The Mafia Don's Regret: She Is Gone Forever

Grace POV

The interior of the armored SUV was suffocating, a heavy mix of expensive leather and unspoken violence.

Josiah sat in the back row.

Lexi was perched right next to him.

I was exiled to the middle row, sitting in solitary confinement.

Josiah had delayed the entire convoy just to pick her up.

He didn't just want her there; he wanted to make a statement.

He needed every soldier in the regiment to see him claiming the Mafia Princess.

I watched them through the narrow slit of the rearview mirror.

Lexi was laughing, her manicured hand resting possessively high on his thigh.

Josiah stared out the window, his jaw set, but he didn't push her hand away.

My phone vibrated against my leg.

*Text from Josiah: Stop looking at us. I have to do this.*

I swiped the notification away and deleted the thread without reading it twice.

Another buzz.

*Text from Josiah: Did you bring your spare batteries for the hearing aid?*

The false concern made my stomach turn. I blocked his number.

We arrived at the lodge just as the sun began to bleed behind the mountains.

It wasn't a vacation home; it was a sprawling timber fortress, fortified against the world by dense, unforgiving forest.

Soldiers were already patrolling the perimeter, their assault rifles slung low and ready.

"Team building!" Lexi announced brightly as we unpacked. "Daddy says trust is the currency of our world."

She wasted no time organizing a game in the main lounge.

Truth or Dare.

Ideally suited for alcohol and cruelty.

I retreated to the corner, curling into a chair with my sketchbook.

To anyone watching, I was drawing the trees outside. In reality, I was drafting a tactical map of the perimeter I had memorized during the approach.

"Grace," Lexi’s voice cut through the room. "Your turn. Truth or dare?"

I didn't look up, keeping my charcoal pencil moving.

"Oh, right," she giggled, the sound sharp and brittle. "You can't do Truth. You can't speak. Dare it is."

Before I could react, she crossed the room and snatched the notebook from my hands.

"Hey!"

She ripped the page out with a vicious tear.

"Boring," she declared, crumpling my escape map into a ball. "I dare you to go get my bag from the SUV. I forgot my lipstick."

I stared at her, my grip tightening on the empty sketchbook.

I wasn't a servant. I wasn't her maid.

Josiah was watching from the stone fireplace.

He held a tumbler of scotch, the amber liquid swirling as he swirled the glass.

"Just do it, Grace," he said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "Don't cause a scene."

I stood up slowly.

My blood was boiling beneath my skin, but I forced my face to remain blank.

I walked to the door.

I needed to check the guard rotation anyway. It was a tactical retreat.

I was gone for five minutes, no more.

When I returned, the room was silent.

Dead, suffocating silent.

Lexi was standing by her open suitcase, sobbing into her hands.

Josiah was holding something in the light.

It was a silver locket.

Her grandmother's antique locket.

"It was in her bag," Lexi cried, pointing a shaking finger at my backpack, which had been dumped onto the floor. "I saw it sticking out. She stole it!"

The air left the room.

Theft within the inner circle wasn't just a crime.

It was a capital offense.

It was a fundamental breach of the Code.

Everyone turned to look at Josiah.

Mark was there. The sons of the other Capos were watching, judging.

They were waiting to smell blood. They were waiting to see if he was weak.

They were waiting to see if he would protect his "pet" over the alliance.

Josiah walked over to me, his boots heavy on the floorboards.

He held up the locket, the silver chain dangling like a noose.

"Did you take this?" he asked, his voice devoid of warmth.

I shook my head violently.

I raised my hands, signing rapidly: *No. She planted it. I never touched it.*

"Liar!" Lexi screamed, her face twisted. "You've always been jealous of me!"

Josiah looked at the soldiers watching him.

He looked at Lexi, the key to the southern trade routes.

Then he looked at me.

And I saw the moment his humanity died.

"This is unacceptable," he said coldly. "Theft cannot be tolerated."

He pointed to the floor at his feet.

"Kneel."

My heart stopped beating.

"Josiah," I mouthed, the name tasting like ash.

"I said kneel!" he roared, his voice shaking the timber walls and vibrating through my bones. "Apologize to her. Now."

He was stripping me naked in front of them without touching my clothes.

He was taking the only thing I had left.

My dignity.

If I didn't kneel, he would look weak to his men.

If I didn't kneel, he would be forced to hurt me physically to prove his authority.

My knees hit the hardwood floor with a sickening thud.

I bowed my head, my hair falling forward to curtain my face.

I could feel the heat of their stares burning into my skin.

"I'm sorry," I signed, my movements jerky, stiff, and mechanical.

Lexi smirked through her fake tears, a predator satisfied with the kill.

"It's okay," she sniffled loudly. "She just doesn't know any better. She's broken."

Josiah turned away abruptly.

He couldn't even look at what he had done.

I stayed on the floor.

I wasn't praying for forgiveness.

I was making a promise to myself.

When I finally rose from this floor, I wouldn't just leave.

I would burn this entire world to the ground.