Page 440 of Rage

The Mafia’s Queen: Uprising

By: E.D Crowe

Chapter One

Maeve

7 years ago

Ihate that fireplace.

It’s a monstrous black brick fireplace with deep green tile, surrounded by dark walls. The flames lick at the edges, scorching it with tarnished soot. The dark stained wood of the mantle is nearly black against the wallpapered walls of green forests and golden accents, of dancing nymphs and flying birds.

This place is a spot of power in my home. In myfather’shome.

This office is the bane of my existence. It’s where my father rules his empire, it’s where I sit and listen to his decrees.

A decree that he’s now going to give to me.

I shouldn’t have been given one, not yet. Decrees are given at twenty-one to those in the clan; if you wanted to stay within the family, then you were given a place to fit. That could be as simple as what your job in the clan would be, like enforcer or soldier, or what the Captain needed from you.

My younger sister Collins will get her decree at twenty-one, just like everyone else. My father has always envisioned her as the clan doctor, and that’s what he’ll tell her on the eve ofher birthday. My youngest sister Sloane will be told to marry and produce children, her relationship leveraged as a way to strengthen the family. As for my brother Briar, though still an infant, he’ll likely be groomed to serve as hired muscle or a hitman. Most of the men born into the clan are used the same way.

That leaves me, the heir, to know of my fate.

Once the decree is leveled, it’s either take it with gratitude or walk away from the family. There is little else I can do.

I’m thirteen. I can’t go anywhere. This is my home, my legacy. Whatever my father has planned, I have no choice but to follow through.

Leaning back into his chair, my father is a massive man. Dark locks, the same shade as my own, with muddy, beady eyes. His hands are like mallets, and his body is thick like a tree trunk. His pale cheeks are ruddy, his Irish complexion still not used to the cold of Boston during the winter.

In two weeks, I’ll be fourteen. I wonder if he even remembers.

My father is a good businessman, running his clan with an iron fist. But he’s a shitty father.

Puffing on his cigar, I don’t turn as the door behind me opens and then closes quietly. It could be anyone. Looking away from my father is a death sentence, though. He expects loyalty at all times. Always from me.

A body moves to perch itself on to my father’s massive desk. It’s just as dark as the room, with a cloud of smoke lingering above us. I hate the smell but it isn’t my home. It’shis. Always his.

Locking eyes with Michael Langston, my father’s second-in-command, I stop the urge to recoil. Michael is a normal fixture in my father’s rebuilt castle, a mockery to the ones that litter the Irish coasts. He’s always lurking around, enjoying my father’sbest wine or his expensive cigars. What he does for my father is anyone’s guess; he doesn’t run the product, he doesn’t do the books, and he certainly doesn’t kill the competition.

I would know. Because I do it.

Thirteen years old and I have already taken a life. I’ve done all sorts of terrible things for this clan.

I am, after all, my father’s daughter.

When Michael continues to stare at me, I turn my gaze to my father, shooting him an annoyed glare. I would never openly disagree with him, but here, in his office, I am as stubborn as him. He knows I have no fear of him.

Soon, I’ll replace him on this throne and control the clan that belongs to me. With his death, I’ll be Captain.

“Well?” I drawl. “I’m here. What did you want?”

He stubs out the cigar. “It’s time for you to know your place in the clan.”

I brace myself. My father is not a fan of women; he’s made that abundantly clear. I had to work harder, faster, be more ruthless than anyone else in his crew in order to get just a scrap of admiration. But this is my birthright.

He’s naming me as his heir.Finally.

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