer.
In that single, defining heartbeat, I became what I had never dreamed nor desired to be—a queen crowned in blood, ruling beside a dark monarch in a realm where mercy was a foreign concept.
As silence reclaimed the halls, I felt Hunter's presence behind me, a looming shadow that promised both refuge and damnation. His touch would come next. But for now, I remained motionless, staring down at the ruin of my father.
Hunter’s shock at my action flickered across those nearly black eyes, quickly replaced by something darker, more intense. Admiration ? Respect ? It was a heady thing, being seen not as an afterthought but as his wife. His equal.
" Fuck ," Marco breathed. “ That was damn sexy, sunshine.”
" Marco !" Hunter barked, no longer the quiet observer. " Debrief the boys, double down on the fucking security."
" Got it, boss." Marco acknowledged with a nod, his baby blues sharpening with purpose.
" Scouts , move out. We need intel on who's taking the reins now," Hunter commanded, voice edged with steel.
was nothing but a name now, a remnant of who I used to be. I stood amidst the destruction, my senses raw with the scent of death. Once soft and unmarred, my hands were stained with my creator's lifeblood.
" Come here," Hunter murmured, wrapping an arm around me. His touch was surprisingly gentle. He guided me away from the scene, from the body that used to be my father.
The fortress that had been my prison, then my sanctuary, was now a tomb. Men lay crumpled, their lives extinguished in the name of loyalty and power. I stepped over them, numb to the brutality I'd become a part of.
Our room was so different from the battlefield that had raged only a few minutes prior—quiet, private. He didn't speak; he simply held me close and whispered to me, even though I couldn’t make out the words. The damaged pieces within me curled around the comfort he offered.
" Are you okay?" His question was a whisper against my hair, his breath hot on my skin.
Okay ? The word seemed foreign, inadequate. I stared back at him, unable to explain the empty abyss that had settled in my heart. Shell shocked, yes, but alive. I hardly heard as he walked away and started the shower before coming back and stripping me. I was too stiff, too numb to move, allowing him to pick me up and carry me into the bathroom .
The heat of the water licked at my skin, feeling weird compared to the cold clutching my insides. Hunter’s hands skimmed over my flesh with a tenderness I never expected him capable of, washing away more than just the grime of battle. His touch seared through the numbness, awakening parts of me I thought would be quiet for a long time.
" Lean back," he growled, no room for argument in his tone. The command in his voice was familiar, comforting in its authority. I obeyed, letting my head dip into the water, feeling it cascade over my scalp. His fingers worked through my hair; he’d picked my strawberry shampoo as he untangled knots like he was unraveling the chaos inside me.
I caught his gaze, those nearly black eyes of his piercing through the steam. They held shadows, reflections of the darkness we both harbored now. But there was something else there, too—a fierce protectiveness that wrapped around me.
" Turn ," he said, a single word cutting through the silence. He tended to each bruise, each cut with an intensity that left me breathless. His touch on my skin stoked a fire that had nothing to do with the violence we'd seen.
Out of the bath, he wrapped a towel around me, the fabric rough against my heated skin. We moved in a quiet dance, his body guiding mine to the bed where fresh linens lay crisp and untouched by the night's sins.
" Sit ," he instructed, and I perched on the edge, the towel clinging to my damp body. His presence enveloped me, a living shield from the chaos that still whispered beyond these walls. He knelt before me, his silhouette a dark promise against the soft light of the room.
My heart hammered as he positioned himself between my legs, kneeling as he looked into my eyes. His hands found mine, resting on my knees, his thumbs rubbing circles into my skin.
" Are you okay?" Again , his question rumbled through the space between us, laced with concern and something heavier.
Okay ? How could I be okay? I stared down at him, my vision blurring. Everything was different now. I’d been riding the line, not truly understanding what this world was until tonight. I thought I did, but pulling the trigger and watching the life die out of my father's eyes really hit home.
" ?" He pressed, his voice a rough whisper against the storm within me.
But words failed me. My throat tightened, choking back the screams clawing their way up. His gaze searched mine, seeking answers I couldn't give, reading the turmoil that twisted my features.
“ I … I’m okay.” I could see his concern as he got into bed and pulled me into him. He kept talking in a low voice, and I caught snippets of an old fairytale, The Frog King , and how the princess chose the prince even though it meant she’d stay an ugly frog.
I fell asleep thinking how like us that was.