Too Late For Regret: The Exiled Mafia Princess

rone, his first official d

and threw me barefoot in

my shoulders. My own aunt rolled up her car wind

iled down at me as the hea

ight, it will save the syndic

forced into hiding, washing dishes

me from the traitors who massacred my father

h was far mo

red in a flooded subterranean cell. He heard his scr

kicked down the diner doors to

rabbed a blade, and prepared to tea

pte

nna

snow soaked through m

e wasn't the Don yet-not officially. The ceremony was still hours away. But the Commission

el, lighting a candle for my father's soul

ence at the east gate," one of them

n. I thought it was a formality. Some ritual before the

On the balco

rigid air as he read from a thick, leather-bound folder. Treason.

stop this. Waiting for him to descend thos

dn't

ard. My face slammed into the icy pavement. The rough stone

what else could I say? There was no Don yet. There

ribs, sending me sprawling t

omed stilettos. Valeria smiled down at me, wrapped in Angelo's old leathe

sacrifice to prove Angelo has no lingering loyalties to Enzo's

e snow, inches from

e," I said. "Let h

waver. "He already did.

guards. The massive iron ga

hold just before they slammed together.

t the rough brick wall, c

ned his back and walked in