Forbidden Love With My Mafia Step-Brother

Alexa's POV

The sky looks like it's about to collapse on top of us. Heavy, swollen clouds sag so low I swear they could scrape the rooftops.

I tug my jacket tighter and mutter under my breath for leaving late again. Typical me. If I get soaked, it's no one's fault but mine. The air already smells like wet pavement, damp, with that gross wormy undertone that always comes right before a storm.

School drained the life out of me today. Not just the pile of homework, though that's bad enough but the way every class dragged like someone stretched time on purpose.

My calculus teacher spent half the period talking about his "college glory days." He always leans against the desk like he's giving some kind of war speech, while I sat there trying not to scream, just explain the formulas, please. By the time the bell rang, my brain felt wrung out like a wet rag.

I cut through the alley behind the corner store. Saves me ten minutes, which means maybe I beat the rain.

Mom always said shortcuts are trouble, but ten minutes feels worth the risk.

Halfway through, I hear footsteps.

At first, whatever. People use this alley. But when I pick up my pace, the steps behind me do too, matching me, perfectly.

My stomach twists at that.

"Don't panic, Alexa. Just walk faster." I mutter quietly to myself

I glance back. Two guys. Definitely not from school. They are older and they're not chatting or laughing. They're just... staring. Straight at me.

My throat goes dry.

I walk faster, sneakers smacking against the damp ground. Their pace quickens too.

Nope. Not today.

I break into a run and slam straight into something solid. The impact jolts through me, and I stagger back, ready to spit out an apology until I see who it is.

"Alexa Smith."

The voice freezes me in place.

I look up. Jace.

My stomach drops so fast I swear it hits the pavement.

If Westview High has a boogeyman, it's him. His reputation isn't just a rumor, it's fact. Fights, threats, shady stuff whispered about in bathrooms.

Shadows shift behind him. More figures step forward, all in black like some bargain-bin gang movie. His crew. They spread out, cutting me off.

I press back, pulse hammering. "What do you want, Jace?"

His grin is sharp enough to slice. "What do you think? You embarrassed me."

My brows knit. "What?"

He twirls a stick in his hand, slapping it against his palm with a steady crack. "Last week. Calc test. You wouldn't give me the answers."

My heart stutters. "I told you, I couldn't. If I got caught, I'd lose everything. My spot, my grades, my record. I couldn't-"

He laughs. It's not a funny laugh but a cruel and angry one. His guys follow like hyenas, and the sound bounces off the alley walls until my chest squeezes tight.

"You think you're special, Alexa?" He steps closer, dragging the stick along the ground. "You're not. I told you what would happen if you crossed me. Now you're gonna learn."

The air feels like it's pressing down on me. I step back, but the wall catches me. Nowhere left to go. My heart bangs so hard it hurts.

And then a voice fills the air, "Touch her, and it'll be the last thing you ever do."

The voice slices through the alley. Calm, even and dangerously deadly.

Everyone turns to the sound.

A figure leans against the far wall, shadows slicing his face. He looks like he's got all the time in the world, like Jace isn't even worth his attention.

Jace bristles. "And who the hell are you?"

The guy doesn't answer him, like he's nearly a speck on his shoes, his eyes bores holes into Jace silently watching him.

That's enough to piss Jace off. He lunges at me, arm stretched out-

But he never makes it.

One second he's upright, the next he's flat on the ground, gasping.

The alley explodes into pure chaos.

I press myself against the wall, frozen, as fists fly and bodies crash. The stranger moves like nothing I've ever seen, he's fast, sharp, three steps ahead of every swing. Jace's guys drop one by one. Bone cracks. Bodies thud on the floor, It's brutal.

Jace stumbles up with a knife glinting in his hand. My breath catches.

The stranger sidesteps like it's nothing, twists Jace's wrist until the knife clatters to the pavement. A few brutal blows later, Jace is on the ground, wheezing.

Silence follows just their groans echoing.

The stranger straightens and finally looks at me.

I freeze again. Gratitude mixed with sharp nerves in my chest. He saved me, yes but something about him is too controlled and intense. Like danger doesn't leave with him, it follows.

"Thank you," I whisper, because I have to.

He doesn't answer, he just turns around to leave

"Wait!" The word blurts out before I can stop it. "At least... tell me your name."

He pauses. For a second I think he'll ignore me. Then his steady and cold voice cuts throughout the dark alley

"Baron."

And then he's gone.

I glance at the bodies littering the alley, panic sparking all over again. If anyone ties me to this, I'm screwed.

So I run.

By the next morning, the storm has passed, but last night clings to me. Every slam of a locker makes me flinch expecting Jace to jump out of somewhere, every shout in the hallway jolts my nerves after last night.

I tell myself to blend in, keep quiet, forget Baron. Forget Jace.

But of course, the universe hates me.

Classroom chatter buzzes until the teacher claps his hands. "Alright, settle down. We've got a new student today." He gestures at the door. "Come on in."

The door swings open.

And there he is.

Baron.

He walks in like he owns the place, like he didn't leave a trail of broken bodies just hours ago. His gaze sweeps the room, lands on me. His mouth curves just slightly, like he knows exactly what I'm thinking.

"This is Baron Jackson, he just moved here," the teacher says. "Make him feel welcome. Seat's over there."

Of course the empty seat is right next to me.

I glue my eyes to my notebook, scribbling nonsense. But I feel him sit and I feel the weight of him beside me. Every movement, every breath of his is loud, sharp and dangerously impossible to ignore.

Why does he have this effect on me? He's just a guy. A terrifying, unreadable guy, but still. Just a guy.

When the bell rings, girls swarm him instantly, all bright smiles and questions. He brushes them off with a small shake of his head, not interested.

I stay frozen in my seat, arguing with myself. I owe him thanks. But every word tangles in my head.

Finally, I force myself up. "Uh, hey." My voice cracks. Perfect. "I'm Alexa. I... I wanted to thank you. For yesterday."

For a second he just looks at me, unreadable. The silence drags so long my cheeks burn. I grab my bag, ready to flee.

And then he speaks, his voice low and even, his warm breath brushes my skin, close enough to stop my cold.

"You're welcome."

Alexa's POV

By the time I drag myself home, my legs feel like they've been filled with cement. I shove open the living room door, already picturing myself collapsing on the couch, when I freeze.

Boxes fills my view, coupled with suitcases and our apartment shelves stripped bare.

My mom is standing in the middle of it all, wrestling a box with the help of some guy I've never seen before.

"Mom?" My bag slips from my shoulder, dropping to the floor. "What...what's going on?"

She looks up, smiling like this is the best day of her life. Her cheeks are bright and cheerful, completely out of place in this mess.

"Oh, Alexa! Perfect timing. Go grab your things, we're moving."

"Moving?" The word stumbles out of my mouth, sharp and loud. "Moving where? And why didn't you tell me before I left this morning?" My voice comes out rushed, my pulse racing to keep up.

She waves her hands in the air, shooing my questions away like they're gnats. "Sweetheart, I'll explain once we get there."

"There?" My chest tightens. "Where exactly is there?"

Mom sighs, setting the box down with a heavy thud. She motions me toward the couch, her eyes suddenly serious in a way that makes my stomach twist.

"I should've told you sooner," she admits, voice soft. "The truth is... I'm getting remarried."

The words hit harder than a punch.

"You're what?" My voice cracks. "Since when have you even been seeing someone? And why am I just finding out now?"

Her lips press together, like she's been rehearsing this moment but forgot her lines. "I didn't know how to tell you." She reaches for my hands, but I jerk back before she can touch me.

"Alexa, I know you still haven't moved past your father's death. Trust me, I loved him too."

"If you loved him that much, you wouldn't disrespect his memory like this," I snap, heat burning the back of my eyes.

Her face twists. "What would you have me do, Alexa? It's been nine years. Nine years of being alone. Don't I deserve happiness too?"

Her voice cracks. And that's when I see it, the loneliness, the ache she's been carrying. For the first time, it hits me that maybe I haven't let her move on. Maybe I chained her to my grief along with my own.

My throat burns and I swallow hard.

"Alright. Fine. I get it. I won't stop you from being happy."

Relief washes over her face. She hugs me so tight it knocks the air out of me.

"Thank you, sweetheart. You don't know how much this means."

When she finally lets go, she's already waving at the movers. "Go pack your things. They'll take care of the rest."

I nod, but my feet feel heavy as I head for my room.

The drive takes forever. I don't even realize I've stopped breathing until the car turns onto a long, gated driveway.

The mansion sprawls in front of us, stone walls, shiny cars, gardens trimmed to perfection. It looks like a set piece from a movie, not a place actual humans live.

"This is where he lives?" I whisper, my voice catching. "I didn't even think anyone could afford to buy this property" my mouth stays ajar

Mom beams. "Yes, he moved towns for me. Isn't it beautiful?"

At the front entrance, a man waits. Tall, polished, carrying himself like someone who belongs in a house like this. His smile widens when he sees her, and he pulls her into a hug like they've always been together.

"This is Alexa," Mom says, her eyes glowing.

He turns to me, warm and steady. "Your mother's told me so much. I'm Jackson."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Jackson," I mumble, shaking his hand.

He chuckles. "Please. Just Jackson."

The way he looks at her makes me swallow hard. It's not fake. He really does care.

Inside, the place is insane. Marble floors, chandeliers the size of cars, paintings that probably cost more than our old apartment. Every detail screams money. My skin prickles just standing here.

"I was just telling your mother dinner's ready," Jackson says, gesturing toward a dining hall that looks like a banquet scene waiting for royalty.

The table stretches long, lined with food that smells too good to be real. I sit beside Mom, watching the way she glows when Jackson pulls out her chair.

For a second, I let myself believe maybe this isn't all bad.

Then Jackson looks at the doorway. "Ah, you're here. Join us, son.

"

I freeze, fork halfway to my mouth.

I turn.

Baron.

He strolls in like he owns the place, his hands shoved in his pockets, his face carved into cool disinterest. But when his eyes land on me, his steps falter. Just for a second. Just long enough to feel like lightning hit between us.

"Meet my son, Baron Jackson," Jackson announces proudly. "And soon... your stepbrother."

Stepbrother.

The word slams into me. My pulse trips over itself. My mouth refuses to move.

Baron's gaze locks with mine. Neither of us looks away. Neither of us even breathes.

"Have you two met before?" Jackson asks, curious.

Silence. My chest feels like it might crack open.

Finally, Baron says flatly, "I'm not hungry, Father."

He turns and leaves, footsteps echoing down the hallway before a door slams somewhere in the mansion.

Jackson sighs. "I'm sorry about him. Baron's... difficult. He hasn't accepted me remarrying. I hope you'll understand."

I nod, but my head is spinning. He's not just the stranger who saved me. He's not just the boy who sits next to me in class. He's my soon-to-be stepbrother.

And the way he looked at me just now? That wasn't brotherly.

Mom touches my arm gently. "Don't worry about him, Alexa. Give him time."

I push back my chair. "I should talk to him."

"Alexa-" she starts

"It's fine," I cut her off. "We sit together at school. He'll get it."

I slip out before she can stop me.

The mansion is a maze. I follow instinct, the memory of his footsteps leading me down a too-quiet hallway and then I am shoved.

My back slams into the wall and I gasp.

Baron's face is inches from mine, his eyes burning with something dark and unreadable.

"I'll make this clear," he says, voice low and razor-sharp. "My father marrying your mother doesn't make us family. I will never accept you as my stepsister."

His words cut deep, sharper than I expect. I mean shouldn't care. I shouldn't. But it stings anyway, I'm being rejected before he can even get to know me.

For a second, I don't know if I want to shove him away or demand why he's staring at me like he hates me... and something else.

Then he releases me, stepping back. Without another word, he disappears into a room, slamming the door so hard the floor shakes.

I press a hand to my chest, breath ragged.

Whatever this thing is between us, it's only just beginning.

Alexa's POV

By the time I walk back into the dining room, Mom and Jackson are still seated at the long table, leaning toward each other, laughing like they're the only two people in the world.

Their smiles are so wide, so easy, it almost hurts to look at them. For a second, I hesitate at the doorway. If I stand here any longer, I might actually choke on all the happiness floating around this room.

I clear my throat and step forward. "Mom," I say carefully, "I need to head out for a bit. I left some of my books with Rodney."

Mom's brows pull together, worry flickering across her face, but before she can say anything, Jackson is already responding. "I'll send one of my men to go with you," he offers smoothly, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Panic rises in me. The last thing I want is some bodyguard shadowing me. "That won't be necessary," I say quickly, waving my hand. "Rodney couldn't hurt a fly. He's harmless." I force a laugh, thinking of his stammering voice and those thick glasses that constantly slide down his nose.

Jackson studies me for a moment, his gaze steady, assessing, and then he shrugs. "Suit yourself."

Mom still looks uneasy. "It's past seven, Alexa. Don't stay out too long."

"I won't." I give her a smile, one that feels more like a performance than anything genuine, and grab my purse before either of them can change their minds.

The moment I step outside, cool night air rushes over me, sharp and heavy with the smell of rain. I pull out my phone and dial Rodney, but it rings and rings without an answer. A second later, my screen lights up with a text. "Can't talk. Meet me here." There's an address attached, one I don't recognize.

I frown. It's not far but its still weird, I shrug, it's

fine. I'll grab my stuff and come straight back.

The bigger problem is finding a cab. Jackson's mansion is tucked away on spiraling roads with barely any streetlights. My shoes scuff against uneven pavement as I walk toward the main road, irritation building with every step.

And then I hear it.

A scream.

High-pitched and raw and it slices through the quiet night.

I freeze, my heart pounding. The street is empty, and I know i should ignore it, I know I should. But my body moves anyway, my feet dragging me toward the sound, like curiosity has taken over my survival instincts.

The noise seems to come from a thicket of bushes lining the road. I shove branches aside, and that's when I see it, an old metal hatch, almost hidden under vines.

"No. Absolutely not." I mutter to myself

Except my hand is already pulling it open, the rusty hinge screeching in protest.

I climb down the ladder, every metal rung is cold against my palms. The air shifts instantly, damp, stale, filled with smoke that lingers in the air. A weak glow flickers at the far end of the tunnel, and my footsteps echo against stone as I inch forward.

Another scream cuts through the darkness, closer this time.

I slap my hands over my ears, shivering, but I don't stop walking. Whoever that is, they need help.

The glow leads me to a door cracked just enough for voices to spill through. I press myself against the wall and peek inside.

A man is tied to a chair, beaten to a bloody mess.

Another man wearing a sharp suit and an air of authority, circles him like a predator. Four others stand silently at the edges, guarding.

"Did you think you would enter my boarders and try to be some mole for him without me finding out?" the man in the suit asks, his voice like steel. "I have men everywhere. There is nowhere you can hide."

The prisoner shakes his head, words spilling out desperate and cracked. "Please-I've always been loyal. I swear, I didn't-"

The man in the suit sighs. Bored. Like he's heard it all before. Then, without hesitation, he pulls out a gun and fires.

The sound rips through the tunnel like thunder.

I stumble back, clamping both hands over my mouth to smother the scream clawing its way up my throat.

The prisoner slumps, his body not lifeless.

My body is trembling so hard I can barely move, but panic shoves me backward. My foot hits an empty bottle, the clatter echoing so loud it feels like the whole tunnel shakes.

The man in the suit snaps his head up. His eyes narrow. "Find that intruder!"

Terror surges through me. I turn and bolt, sprinting for the hatch, lungs burning, legs barely holding me upright.

And then I hear the deep voice.

"Take one more step and you're dead."

The command freezes me. I lift my shaking hands slowly, my breath ragged, fear clawing its way down my spine.

"Turn around."

I obey, my heart hammering, every nerve in my body screaming.

At least a dozen guns are aimed straight at me.

"A girl?" one man mutters.

The suited man sneers. "Spy or not, I don't care. Shoot her."

The world tilts. My knees threaten to give out as several guns lift higher, ready-

But then chaos erupts.

A canister rolls across the floor, bursts open, and thick smoke fills the room. The air burns my throat and stings my eyes. Men shout, cough, stumble blind.

A hand grabs mine in the fog, strong, urgent.

"Come with me," a low, steady and familiar voice whispers back at me

I don't think, I just follow. He pulls me through the smoke, down a narrow corridor stacked with crates. He flicks a switch, dim light flooding the chamber.

My pulse spikes when I catch the figure beside me, head to toe in black, face hidden behind a mask.

He shoves boxes aside, clearing the way to a barricaded exit. "Help me," he mutters, voice strained.

That voice. I know that voice.

Adrenaline surges, and I throw myself against the crates with him until the path clears. Heavy footsteps close in from behind. He kicks the door open, drags me through, and slams it shut behind us.

Cool night air rushes over me. Relief is short-lived. He pulls a grenade from his bag, lobs it back inside, and the explosion shakes the ground beneath us.

We run. Branches whip against my arms as the mansion's distant lights come into view. My lungs ache, but I don't dare stop.

Finally, when he slows, he yanks the mask off.

My heart almost stops.

Baron.

"You?" My voice cracks, disbelief tangled with fear.

His scowl is sharp, his tone sharper. "Do you go looking for trouble just so I can save you?"

Anger flares hot, cutting through the fear. "How did you even know I was there?"

"I knew the Skull gang was meeting tonight." He adjusts the strap of his bag like he's talking about the weather. "And I heard you were seeing your friend, so I followed."

The Skull gang. My chest tightens at the way he says it, very casual, and familiar.

"You knew them?" My voice rises. "You just said their name like you've always known who they are. That means you either work with them or-"

"Or what?" His tone is flat, dangerous.

"Or you belong to them," I whisper.

He stares at me, unreadable. Then slowly, he reaches into his jacket.

I freeze as he pulls out a gun, the moonlight glinting off the barrel.

My pulse spikes in terror. "Baron, why do you even have that?"

His gaze hardens, his voice low and lethal. "Because what I'm about to tell you could cost you your life. You need to take this seriously, Alexa."

My throat goes dry. "What are you saying?"

He raises the gun slightly, but not at me, just enough to make his point clear.

"I belong to the Mafia."