Page 24 of Made to Sin

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I couldn’t contain myself from bouncing on the balls of my feet the next morning. For the past years, I’d been doing whatever Marco wanted, and this was my chance to put a halt to that mindset. I was both nervous and excited to finally do something for myself.

Maria brushed my hair, caringly stroking the strands. “I haven’t seen you this happy in so long,meu bem.”

Despite the limited makeup, my face was brighter, cheeks holding a natural rosy tint and eyes creasing with elation. It was like I was staring at someone else— someone who didn’t live the cursed fate that I had. She was right, I hadn’t seen myself this happy in a while either.

“What if I do everything wrong?” I anxiously mumbled.

Maria took her time to finish braiding my hair before answering. The brief silence was how I knew she was being serious.

“Meu bem, you will mess up.” The unimpressed look I gave her made her laugh, but she held up her index finger to tell me she wasn’t done. “Everyone does. But as long as you have the passion and good intentions, you will do great.”

I gave her a small smile through the mirror, praying what she said was truly reality. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it, you’ll be fine. Now stop opening your mouth, and let me apply sunscreen, so you don’t come back looking like a baboon’s behind.”

ITOOKINTHESMALLbuilding in front of me, wedged between an old-school barber shop and a bustling Chinese noodle shop. The area wasn’t in the most developed part of New York, but each unit had a unique personality.

Inhaling a big breath of the smoggy air for some courage, I opened the slender door to the place Luciano directed. A bell chimed, announcing my entrance to the thirty-something-year-old woman who popped up from behind the front desk.

“Welcome in,” she greeted, a bright smile on her face.

This place must be some sort of haven if she was this cheerful at eight a.m. in the morning.

I straightened my cowered shoulders, trying to match her upbeat energy, and walked past the doorframe into the compact lobby to where she was sitting behind a wooden counter.

“Hello, my name is Katarina. I was referred by someone called Eda about a volunteering opportunity,” I shyly explained.

The woman kept eye contact when I talked, genuinely giving me her full attention until I was done. “Nice to meet you, Katarina, please call me Chloe. Let me go ahead and look this up for you.” She typed something on her computer for a minute before looking back up. “Oh, yes, I see Eda left the note. Okay,Katarina, I’ll have you fill out some forms, and then we can get started.”

I nodded and took a seat on one of the waiting chairs. While Chloe prepared for my onboarding, I stared at the lobby. My nerves gradually eased as I admired the clean and simple space yet inviting brown-toned furniture.

Whether it was the many pictures of victims and excerpts of their survival stories hanging on the wall or the slideshow of different projects the organization participated in showing on the TV, something told me I would love it here instantly. I wasn’t too big on auras and energies, but this place felt unexplainably comforting, the walls themselves enclosing my frigid body in a security blanket.

After a few minutes of more keyboard clicks and loud printer sounds, Chloe walked over to hand me a pen and clipboard, her upturned lips still not falling. “Here you are. If you have any questions, let me know.”

I thanked her and began filling out the empty forms. Name, birthday, etcetera, it was nothing out of the ordinary, but somehow the person I wrote down didn’t feel like me. I stared at my signature as a spark of hope formed in my chest. Katarina Camello wasn’t the Underworld’s ideal wife here. Katarina Camello wasn’t Marco’s prize here. I was justKatarina, and she was whomever I wanted her to be.

As soon as I was done signing over the liabilities, Chloe gave me a tour and assigned me a partner who would mentor me until I got the hang of things. My partner, a girl who introduced herself as Emily Yu, helped me familiarize myself with today’s task of sorting donations.

Emily was around my age, so we instantly clicked with lots of common grounds, minus theCosa Nostrastuff. Our conversations started with small talk, like what conditioner we used to keep our dark hair so silky to what we each did on our twenty-first birthdays, but soon took off from there.

I found out she was the daughter of the owner of theChinese noodle shop next door, had zero siblings, was currently on a gap year from college to be an architect, and volunteered with Eda in her free time.

When it was my turn to describe myself, I kept it as vague as possible. I was also in my early twenties with no siblings, didn’t have a job, and found this place through Eda’s invitation after attending a charity event with my husband.

Emily wasn’t tainted by the Underworld’s mark, and I wasn’t going to break it to her by saying anything more.

Her brown eyes widened in disbelief as I skewed the truth into an average story. “Wait, that’s so cool. Eda usually doesn’t personally invite anyone.”

“Well, not her specifically. I think she got my number off of a note and asked someone else to deliver the message. Does the name Luciano sound familiar?”

She thought about it for a bit before shaking her head. “Not really, but if she went through all that for a volunteer, you must be very special or something. Don’t take it the wrong way, but the organization has an outreach team for those kinds of matters.”

“Or something,” I mumbled, not fully believing the twist of fates either. The napkin would have had to go through Eda, then to Luciano, and finally, me.

Emily shrugged. “If you’re curious, Eda’s in later today.”

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