The Girl Behind His Throne

I stood in the corner at the back of the meeting room.

The family Consigliere hurried in, his expression grim.

"Don Torres, the shipment of arms we stored near the edge of the Mexican desert was hijacked by the Camorra. They took the goods and wiped out our men. We need someone to recover it."

Four Capos sat around the conference table.

Not one of them spoke.

That stretch of desert was a graveyard. Last year, twenty men had been sent there.

Only three came back alive.

Silence settled over the room for nearly half a minute.

Then Anrina walked in.

She went straight to Leon, dropped herself onto his lap, and looped her arms around his neck like she belonged there.

"Leon," she said sweetly, "why not send Isabella?"

"Wasn't she your best Capo once?"

She turned and flashed me a smug smile.

"Isabella would definitely bring it back for you, wouldn't she?"

Leon's brows drew together slightly.

He glanced at me, lips parting as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out.

Anrina leaned close and whispered into his ear.

"If Isabella succeeds, then give her position back, okay?"

Leon was silent for a few seconds before finally nodding.

"Isabella."

He looked at me across the room.

"Go retrieve the shipment. Come back alive, and I'll restore your position as Capo."

I stood there quietly, staring at the man I had personally helped place on the throne.

Now he sat there holding the woman who had stolen everything from me, using the power I bled for to send me to my death.

And suddenly, I smiled.

Something inside me that had been stretched tight for years finally snapped.

"Fine," I said softly. "I'll go."

Leon's hand tightened slightly against the armrest.

He could not explain it, but the smile on my face unsettled him for a brief moment.

The night before departure, he summoned me to his study.

The fire in the fireplace burned fiercely, shadows flickering across the room as he stood with his back to me in silence.

After a long pause, he opened a drawer, took out a pistol, and tossed it toward me.

A black suppressed handgun.

Custom-built.

My initials were engraved into the grip, and the barrel had been modified for an extra thirty meters of range beyond standard models.

"Come back alive," Leon said coldly. "Then you can have your seat back."

He never looked at me while saying it.

I slid the gun behind my waist and turned toward the door.

"No need."

My voice was calm.

Behind me came the sharp crack of a glass slamming onto the desk.

Leon's voice darkened with anger.

"Don't push your luck, Isabella."

I did not turn around.

Leon.

This is the hundredth debt I repay for you.

From this day forward, if we ever meet again, we'll meet as enemies.