As soon as she said those words, it felt like someone had hammered my heart and ripped it straight out of my chest.

Even Tristan, who was standing beside me, flinched back like he had been physically punched.

I forced a chuckle, brushing imaginary lint off my jacket like her words hadn’t hit me square in the soul.

"Well," I drawled casually, flashing her a lazy grin that I didn't feel. "I see the attitude runs strong in this family."

Liana, still glaring at me, blinked like she hadn’t expected this response.. like she expected yelling, argument and even force.

It took everything I had not to reach out to her, and hug her.

Instead, I shoved my hands into my pockets and smiled wider. "You don’t have to like me, bambina," I said, my voice low and steady. "But like it or not, you’re stuck with us."

For a second — the barest heartbeat — her scowl faltered.

A tiny flicker of confusion crossed her features before she masked it again behind cold indifference.

"Great," she said flatly. "Another prison."

"It's not a prison, sweetheart. It's your home" she just snorted.

"Tomato tamoto"  she replied.

Tristan sighed and moved forward "I know you hate us and no one blames you fir that. But please" desperation crept in his voice "Please just give us one chance. You can leave after 2 months, if you don’t like it but atleast give us 2 months of your life"

Her eyes softened for a git before she masked her emotion, leaving me surprised.

The way she has control on her emotions isn’t normal. Me and my sons knows how to do it cause emotions in our work of line, gets us killed. But why does my daughter know how to control them?

"1 month" she negotiated.

"1.5. Don’t push it" I replied, she finally nodded and I couldn’t be more happy.

"Now can we finally get those handcuffs off?" I frowned at Tristan words. I haven't even noticed that she was wearing handcuffs.

Fury cursed through me.

"Why does" my voice, making the grown men in the room flinch "Why is my daughter in handcuffs" I turn to look at one of the officers closest to her. 

Who gulped in fear "Si.. sir it's a long story" he shuddered. 

LIANA AVERY COLLINS

(A/n–this is the continuation from where last chapter ended)

I have a father. 6 brothers?

When... how... what...?!

I stepped back, my head shaking violently. This had to be a joke. Some sick prank.

"I’m sorry," I said—well, more like yelled at this rate—"but I think you have the wrong person! I’m an only child!"

The woman in front of me, Officer Ramirez, gave me a look of infinite patience She shook her head firmly. "No, we didn’t. You have an entire family who has been waiting years to take you home. They will be here in few hours. Till then you have to come to us"

Yeah.

No.

Absolutely not.

This smelled like a setup.

Behind me my friends argued with the officers to not take me but it was of no use.

I swallowed the rising panic, forcing a shaky smile. "Okay," I said sweetly, voice all honey and fake innocence. "Let's go"

I gave a blink to my friends before I turned to the door.

Ramirez’s shoulders relaxed slightly. She motioned for another officer to open the door.

Two officers flanked me, gently nudging me toward the hallway.

I walked easily enough. Calm. Composed.

The perfect little well-behaved girl.

Until I wasn’t.

At the last second, just as we neared the door leading to the front porch.  I spun around, kicked both officers square in the stomach

Ramirez yelped— Another officer scrambled for me but I was already ducking low, darting through their legs like a damn football.

"HEY! STOP HER!" someone shouted.

But I didn’t care. I ran—ran like hell, like my life depended on it.

Which, in a way, it did.

I didn’t need to glance over my shoulder to know they were chasing me—the pounding footsteps, the shouting, the sheer chaos told me enough.

If I wanted to escape, I had to lose them fast.

Thinking quick, I veered right, slipping into a narrow alleyway that reeked of trash and stale rainwater.

The tighter, the better.

I zig-zagged through the maze of alleys, creating a crisscross pattern that I hoped would mess with whoever dared to follow.

I could almost picture them tripping over each other like bowling pins.

The thought made me push harder, even though my legs were screaming.

(Note to self: work on cardio before trying to escape your long-lost mafia family.)

Finally, I dared a look behind me—

Nothing.

I slowed, sucking in deep breaths, a triumphant grin spreading across my face.

Victory tastes like freedom, baby.

I turned casually to slip out of the alley. And crashed straight into a wall of navy blue.

An officer blinked down at me, his brows lifting in mild amusement.

Fuck fuck.,

Panic surged through me. I spun to sprint the other way—

Only to skid to a halt when Officer Ramirez herself stepped out from the shadows, arms crossed, mouth tilted in a look that screamed, Really?

I was trapped.

Ramirez arched a brow at me, clearly fighting a smile.

"Nice try," she said, voice dry as dust. "But you're coming with us, kid."

"It's not my fault!" I yelled, throwing my hands up dramatically, just like they did in those cheesy action movies.

"My mother just died! I'm an orphan now! Why are you bullying an orphan?" I wailed, voice cracking right on cue.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, okay?

Ramirez looked unimpressed. The officer next to her sighed like he suddenly regretted his entire career choice.

But did that stop me?

Hell no.

When they stepped forward, I launched into action—swinging my arms.

One officer ducked; another got few punches.

"BACK, DEMONS!" I screeched, kicking wildly.

(Was it graceful? No. Did I care? Also no.)

"Resisting... seriously resisting!" one of them yelled into his radio.

For a second—just a tiny, beautiful second—I thought I might win.

I might actually escape.

And then—

Strong arms grabbed me from behind like I was some kind of rogue cat, trapping me mid-flail.

"Let go, you dictators! I know my rights!" I shouted, kicking my legs uselessly in the air as they dragged me toward the car.

"I demand a lawyer!"

"Call my agent!"

"You are getting a family, not a lawyer" Ramirez grunted, as she dragged me to the car.

I DON’T WANT A FAMILY, I WANT FREEDOM"

She was laughing now—actually laughing—as they shoved me into the back seat like a sack of angry potatoes.

I tried one last time, kicking the door as it closed, but it was useless.

The car started rolling and I slumped in defeat, scowling out the window.

I muttered under my breath, "You're all gonna regret this when I become famous."

From the front seat, Ramirez said, "You're already a legend, kid."

And that's how I got myself handcuffed and locked in a interrogation room.

Present.

Tristan was clutching his stomach, laughing so hard that even our father cracked a rare smile as they recounted the story.

"Alright, you can take the handcuffs off now," he ordered, his voice still tinged with amusement.

But oh, it was my turn to grin wickedly.

Before any of them could react, I popped the handcuffs open myself and dropped them onto the table with a loud clink.

The room fell into stunned silence.

Ramirez just muttered under her breath, "Why am I even surprised," while shaking her head.

She turned to my family and said, softer this time, "Take care of this kid. She’s special."

Their faces softened, almost unbearably tender, and they motioned for me to follow. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I sauntered out behind them, acting way cooler than I felt.

Parked right outside was a sleek, black beauty of a car — I almost squealed inside. Almost. I kept my face blank, but my insides were doing cartwheels.

Clearing my throat, I said as casually as I could, "Can we go somewhere first? I gotta pick up my stuff."

Their eyes immediately softened again, "Of course, Pixie," Tristan said easily, tossing me a teasing grin.

I scowled. "Why Pixie?"

"Cause you're tiny, but maximum chaos," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Take that back! I am not tiny," I snapped defensively, crossing my arms over my chest.

I'm 5'8", thank you very much — practically a giant in girl world.

Tristan just laughed harder. "You're so cute when you're angry."

I huffed, dramatically turning to stare out of the window and rattled off my old address. The car filled with quiet chatter as we drove, their teasing occasionally drifting into concerned whispers they thought I couldn't hear.

After what felt like forever, we pulled up in front of the house.

I stared at it.

It was small. Just a plain white house with peeling paint and a crooked mailbox. It looked...

Empty.

I swallowed around the lump in my throat.

Without a word, I got out and made my way up the cracked front steps. The key under the flowerpot was still there — exactly where my mother had always hidden it.

I slipped it into the lock and pushed the door open.

The house was silent.

That kind of heavy, hollow silence that seemed to cling to the air.

Everything inside looked exactly the same — the old couch, the chipped coffee table, even the photo frames still perched crookedly on the wall.

Except it felt wrong.

Colder.

A few steps inside, my knees nearly buckled from the memories.

The scent of lavender and vanilla — her perfume — still clung faintly to the curtains.

This was where she had died.

Where everything had shattered.

My breath came out shaky.

Behind me, the door creaked and I turned to find my them standing awkwardly on the porch, not daring to step inside unless I wanted them to.

Tristan caught my eye and gave me a small nod, like he was silently saying Take your time, Pixie. We're right here.

"Alright, tiger" I whispered to myself, "grab your crap and let’s get the hell outta here."

I quickly made my way to my mother’s room first, my heart pounding in my chest

I opened the old wooden drawer — the one she always kept locked — and just like she once told me, I found a hidden compartment tucked inside.

Hands shaking slightly, I typed in the code she had told me.

With a soft click, the hidden panel popped open.

I don’t know what I expected.

But definitely not this.

Inside lay a small pendrive, a thick, wax-sealed letter addressed simply to Lorenzo, and a neat stack of documents — bold words stamped across the top:

JAMES ONLY — NO LIANA.

A sharp pang of betrayal twisted in my gut.

How many secrets had she kept buried in this house?

How much had she hidden... from me?

Still, I shoved my curiosity into a locked box deep inside my chest.

Not now.

Later.

I placed everything carefully into a small, battered wooden box and locked it tight.

I moved next to my own room, barely glancing around the familiar four walls. It felt like a museum now — frozen in time.

Moving quickly, I shoved clothes into my suitcase, not caring if they were folded or not.

Twenty minutes later, I was done. I grabbed the last thing — a worn photo frame with a picture of my mother and me grinning like idiots — and tucked it under my arm.

With one last glance around, I headed downstairs.

Through the cracked window, I could see them all waiting for me outside.

My friends were standing guard like tiny warriors, their glares sharp enough to cut glass as they faced off against my new so-called family.

When they spotted me, they rushed forward.

I barely had time to brace myself before Amelia threw her arms around me, nearly knocking the breath out of my lungs.

I hugged her back just as fiercely, burying my face into her shoulder, forcing myself to swallow the tears clawing their way up my throat.

"I’m gonna miss you, you idiot," Amelia choked out, her voice breaking.

"I’ll miss you too, dummy," I muttered, hugging her tighter.

Axel ruffled my hair with a crooked grin. "Don’t cause too much destruction... or do. We’ll be cheering either way."

A small, broken laugh escaped me.

I pulled back, taking one last look at them — my friends, my family.

"Goodluck my bunny" Damien hugged me.

"Don’t forget me," I whispered.

"Never," they said in unison.

And with one last lingering glance, I turned and walked toward the black car waiting for me, my heart heavier than my suitcase.

UNKNOWN POV

I watched from the shadowed alley across the street, a grin stretching across my face.

There she was — my little queen — finally walking toward the car that would unknowingly carry her closer to where she belonged.

Home.

Where every piece of this grand puzzle would finally fall into place.

I turned slightly as my second-in-command approached, his footsteps silent.

"Phase one is complete," he said, voice low. "They're taking her back."

I nodded, hands clasped behind my back. "Good. Everything is right on schedule."

My gaze didn’t waver from her.

She had no idea yet. No idea about the blood-soaked crown waiting for her.

No idea that fate had already tied her to us long before she could even walk.

"Prepare for Phase Two," I murmured. "It’s time she remembers who she really is."

As I disappeared into the darkness, a single thought echoed in my mind —

Soon, my queen.