Alessia's POV
"Where were you on the night of the 5th?" Leo barked.
"I—I already told you!" Colt stammered, sweat beading on his forehead. "I was at home! I swear!"
I leaned back in my chair, legs crossed on the table, a dagger in my left hand, an apple in my right. The interrogation dragged on like a badly written soap opera.
Honestly, I needed a nap at this point.
"Are you sure about that?" Leo pressed, voice sharp enough to shave with.
"Yes! Please, I'm telling the truth!" He squirmed against the ropes binding him to the chair. His eyes darted around like he hoped a miracle might untie him.
I yawned, slicing the apple in half with a clean flick of the dagger. The halves fell to the floor.
Shit! My apple!
Damn it!
Now, I was furious. Everything about this interrogation was starting to piss me off.
They were taking forever, and frankly, I was starting to feel bored.
I straightened in my chair, the movement drawing all eyes to me. Everyone froze, waiting. Slowly, I stepped toward the man, dagger twirling lazily between my fingers.
"Please…" he whimpered, voice cracking. "You… you have to believe me, Alessia. I've been nothing but loyal to this family, there's no way I would have done it."
I raised an eyebrow, tilting my head, pretending to consider this revelation like it was the world's hardest riddle.
"Oh really?" I said, letting a small smirk curl my lips. "I'd believe you, but Benito in the next room has shared some rather damning intel. And there's the small matter of your browser history."
He gulped. "What?"
I leaned closer, letting the dagger hover near his shoulder. "Well," I said, voice soft but dangerous, "You searched articles about deleting photos from the cloud on your iPhone, a gift, by the way, from the very man you were betraying."
I turned to Leo and the other men. "It's a good thing my father keeps his friends close." I lifted his chin with the flat edge of the blade. "And his enemies, even closer." Leo nodded and signalled to one of the men by the corner. He headed for the table drawer and pulled out a suitcase.
It was placed on a table next to me and opened. My mood brightened as I stared at the beautiful sharp works of art carefully arranged in different sizes.
It was a gift from Dad when I turned thirteen. I mean, why long for gadgets when you could have these babies?
I turned to Colt, a smile curving my lips. "Well, I'll say it's about time we got serious. Who were you photographing for?"
Without warning, his features shifted into a cruel mask as he spat into my face.
"You think you're strong because you have Marco's backing?" He growled. "I taught you everything you know, Moretti Bitch! So why don't you let me out of these ropes and see if that smug look will still be on your face?"
That did it. Here I was trying to be nice to my former boxing instructor. And he repays me like this?
I reached for the towel one of the guys held out to me. They looked pissed, but they knew to stay put whenever I was in the cockpit.
After wiping my face, I turned to Leo and gestured for him to cut the ropes and leave.
"Are you sure, Ma'am?" He asked, pouring fuel on the fire that had already been lit in me.
I smirked. "Would you like to join him in hell?"
Leo didn't say a word. He just did as I said and signalled the rest of the men to follow him out while they shut the door.
Colt stood up, flexing his muscles. "I didn't know you were this stupid, Alessia."
I scoffed.
For an old man, he sure had a sharp tongue. I guess I would be fixing that too.
"First things first," I muttered. "I'm not stupid, but I am a glutton for punishment. Yours, specifically."
He looked confused, but I wasn't done.
"And just so we're clear, my father taught me everything I know," I said as I locked eyes with him, a grin playing on my lips. "Pigs like you don't get to fucking call him by his first name. You address him as Don Marco Moretti!"
***
I walked down the hallway, heading for the study.
After leaving the cellar, Leo told me Dad was waiting for me at the study. He wanted to speak with all of us.
Curious, I hauled my ass to the study, basically running in my bloodstained trainers. When I got there, I pushed the doors to the study, stretching my arms.
Carl muttered, covering his nose. "You look and smell like you just finished a shift at a slaughterhouse."
"It's more likely that she caused the slaughter," Luca said, swiveling lazily in Father's office chair.
I scoffed. Assholes!
Story of my life: I'm a girl with two stupid brothers: Carl, the baby, and Luca, my twin. Separately, they are a pain in the butt. Together, they make me consider recreational self-strangulation.
I smiled. "Well, you're both wrong. I might enjoy working in a slaughterhouse. Great practice for my knife work." I nodded to Carl, as I hopped into Luca's lap, bloodying his favorite summer linen suit, "And no, I didn't kill anyone. Where did you go dressed so nicely?"
Carl gagged dramatically. "Ew, Alessia, I swear—can you not drip on the carpet? Father hates when we leak on the carpet."
"Then tell Father to invest in darker colors," I said sweetly. "This is a mafia family, not an Airpory."
"Children," came the low voice behind the desk.
Our father, Don Marco Morretti stood at the bar, pouring himself a glass.
"Daddy!" I flung myself over the counter, arms wide.
Sidestepping me, Father sipped thoughtfully. I crashed into the bookcase.
Dad set his glass down.
"Alessia," he said calmly, "Am I to assume the noise I heard downstairs was you losing your temper again?"
From my position on the floor, I batted my eyelashes, trying to look as innocent as possible. "Noise? Nope, that was just my apple falling. Colt was collateral damage."
Luca muttered. "One of these things is true."
I tsked. Both were actually true.
Dad chuckled. "Did you at least manage to get anything out of him?"
"Well…" I wrapped my arms around me, puckered my lips, and batted my lashes. "Not everything. But I couldn't get over the fact that he spat on me, so I'll let him rest tonight. We'll go again tomorrow."
He lifted an eyebrow. "Does he still have a tongue?"
I smiled. "You forget, but, Colt, that ugly son of a bitch, taught me sign language. When I'm through, he'll be rapping in ASL."
Father helped me stand, clapping me on the back. "Get it done."
"I like to pace myself," I replied.
Dad raised a brow. "I hear you let him loose."
"Of course I did." I crossed my arms. "He wanted a fair fight. So I gave him one."
Luca snorted. "You call that fair?"
I grinned. "He wanted to hit something. Well, I made sure he hit the floor. Multiple times."
Dad rubbed his temples. "Alessia…"
"Before you lecture me," I said, pointing a finger at him, "yes, I know he's valuable. Yes, I know he's been with us for years. And yes, I know he trained us. But that doesn't give him the right to act like my father isn't Don Moretti."
Dad paused.
The
Something flickered in his eyes; approval, pride, something warm he would deny if questioned.