Page 1 of Dark Mafia Bride

1

MIRABELLA

The rain pours down in thick, relentless sheets, drenching me as I trudge along the cracked sidewalk. I yank my jacket collar higher, but it’s pointless—I’m already soaked to the bone, down to my underwear.

My feet squish with each step inside my everyday shoes—my suede flats— which are slowly being ruined by the downpour.Just great, I think. The last thing I need right now is the extra expense of replacing them, even though they’re long past their prime.

A shiver rips through me, and I mutter a bitter curse under my breath. I’ve been forced to smile all night at this awful new job. I can barely stomach it, serving drinks to drunken men, pretending to be polite even when their hands wander where they shouldn’t. But I don’t have the luxury of quitting. With a mountain of debt crushing me, I’ll take any job no matter how degrading just to scrape together enough to pay everything off.

I tighten my grip on the strap of my bag as I approach the alley ahead. My knuckles throb from the pressure, and a flicker of unease crawls down my spine as I reach the entrance of the shortcut.

It’s clearly a bad idea to do this. The alley is narrow and dark—dangerous at this hour—but I need to make it to the bus before it leaves, or I’ll be stuck standing in the rain for another thirty minutes.

As I step into the alley, I glance over my shoulder, a strange prickle of anxiety gnawing at me. There’s no one there—just the steady rhythm of raindrops splashing against the pavement. Still, something feels off.

I’m halfway through the narrow path when shadows shift ahead of me. My heart plummets as three figures step out of the darkness as if they’ve been lying in wait.

Abruzzi’s men.

They move with a swagger that says they own this city, and in a way, they do. Abruzzi has eyes everywhere, and nothing happens without his knowing about it. I understand this because the few times I’ve met him, he always seems to be aware of even the most inconspicuous details about me—things I believe I hide very well. He knows the thoughts I’m about to voice, and at times he even articulates exactly what I’m thinking.

The three men close in on me, all clad in black, their leather coats slick with rainwater.

One of them flashes a cold, empty grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Well, well. Look who we have here.”

He’s the leader of the three, tall and lanky, with a crooked grin that makes my skin crawl. I know him all too well. He’s one of Abruzzi’s personal righthand men and the person I’d met on the unfortunate day I foolishly stepped into their underground loan shark operation. Back then, I was naïve, clueless about the mess I was getting myself into. I had no idea that borrowing money would mean crossing paths with a dangerous, sketchy man like Abruzzi.

My body freezes, my heart pounding in my ears. But I don’t show it. “I told Abruzzi I needed more time.”

“Time’s up, sweetheart.” His voice is as slick as oil on water, and it takes everything in me not to visibly shudder.

My pulse races, the icy rain somehow feeling even colder against my skin. I square my shoulders, forcing steel into my voice. “I told him I’m working on it. He’ll get his money. When have I ever backed out on a promise?”

The leader steps closer, his shadow looming over me. “Yeah, see, that’s the problem. Promises don’t cut it with the boss anymore. He wants his cash. Now.”

“I just need a little more time,” I plead, stepping back instinctively, but the three of them fan out, blocking my exit, trapping me in the narrow alley.

“How many times does he have to tell you?” growls the second guy, a thick-necked brute. “The boss gave you a favor by extending the deadline, but that favor’s worn thin.”

I grit my teeth, anger mixing with fear, my heart beating louder than ever. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

I realize what a stupid move that is when the leader’s grin widens. His sunken eyes gleaming with amusement. “Feisty. I like that.”

“Bet she’s a wild one in bed.” The third guy speaks for the first time. He’s bald, buff, and clearly a bonehead. He flexes his muscles like a predator ready to pounce, and the others snicker.

Morons.

“Look,” the leader drawls, his tone oozing false sympathy. “We don’t wanna make this ugly. But ugly’s always an option, y’know? Boss man ain’t exactly known for his patience, and you’re late. $20,000 too late. You know what happens to people who keep Abruzzi waiting?”

I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady, though my hands are trembling.

“He gets mad.”

Those words still haunt me—the same ones he said when I stood in front of his imposing mahogany desk in that dimly lit office.

“Pay up early, pretty girl. Don’t let me get mad.”

“Bingo,” the second guy chimes in as if this is some sick game. “Give the lady a prize.”

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