The Girl Who Stopped Loving the Mafia Don

The night Damian Knight bought me out of the underground market, I gave him my life and my love.

Seven years later, he proved it was worth less than nothing.

I was promoted to underboss of the Knight family. The youngest in Knight history. The only woman.

I thought that meant something.

Then he brought a girl home.

I remember because I'd just walked in from a job. Blood on my collar, still tacky against my throat.

He walked in with a girl on his arm.

"Jesus, Selene—" He looked at me like I was something stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

"Go clean yourself up. You're scaring her."

That girl became his obsession. His soldiers started calling her Mrs. Knight behind my back.

Damian took the guns out of my hands. Replaced them with an apron. Tied it around my waist himself — tightened the bow at the small of my back like he was giftwrapping me for her.

His hands didn't even tremble.

From then on, I was her personal servant.

When she didn't feel like eating, Damian made me kneel at her feet and feed her bite by bite. Every scar she got, he carved ten more into my skin — for failing to protect her.

I never cried. I never fought back.

Because years ago, he had asked me: "You want to repay me? Do a hundred things for me."

I pulled out the worn notebook. Looked at the last two lines.

Soon, I would owe him nothing.

I was carrying a tray to Iris Vale's room when Damian stopped me in the hall.

"Selene. Go get your sister's bracelet. Iris wants it."

That bracelet was the only thing my parents left Luna. She slept with it under her pillow every night.

He saw my eyes go red. His face went dark.

"Selene."

When Damian used my full name like that, it meant he was done talking. Everyone in the family knew what came next.

Two days ago, I'd refused to hand over my sunglasses to Iris at the riding ground. Damian had me tied behind her horse and dragged across the field.

An entire afternoon. Gravel against bare skin.

I turned around. Went to Luna's room. Took my sister's bracelet and slid it onto Iris's wrist.

"It suits you."

Damian smiled. Pulled Iris against his chest. "I've got hundreds of men. Not a single one as brokenin as her."

He looked at me over Iris's shoulder. "Keep her happy, Selene. Maybe we can still talk about that wedding."

Before I could respond, Iris slammed the bracelet onto the floor.

"Damian — you swore you'd only marry me!"

Tears streaming. Damian's whole face crumbled. He scooped her up and carried her to the bedroom without a word.

I dropped to my knees and gathered the shattered pieces. Porcelain bit into my fingers. Blood mixed with the broken edges.

The people around me watched like it was a show.

Even I knew how pathetic I looked.

Last month, I'd nearly died on a mission. Damian stood over my hospital bed — tubes coming out of everywhere — and looked at me like I was a waste of resources.

"You've gotten weak, Selene. A handful of men did this to you?" He paused. "Then again — Iris needs a new maid."

I squeezed the broken pieces tighter. My eyes burned worse than my hands.

That night, Luna saw her mother's bracelet in pieces. She cried until she could barely breathe.

I held her. "Just a little longer. We'll be free soon."

The door slammed open. Damian filled the frame, jaw clenched.

"Stop crying. You just woke Iris up."

He jerked his chin toward the hallway. "Take your sister to the house on the west side. Now."

Before I could say a word, his men shoved us into a car. Luna screamed at him through the window — "Damian! You weren't like this before — please —"

He froze. Just for a second.

The corridor went dead silent.

I clamped my hand over Luna's mouth. Her tears ran hot between my fingers.

I had learned to keep quiet after Iris came.

When I begged Damian to let me stay at the compound, he stripped my title in front of everyone. Years of work — gone in one sentence.

When I asked Iris to stay away from the shooting range, he pressed a gun to my forehead and told me to remember my place.

When he got wounded and I brought him soup, he hurled the bowl at the door. "Quit hovering. Iris is gonna think something's going on."

But he had been the one to say he loved me first.

He had been the one to say he wanted to marry me.

I pulled my hand away from Luna's mouth. She was still crying softly.

The house on the west side sat on the border between warring families.

A death trap.

I jumped out of the car and ran back to the villa. Knocked on the bedroom door.

The sounds inside stopped.

A glass bottle shattered against my forehead. I bit down on the pain and bowed.

"Miss Vale, I apologize for my sister. I promise she won't disturb you again."

Damian stared at the blood running down my face. His chest was heaving.

"Who the hell are you trying to fool with that shit? People are gonna think Iris did that to you."

I ignored him. Kept my head down. Kept apologizing.

Finally, I knelt and pressed my forehead to the floor.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Iris yawned. "I'm tired, Damian. Just let her go."

He kissed her forehead. Shook his head like she'd said something precious.

"You're too damn soft, baby. People are gonna walk all over you."

Then he turned to me. "You care about your sister so much? Walk her there yourself."

That night, Luna's fever hit a fourty four.

I carried her on my back through a blizzard. For hours.

In the hospital waiting room, I pulled out the notebook and wrote two words under the list.

Bracelet.

Two more things.

Then I would be free.

The house on the west side was far from the compound.

Before dawn the next morning, I was already on my feet, heading back to the villa to make Iris's breakfast.

The snow had stopped. The cold hadn't.

I barely made it through the kitchen door before Damian's men grabbed me. Bound my hands. Shoved a gag in my mouth. Threw me into the back of an armored SUV.

When they pulled me out, I was on my knees in the middle of a private shooting range.

Oak trees stripped bare. Targets lined up at fifty yards.

And at the far end — Damian, with his arm around Iris, whispering something in her ear.

He looked at me like I was livestock.

"Go stand over there." He pointed at the target board.

My head snapped up. "She's never touched a gun in her life. I'll die."

Iris's face crumpled. She pressed herself into Damian's chest. "Damian, Selene's right. I'm so useless. Maybe I shouldn't—"

"Don't say that." He kissed her temple. "You'll be a marksman. I promise."

Then, over the crown of her head, without looking up — "What the fuck are you waiting for? Since when do you ignore my orders?"

I didn't move.

My old wounds throbbed under the bandages. Every bullet I'd ever taken for him burned fresh.

He saw me shaking. Stepped away from Iris. Walked across the gravel. Took my jaw in his hand.

"If you don't go, I'll put Luna out there instead." His voice dropped.

"She owes me a life too."

He meant it.

If I refused again, my tenyearold sister would be standing in front of that board.

I closed my eyes. Swallowed the bile in my throat.

"She's small. I'm bigger. Miss Vale will have more fun with me."

Damian's grip loosened. "Good girl."

He turned back to Iris. Showed her how to load the revolver.

She giggled, nervous. "What if I miss, baby? Would you be mad at me?"

He spun the chamber. One bullet at a time.

"Relax. She's eaten hundreds of rounds for me — a couple from you? She won't even flinch."

The first bullet tore through my knee.

I collapsed onto the frozen dirt. Blood pulsed out of my leg in slow, warm thuds, soaking through the wool of my coat.

Through the ringing in my ears, I heard her.

Laughing.

Damian didn't even blink. "Again."

The second shot went into my left shoulder.

I hit the ground facefirst. Blood soaked through my white dress.

His men exchanged looks.

No one moved.

"Get her up," Damian said. Flat. Bored.

Two soldiers hauled me to my feet. My legs barely held.

Third shot. Left abdomen. I coughed blood onto the snow.

Fourth. Right arm.

Iris raised the revolver for the fifth time. Grinning now. Teeth white. Eyes bright.

"Enough." Damian took the gun from her hand.

A flicker of jealousy crossed her face. She stomped her foot. "But I was just getting good at it!"

He hesitated.

Then he glanced at one of his men. "Bring Luna."

"No—" I tried to scream, but the blood in my throat turned it into a gurgle.

"She's only ten. She's still sick. Please—"

Damian's face flickered.

Then he turned away.

"She'll be fine. Iris needs more practice."

I watched through a blur of tears as two soldiers dragged my sister onto the range.

They had her by the elbows — the same way they'd held me. Her bare feet didn't touch the ground between them.

She was so small. Her hair was still wet from the fever.

She screamed my name.

"Selene! Please!"

"Selene! Help me—"

The revolver fired.

Her voice stopped.

I woke up in a hospital bed.

For a moment I didn't know where I was.

Tubes ran into my arms. The heart monitor beeped slow and steady.

Every inch of my body felt like it had been set on fire and stamped out halfway.

"Luna!"

I shot upright. My elbow caught the edge of a tray. A bowl of broth went flying. Soup splashed across the floor.

Damian stood at the foot of the bed, wiping his sleeve. His face was tight — but not with anger. Something else.

Something I hadn't seen in a long time.

I grabbed his wrist with what little strength I had left. "Where is she? Take me to her."

"She's alive," he said quietly.

He didn't pull away.

"She's in surgery. You'll see her when she's stable."

"Surgery?" My voice cracked. "You put a tenyearold girl on a firing range. You let that woman—"

"Iris didn't know the gun was loaded with real rounds." His jaw tightened. "It was a mistake."

"A mistake." I laughed. It came out like a sob.

He knelt beside the bed. Picked up a new bowl of soup from the nightstand.

"You need to eat. You lost a lot of blood."

I turned my head away.

He didn't get angry. Didn't throw the bowl. Just sat there, holding it. Waiting.

For three days, he stayed.

He brought me photographs of Luna in her hospital bed — bandaged, unconscious, but alive.

He spoonfed me broth when I refused to eat. When I pressed my lips shut, he drank the soup himself and kissed me, forcing it down my throat.

I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand. Tore the bowl out of his grip and finished it myself.

He blinked. Surprised.

Then, slowly, he smiled.

For three days, he was the man I had fallen in love with.

I let myself believe him.

Iris Vale came to visit on the fourth day.

She walked into my room in a pale pink dress, hair curled, cheeks flushed. She looked like she'd just come from a garden party — not from nearly murdering a child.

She stood when she saw my eyes open. Smoothed her dress slowly.

Then she picked up the small crystal vase from my bedside.

It hit the floor and shattered.

She pressed her palm down hard against the shards.

I watched her do it.

By the time she lifted her hand, her palm was a mess of bright red and broken crystal. Tears she hadn't had two seconds ago were already streaming down her cheeks.

" Selene!" she sobbed. "Why would you push me — Damian, help —"

The door burst open.

Damian saw the glass first. Then Iris — on her knees, bleeding into the rug.

Then me. Halfupright in the hospital bed. Bandaged. Still hooked to the IV.

But hands empty.

"What happened?" He rushed to her side.

The man who had spent four days holding my hand at night vanished.

That man came back.

His head snapped toward me.

"Selene Ashford. Have you lost your fucking mind?"

He pulled Iris into his arms. Her cheek against his collar. His palm cradling the back of her head. His eyes — over the crown of her hair — were murderous.

"Apologize to her."

I stared at him. "I didn't do anything."

Iris tugged his sleeve. "Damian, please don't be angry with her. She's so sick."

He kissed her forehead. "You're too soft."

Then he looked at me. "Have I spoiled you? Been too fucking soft with you lately?"

His voice dropped. "You think you can defy me now?"

I didn't move.

"If you don't want me to pull the plug on Luna's ventilator — you will kneel."

My hand on the bed rail went white at the knuckles.

I slid off the bed and onto the cold tile floor.

The kindness of the last four days collapsed in on itself.

It had never been kindness.

Iris watched me from the safety of his arms. Her lips curved — just a little.

"Say you're sorry," Damian said.

"I'm sorry." My voice was flat.

He frowned. "Kneel lower."

I pressed my forehead to the ground.

"Say it again."

"I'm sorry."

"Again."

"I'm sorry."

I lost count of how many times I said it. My throat went raw.

He didn't tell me to stop. Just stood there holding Iris, stroking her hair, while I knelt at their feet like a dog.

When he finally looked down at me.

"If this happens again, your sister is" I can't hear anything anymore, my eyes were empty.

Then he picked Iris up and carried her out. Murmuring about getting her hand stitched.

The door swung shut behind them.

I didn't get up until his footsteps faded all the way down the corridor.

When I did, my legs wouldn't hold me. I caught the edge of the bed with both hands.

A single shard of crystal had buried itself in my knee. I pulled it out without looking.

The blood that ran down my shin was the same color as the blood Iris had smeared across her palm.

Exactly the same.

It almost made me laugh.

I limped to the wardrobe. Opened the bottom drawer. Under a folded sweater, wrapped in black silk — the notebook.

I sat on the floor with it in my lap.

My hand was shaking so badly the pen wouldn't write. I had to brace my wrist against my thigh.

Below the line that said the pearls, I wrote a sentence.

Be a human target.

Then, the door creaked.

"What are you doing?"

I went still.

I closed the notebook.

I didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

I shoved the notebook back into the drawer, but he'd already seen it.

Damian leaned against the doorframe. A soft, dismissive snort.

"Writing in your little book again? More of that selfpitying shit?"

He stepped past me. Bent down. Picked up the bracelet Iris had dropped.

"Tomorrow you're going dress shopping with her." He didn't look up.

"You've been a bridetobe before. Help her pick something."

He walked out.

I stared at the door for a long time after it closed.

A few months ago, I'd said I wanted to try on wedding dresses. Just once. Just to feel what it was like.

Damian had given me a dozen reasons why we couldn't.

Too busy. Too dangerous. Too early. Soon.

I let out a sound that wasn't quite a laugh.

Then I nodded, slowly, to no one.

The next morning, Damian sent a car.

I was still weak from surgery. Still bleeding through my bandages.

But the soldiers who came to my room didn't give a shit. They pulled me into the back seat and drove me to a bridal boutique in the old quarter of Verenza City.

Iris was already there, standing in front of a threeway mirror in white.

Damian sat in a velvet chair by the window. Watching her spin.

The shop assistants looked at me and whispered behind their hands.

"Look at her face. You'd think she was picking out funeral clothes."

"She's the Don's mistress, I heard. The other one."

"A mistress? With a face like that?"

I kept my face blank. I'd had years of practice.

I walked to the rack and started sliding hangers.

Iris tried on dress after dress. Damian praised every single one.

Stunning. Perfect. Made for you.

Words he'd never once wasted on me.

She threw the fifth dress on the floor and turned to me with a pout.

"I'm tired. Selene, you try it on. Show me how it looks."

Before Damian could protest, I picked up the gown and walked into the fitting room.

When I pulled back the curtain, the room went silent.

The dress was white. But on me, it was different.

The fabric clung to my body, and my body was a map of violence.

Black bruises up my arms. Three fresh bullet wounds on my left shoulder, still seeping red through the bandages.

A long, jagged scar across my right side where a knife had opened me up two years ago.

For three seconds, he looked at me the way he used to.

Then he blinked. And it was gone.

Iris backed away, hand over her mouth. "What is that? Damian, it's hideous. I'm going to be sick."

Damian's face went dark. "What the fuck are you standing there for? Cover yourself up."

I didn't move.

"Are you deaf?" He stood. His chair scraped against the marble.

"You're disgusting. Put your clothes back on."

I turned and walked back into the fitting room. The fabric pulled against my wounds.

It hurt. Everything hurt.

I peeled off the gown. Put on my own old clothes.

When I came out, Iris had already moved on to accessories.

She couldn't choose. Damian bought every dress in the boutique.

I picked up a small pink dress from the children's section. A gift for Luna — for when she woke up.

Iris snatched it out of my hand.

"Buying this?" She smiled. "For her grave present?"

My stomach dropped. "What did you say?"

She pulled out her phone. Opened her gallery.

One image after another — Luna on the range. Luna's small body covered in blood.

"I only shot her once." Iris scrolled slowly.

"She went quiet right after. Way better behaved than you, honestly. One more bullet and she would've been completely silent."

I went still.

"The last shot was Damian's." Her mouth curved up. "She was crying — calling him brother, please — and Damian just pulled the trigger. So cool. So beautiful. I finally understood why he likes guns so much."

I lunged. My hands closed around her throat.

The shop assistants screamed. Chairs overturned.

I slammed her against the wall and lifted her off the floor. She clawed at my arms.

"Selene!" Damian's voice roared from behind me.

I didn't let go.

Then Damian's boot connected with my ribs and I flew sideways into a display rack. Glass shattered around me.

He had a gun in his hand. Pointed at my forehead.

"Selene Ashford." Very cold. "Have you lost your fucking mind?"

He was shaking. "All she did was call you ugly, and you try to kill her? I've been too damn soft with you."

Iris was sobbing on the floor. Damian knelt beside her, cradling her against his chest.

I spat blood onto the tiles. "She killed my sister."

"Your sister is alive," he snapped.

"Barely. And if you ever raise a hand to Iris again, I'll make sure Luna stays that way."

I stared at him. At the gun. At the woman in his arms — who was smiling over his shoulder.

"Then kill me." My voice cracked.

"Do it. Damian."

His finger twitched on the trigger.

I watched his face. Waiting for the bullet.

Then his eyes found mine — really found them, tears and blood and all — and his whole body locked up.

He shoved the gun back into his holster. "Get her back to the compound. Lock her in the basement."

Soldiers grabbed me by the arms. I didn't fight.

As they dragged me out, he called after me. "I'll deal with you after my wedding."

I didn't look back.

I thought he would tear me apart.

I'd seen him take a man's hand off at the wrist for less.

Instead — the basement.

No one came. No food. No water. Just the drip of a leaky pipe somewhere above my head and the rustle of rats in the corners.

I sat on the cold concrete and let the tears come.

After a while, I started to laugh.

Damian.

Damian Knight.

I was sorry.

Sorry I hadn't run sooner.

Sorry I'd ever taken his hand in the back of that car.

Most of all — sorry I had let him save me.

Maybe Luna would be grown up in some quiet little town. A house with a yard.

Through the door, the soldiers whispered.

The Don was busy with the wedding.

Reception's tomorrow. Florist's already here.

I curled tighter around my leg.

Tomorrow.

He was marrying her tomorrow.