Page 1 of Heirs of Havoc

Chapter One

They say you can’t outrun your past.

I say they aren’t fast enough.

“Come Fly with Me” by Sinatra plays in my ears, my feet pumping my white sneakers as fast as they can go.

Okay, so most people don’t listen to old classics when they’re out for a jog. But there’s something about that baritone and the croon of his sultry voice. It makes everything feel weightless. It’s also the one thing from my father I don’t hate.

The horns from the song add a skip to my step as I run through the shiny iron gates of Saint Angels Academy. My coils bounce on my head, piled high in a bun, as I run into the empty Clementine road. My haven.

Not for long.

My pace quickens, the moonlight lighting the gravel path as my day flickers through my head.

You’re tired. You didn't see him.

But what if I did?

The song lowers as my phone rings. Pulling it out of the small pocket in my black spandex shorts, "Don't answer" appears on the screen. Like every other time, I ignore my father. He doesn’t deserve an answer. Or an explanation. He deserves nothing.

“Do you really think they’ll respect you? A mutt?”

He decided to have a kid outside of the Merlo blood. One with darker skin, kinkier hair and a bloodline unfit for the throne. Lucky for him, I don’t want it.

My feet slam against the pavement, his words ringing in my head, but with Clementine at my disposal, they’re quick to fade away. I’m an undergraduate, but it doesn’t take an anthropologist to know Clementine is far from the city. Calm. Peaceful. What’s even better? My father isn’t here. Neither are his goons and neither is he.

At least I don’t think he is.

The university hallway comes to my mind. I only saw the back of him, but I’d know those blonde tips anywhere and I've gagged at that blowout more times than I can count. Way more times than I've yelled, “William Romano is not my future.” This scholarship will settle that.

My phone rings again, my hands turning to fists. Glancing at the screen, my feet slow to a stop at the bridge overlooking the ravine.

“Nani.”

Or “Grandma” if you’re not from the island she hails from. Not that she's my grandma, but everyone calls her that.

She runs a small cafe out of Godfrey Books, part of Clementine Ministries, and the primary source of my income. My father’s not footing this bill, it wasn’t part of his plan.

Fuck his plan.

Wait, I mean forget his plan. This town is pretty strict about religion and that’s why I chose it. No Merlos, no Romanos, nothing to do with la famiglia.

Answering the call, my elbows lean against the metal railing overlooking the ravine. “Nani. Is everything okay?”

“Of course, Mia. I’m old but I’m capable,” she laughs. “Come to the store tomorrow. Penny put you in charge, and I have your key.”

“Already?” A smile spreads across my face. Only a few months and I already have a promotion.

“If what you tell me about your mum is true, dog doh make cat.” That statement confuses me but her accent warms me. Her culture is the closest thing I’ve had to my mom in ages. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” she clarifies. “You’re a hard worker too, Mia. See you at noon?”

The smile settles. “You bet, Nani.”

“Don’t run too fast now.”

“Don’t work too hard.”

“Why? I’ll die?”

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