My father had various offices located all over the city. Some in warehouses far from the city center and in other smaller businesses, a few bars, one laundromat, and a tiny pub at the edge of Boston. None of them he visited because they were just for show.
This office is no exception with its barren, dusty desk, and cracked walls. A few pictures hang off nails, uneven and covered in cobwebs. There’s a green filing cabinet for show, because my father would never leave real documents where cops could access it, and a broken desk chair that looks as if it’s bent in half. My sister stands behind it, staring down at me.
I shift in the rickety chair, feeling the hinges groan under my weight. It’s rare for us to be alone, to be the only ones in the conversation without Collins to buffer us. Or Pops to dictate.
“What do you know of the decree?”
It’s blunt, direct. The air rushes from my parted lips as my body locks up. The decree.
The decree was a rite of passage within the Irish clan. A time-honored tradition, the Captain would level their decree on to all the clan members who are fully indoctrinated into the organization. Whatever the Captain needed, you would be given a job.
Maeve was given the decree years ago, to be the Captain when Pops died. When Collins was twenty, Pops instructed her to stay in school, finish her medical degree with the intent to be the clan doctor. Being twenty now, just three months short of my twenty-first birthday, it’s about time for me to receive mine.
The fear battles the anger in my gut at my sister’s nearness. The woman who was supposed to protect me, who left me to flounder with our father, and she’s looking down at me like an insect she has to squash.
“Captain’s orders given to those of age,” I shift uncomfortably in the bare chair, my dress riding high. “You can either accept it and do what’s expected or decline it.”
“What happens if you decline?”
I swallow nervously, my sister’s coldness seeping into my veins. “You’re kicked out of the clan.”
“Can’t have people in the clan who aren’t pulling their weight,” she agrees, almost tiredly. Those dark green eyes fasten on to me, so much darker than mine or Collins’.
As far as I’m aware, only the clans do this. Not the Italian families.
“Pops had a plan in place for you. Before he died.” Her wet hair slides along her shoulders, pattering of rain falling to the office. She doesn’t seem bothered by it. “It was written down.”
A chill races down my spine. “What did he want?”
The least she could do was tell me, though I’m sure it was something biting. Send me to a nunnery, forbade me from ever leaving the house. Things he always threatened to do.
“Doesn’t matter now.” She shrugs, seemingly unbothered by our father’s last words. Can’t say I care much, but I expected more from her. Her and Pops were together in the business, I assumed they had a tight relationship. She was his heir, after all.
“Isn’t it in bad taste to go against the last Captain’s orders?”
Maeve tilts her head, a reptilian act that makes her seem like a viper. “No. And I don’t care about old customs.”
“Very New Age of you.”
She leans against the wall, face devoid of emotions, the glass of something deep-brown in her opposite hand. “What do you know about the families in the city?”
Licking my lips, I shrug. “A lot less than you. Unlike you, Pops didn’t tell me anything about his business.”
“He had his reasons.”
I glare at her. “Because he didn’t trust me? Because he didn’t even like me?” I snort, bitterly. He trusted Maeve, he adored Collins.
Maeve wars with something, biting her inner cheek before she sighs tightly. “They weren’t great reasons, kid. But there’s not much one can do against a Captain when they have no power.”
Something about her words strikes me, but not enough to combat the spiral of self-loathing. Not enough for me to stop and listen.
“Fine. Whatever.” I shift again, the chair absolutely a nuisance now. “I know there are two families in our area. Bruno and De Luca. Bruno tends to be toward the North, De Luca toward the South. Pops took over some of their territory, carving out a spot.”
“Years ago, yes.” The ice clinks in her glass, the only sound beside the pelting rain against the half windows, barred from break-ins. “Bruno handles exports. De Luca handles imports.”
“Exporting and importing what?”
I only get silence for my question. Right. She’s going to be like Pops and keep me in the dark.
She probably is just as disgusted with me as Pop was. It would make sense. She never stopped the fights, never defended me against my father. Maybe she agreed with him all along.
“Now that I’m Captain, I have to think of the entire clan. Make sure every action benefits us all.” Those eyes flash with something like malice but it’s gone just as quickly as it comes. “De Luca and I came to an arrangement.”
I cock my head, trying to follow her train of thought. “Alright, good for you. What do you want with me?”
Something tickles the back of my head, a slight warning bell that’s dulled by booze and the somber atmosphere. Something I should pay attention to.
Maeve moves to the old desk, pulling open a screaming drawer that irritates my ears. She grabs a stack of white papers, slapping them on to the desk, the noise jolting me.
“My decree for you is marriage. To De Luca.”
Everything stops. All I can see, focus on are the stark black lines of a written contract on her desk, the ink bleeding into the pages at the points.
It’s so official. So anticlimactic.
Marriage. She wants me to get married?
“No,” I breathe, feeling everything crash inside my chest.
The last bit of love, the last bit of hope that my sister would care about me, shatters to the ground. The fiery ball of anger, of despair explodes like a bomb into my gut, prickling tears to my eyes. Not from sorrow, no, but from rage.
I stand, knocking the chair behind me to the ground. The leg breaks off, the wooden frame too brittle to handle my sudden movement. “Marriage?” I screech, voice ringing out between us. “You’re giving me away in marriage?”
Logically, I knew this was going to be my future. My father threatened multiple times to give me away to someone, to make me the kind of daughter that would please him. In our world, if I didn’t have a talent like Collins or a role to play like Maeve, there wasn’t much else for me other than marriage.
It doesn’t stop me from growing angrier, my hands shaking as I grab the contract, pulling it closer to inspect it. I want to throw it, shred it in front of my sister just for spite. Destroy this last bit of control that she has over me.
“We’re at war, Sloane.” Her words are harsh to my ears. “De Luca handles imports. You might not know this, but we also handle imports.” I didn’t know that, but realistically, I figured it had to be the case. “By forging an alliance, by way of marriage, we can both benefit. The clan benefits.”
“And what about me?” I glare, nails cutting into my hands. “Why don’t I get a say?”
Calmly, my sister shrugs. “You don’t. You’re a daughter of the clan, a sister to the Captain. Even you don’t get to find a way out of your duty.”
My eyes find Maeve’s calm face, rage licking my insides. Not one ounce of concern, sorrow, or sympathy mars her pale frozen face. And that hurts more than anything else. She doesn’t care.
Panic claws at my throat as I halt the urge to break everything in the office.
“Why me?”
Maeve shrugs again. “It wasn’t going to be me, Sloane.”
Because I’m expendable. Because, as Captain, I’m just an extension of her.
Just as Pops used us to show off his wealth. Just like he used to ignore me when I didn’t please him. Shove me away as if I didn’t matter, didn’t belong.
Now she’s just doing it differently. She’s taking me completely out of the only home I’ve ever known, the only family I have left. She’s tossing me away.
“I hate you,” I whisper, one single tear sliding down my cheek. I quickly wipe it away.
Maeve swallows, feet shifting. She opens her mouth to say something, thinks better of it, and clears her throat. “I know you do.”
She slides over a pen. A golden one, it shines under the dull florescent lights, sparkling with devious intent. I’m signing my soul away to the Devil and my body knows it, shaking uncontrollably as I hold it pinched between two fingers.
“This is what’s best for you, kid—”
“No,” I cut off. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to act like you care when you’re giving me away to the literal enemy. You don’t get to act like this is for my benefit when it’s just for yours and your precious clan.”
The pen hovers over the line I’m supposed to sign, next to a name that already has a mark. I don’t know this man but only in reputation. A man who people whisper about when no one can hear them, who people give a wide berth to him and his family. He’s ruthless and cruel, a man that now will be my husband.
Alessio De Luca.
And Maeve says this is for my benefit. Unlikely.
“At least when Pops wanted to hurt me, he’d use his fists,” I mutter, watery eyes blurring the contract on the desk. “You don’t even have the decency to do that.”
I see her flinch out of the corner of my eye. Good. I hope that hurt. Maybe she’ll feel a fraction of how I feel right now.
“You would never do this to Collins,” I say, nails digging into the desk. “She’s perfect and therefore the perfect sister. You’re using me because I’m the fuck-up and you’re cleaning house. Get rid of the problem child and everything is smooth sailing from now on, right?”
She leans over the desk, planting tiny fists into the hard surface. Scars dot over her knuckles.
“What I have planned for you is a Godsend compared to what Pops planned for you. You think it would have been better? That you could have gotten out of it?” She laughs and it’s not pleasant.
My shoulders shake with fear.
Maeve slams a fist into the desk. “No, you would have been cattle for him, a way to gain clout. I’m giving you the best option right now, Sloane. I’m helping you.”
Helping me? “You’re so full of shit. Pops might have married me off, but it would have been to someone in the clan, someone who isn’t accused of murdering his past three girlfriends.” I knew the rumors, knew how terrible De Luca’s heir could be.
We glare at each other, neither of us relenting. We might not have bonded, but stubbornness is a genetic trait we share.
Slowly, Maeve curls back into herself, retaining a hold of her anger that I envy. “Believe what you want, but this is my decree. Either accept and sign the contract or decline. The choice is yours.”
No kind words. Nothing to soften the blow.
This is the decree from Ace, my father’s heir, the emotionless Captain he molded since birth.
“And if not?” My nose tingles, but I refuse to sniffle. To show her she broke me.
“Then leave. But just know, you can’t come back. You’d be turning your back on your family.” Her green eyes are almost black in the dim light with an unknown emotion. “Can you live with that?”
Even though I’ve always felt like the outcast, have always felt neglected, did questionable things just for attention and to feel alive, I don’t want to lose the one thing I have left.
“I accept,” I say, scratching my name into the stack of papers. It feels surreal, an out of body experience as the ink glides across the page, melting into the white with a finality that hangs in the air.
A rush of anger comes over me, the fresh wave of heat causing me to throw the pen into the wall beside my sister’s head. It indents, the tip piercing the plaster with a dart’s precision.
She nods once. “Good choice.”
