Her Mate Turns out to be the Mafia King

Mila's POV

"Where is it? I know this isn't everything!"

My stepmom has been shouting since the second I walked in and even though I've told her multiple times that I'm not hiding any money, she doesn't believe me.

Of course, that's not entirely true. I have been hiding money from her. The tips I've made during my time working have been going into a jar hidden in my room. It's the money I use for school, and I will never hand it over to her. Going to school is the only thing that will help me get out of this place. Even though I'm technically an adult, I don't have anywhere to go yet.

"Are you listening to me?" My stepmom's high pitch screech snaps me back into the present and I lower my eyes to the floor.

"Yes. But I'm telling you the truth..." I risk looking up at her.

She's a beautiful woman, but underneath is a monster.

"...I don't have anymore." I finish off my reply, only to feel a sharp pain across my cheek.

It isn't the first time she's done this, but this time feels different. A second later, I realized why. Warmth moves down my face and I lift my hand to feel what's causing the sensation. When I pull my hand back, I see the red blood on my fingers. Startled, I pull my hand back, my heart racing. The vivid red of my blood stains my fingertips, stark against my pale skin.

A dark image flashes into my mind, but I push it away. That is a memory I never want to revisit.

I quickly shake my head, forcing the haunting image away. This isn't the moment to let the past consume me.

I take a deep breath and steady myself.

"You are no longer the vulnerable person you used to be. You are stronger, capable of defining your own worth and creating your own happiness." I murmur to myself.

That's what my therapist told me last week when I was consulting online.

"See what you made me do? You make me so angry and then I'm forced to hurt you. If you would stop lying to me, then I wouldn't get so upset." She says with a huff and crosses her arms over her chest like a pouting child than an aggressor.

I watch her but don't say a thing. What could I say?

As she stands there, arms crossed over her chest, I can't help but see a glimmer of vulnerability in her eyes. The cycle of hurt runs deep, and perhaps, just perhaps, I can find a way to break it.

"I have some things I need to finish before school tomorrow," I say and move to walk past her, but she grabs my arm hard.

"We're not done here." She hisses at me.

Her hand squeezes tighter and I start to feel a whole new kind of warmth. See, it wasn't just my dad and me who gained an ability. My stepmom did too, and hers was the ability to burn anything she touched if she wanted...including me.

A few years ago, a series of scientific research buildings were attacked. In an effort to weaken our country's ability to further in the scientific field, several of our research facilities in various parts of the country were destroyed. What these enemies didn't expect was that the chemicals from those research facilities had seeped into our water supply and had slowly been manipulating our DNA. Last year was the first report of someone showing a hint of supernatural abilities. Then another and another until suddenly, there were people with abilities popping up all over the place.

My father was one of those people, only the change didn't agree with him. The power literally ate him alive from the inside out and killed him. I have no doubt that if he had achieved full transformation, he would have used whatever power he was blessed with to hurt others. He was that kind of monster. People with abilities were either feared or envied, and he would have made sure people feared him.

I, on the other hand, have tried hiding my ability for as long as I can. My ability would have me locked up and used until nothing was left of me. The ability to heal is a gift everyone would want to take advantage of, so I don't use it...ever.

"There isn't anything else I can say that will make you believe me." I point out and I bite back the whimper I want to release from the feeling of my skin burning under her touch.

"I will find that money Mila, and when I do, your punishment will be the worst you've ever felt." She releases my arm and I can see the red of her fire slowly fading away from the palms of her hands. "Get away from me."

With a sharp twist, she turns on her heels, leaving a whirlwind of frustration in her wake. I stand there, trembling, as the echo of her threat reverberates through my mind.

Once the tension dissipates, a wave of relief washes over me, mingling with the residual fear.

As her figure becomes smaller in the distance, my facade crumbles, and I allow myself to release a silent sob. My arm is throbbing and when I look down, I see an angry red hand shaped mark branded on my skin. It didn't reach too far into my skin to cause severe damage, but it's enough to scar and cause incredible pain. It's just another to add to my collection of marks I already have.

I could have healed myself many times, but I never have. Revealing my ability would be catastrophic; she'd never let me leave this house if she knew. And that's not a life I'm willing to accept.

No way am I letting that happen!

I take in a few shaky breaths before I head for the stairs and jog up to the second floor. My room is the smallest one on this floor and as far away from all the other rooms as it could possibly get.

Out of sight, out of mind, right?

I walk quickly to my room and head straight to my dresser where I keep all the supplies I need to treat the burn. Once I have it all, I set everything on my side table and flip on the lamp. It's bright enough to let me see my wound, but that's about it. I carefully set up my supplies and slowly put creams on the burn before wrapping it in special gauze.

Did you know you can't use just any bandage on burns, otherwise it can cause further pain?

I didn't, but I learned that lesson the hard way.

Once I'm done, I grab the duffle bag sitting next to my bed and continue to stuff a few things inside. My burn kit being one of them and a few new notebooks and pens for taking notes. I move to grab my phone charger and see a text waiting.

Scott. The sight of the familiar name sends a shiver down my spine, and a chill of anxiety snakes its way through my veins.

It's him again, the relentless pursuer of my peace.

He won't leave me alone! No one will.

I begged my dad to let me change my number, but he refused, and I have been hounded with messages ever since that day three years ago. The pain from that day has never properly healed thanks to the constant messages I receive reminding me of who I am in this world.

A lier...pathetic...and far worse.

He orchestrated a symphony of deceit, turning everyone against me, his toxic influence lingering even after all these years. He's carved a permanent mark on my psyche, a shadow I can't escape. Why can't he just move on? Why does he persist in haunting my every moment?

I spare myself the torment of reading his message, opting to toss my phone into the bag instead. The only reprieve I can find is in sleep – a temporary sanctuary from the barrage of negativity that life seems to throw my way. With a sigh and a glimmer of hope for a calmer tomorrow, I pull the duffle bag's zipper shut.

Winter semester awaits, promising new beginnings and a chance to escape the relentless ghosts of my past.

***

The piercing sound of my phone alarm breaks the silence of the morning, jolting me awake from a restless sleep. With a groggy hand, I reach over and fumble to silence the obnoxious noise. The room is dimly lit, casting long shadows on the walls. As the remnants of sleep fade away, a heavy realization settles in my chest-I need to leave before she wakes up.

Reluctantly, I throw off the covers and slide out of bed, trying not to disturb the peacefulness that still lingers in the room. My movements are swift and purposeful as I hastily put on my clothes.

Ten minutes later, I find myself standing at the bus stop, the chilly morning air nipping at my exposed skin. The events of last night replay in my mind like a broken record, haunting every thought. Unable to resist any longer, I unlock my phone and open the text message that had arrived during the night-a message that fills me with a sense of dread and regret. My stomach churns, and I clench my fists, fighting the urge to hurl my phone onto the pavement.

Just as despair threatens to consume me, a loud slam echoes through the air, tearing my attention away from my swirling emotions. I turn towards the source of the commotion. A girl, her voice fractured by sobs, confronts a guy, her tear-streaked face filled with anguish.

"I can't believe you, Julian! How could you do this?" her voice trembles, a mix of anger and hurt.

Julian, seemingly unfazed, lets out an exasperated sigh. He was unmoved by the storm he has stirred. The demeanor exudes a weary detachment. "I've told you countless times, Sarah. We were just a hookup. It doesn't mean we're in a relationship."

Those words, seemingly casual, strike like a bolt of lightning. My own memories, long suppressed, surge forth like a relentless tide, flooding my senses with humiliation and pain. The sensation of being used and discarded with callous indifference rears its ugly head again.

In a moment beyond conscious control, I find myself striding toward them. The fire within me, ignited by my own past wounds, propels me forward. It's not just about me anymore.

***

Julian's POV

I caught a whiff of a peculiar fragrance, which made me feel a bit uneasy all over. Just as I was in a daze, I was given a nudge.

A gentle nudge catches me off guard, a push so delicate that I barely register it.

A girl stepped into my line of sight, so my eyes drop to hers and those amber and beautiful eyes are burning with hatred toward...

Toward me?

Who the hell is this girl to be looking at me like that?

But why does the fragrance is so near? Comes from her?

"How dare you say something like that? Women are not play things to use and throw away any time you please! I don't care what you told her. She deserves some respect!" Her words might as well be wielding pitchforks.

She's not about to wait around for applause. With a final huff and an eye-roll that could rival any teen drama, she turns on her heels, storming off with enough drama to put a soap opera to shame.

As if under some spell, my gaze remains glued to her retreating form, tracking her until she blends into the bustling scenery.

"Wow. She's awesome." The girl still standing next to me says.

Right, I'd almost forgotten she was there.

"She's right. I don't deserve how you treated me. You have no idea how to treat a woman properly. I don't know who hurt you, but I won't let you do the same to me. Goodbye Julian." She walks off in the opposite direction, leaving me a little stunned.

What the fuck just happened?

Julian's POV

"Sir? Your father is waiting." Bash, my security detail says from behind me.

"Yeah...let's go." I shake my head to clear up whatever had just happened out of my head.

There's no way I'm walking into my father's office looking dazed from some bizarre encounter at a fucking bus stop, of all places. Bash opens the passenger door for me and I slide in with the smoothness that comes from extensive training.

Image is everything in my world, and after what just happened, I need to play the part of a mature businessman. Bash joins me in the car and pulls out into traffic with ease. He's used to driving these streets and could maneuver through the web of traffic with his eyes closed.

It's why my dad assigned the guy as my driver along and body guard or babysitter, whatever sounds better.

All he is to me is someone who gets in my way, but it's a necessary evil I have to deal with for now. I've come this far, and I don't intend to show my hand yet.

We drive silently, but I can feel my phone vibrating several times. I sigh and pull the annoying thing out to see ten messages waiting in the group chat.

Levi started the damn thing in highschool and has kept it going for five years now. Most of the guys just bitch about life or make plans to hit a club.

Not my scene, but every time I try to delete the damn app, Levi puts it back. I should just change the password on my phone, but I can't be bothered.

Besides, this isn't my real phone, anyway. I scan the messages real quick, but don't bother replying. It's nothing I care about. The only person I tolerate is Levi.

Those other idiots can go to hell for all I care. They have their heads so far up their asses that they don't know which way is up.

They inherited their positions from their rich daddies and still complain like they have it so hard. They don't know shit from where they're sitting in their ivory towers.

I'm nothing like them. My kingdom lies in the darkness where no one dares to look.

Sure, I have a spot in my father's more...legal business, but that's a front. It's a mask I wear so that people don't look too hard at what I do.

My father had taught me well. We hide the truth behind smiles and well mannered small talk in the business world while running a whole other world that is sucking those rich bastards dry.

So no, I don't give a shit about some whining rich boys.

Bash pulls up to the front of one of my dad's clubs and jumps out to open the door for me. I climb out and fix my suit jacket and cuffs. The place is empty right now, but by sundown there will be a line down the street to get in. This is the biggest spot in the city and yet another way for my father to clean his dirty money.

It's also the place I'll be taking over in three months when I turn twenty-one.

I walk toward the front door and get a nod from the guards in greeting. Bash stays behind to talk with them while I head inside. Even though the club is empty, there are several employees around getting things set up. I glance around at what will soon be mine and smirk.

This place is mine and all the hellish fun that lies within it. I pass the bar and head down the hallway where there are private rooms being cleaned.

This place is the place to go to indulge in fantasy and sin, so it needs to be thoroughly cleaned.

There are another pair of guards standing outside my father's office door and one of them opens the door when I reach them. I walk in and spot my father sitting at his desk with his phone to his ear. He waves me in and I take a seat across from him to wait.

"I don't give a fuck what he thinks our agreement was. If he doesn't have the money in our account by tonight, then he needs to be shown what happens when you cross me. Get it done." He snaps.

I have to fight myself from rolling my eyes. The things he says sound like lines from an old cheesy mafia movie.

You don't have to threaten people with pain.

In my experience, threats are better delivered through actions, not rehearsed monologues. In our world, you administer pain before they even have a chance to beg for mercy or spew excuses about why they're short of what we demand.

"Julian." My father says in greeting.

"Father." I reply just as coldly.

"I hear you had a situation this morning." He raises a brow at me in question.

I shrug. "Just another girl who thinks sleeping with me means I'll get down on one knee for her. It'll blow over."

My father's face tightens. "I'm trying to move our business in a new direction, and you making a scene with some girl not on the side of the road isn't helping. It would have been one thing if it happened once, but you popping up in the news because of another problem with a woman isn't helping with the plans I have for us."

"Right. Your plans to go legit. It's a waste of time. We're Monroes and we have run this city for the last five generations. It used to be something you told me to be proud of, and now this? It's a fucking joke." I shake my head at him.

"Julian, we need to be more careful. The world is changing and if we want to stay ahead of that change, then we need to understand how to run legitimate businesses. This isn't about cleaning money anymore. This is about a shift in dynamics and leaving a lot of this stuff behind. We can't be connected to any of this if we want to move forward. It's time son." He sounds stern and harsh like he always has, but there's a softness there that is showing his age.

He's getting old, and this whole thing about moving our fronts into legitimate businesses is because he can't handle this life anymore. He tried to get his brothers on board with his new plan, but like me; they thought he had lost his mind. Our family has ruled this city from the darkness for too long, and none of us are ready to let it go yet.

"Since things will be changing, it means you need to be ready to take a bigger role in the business. You didn't finish your degree after your mom, but it's time." He slides a brochure across the desk toward me.

I lean in and snatch it from the surface. It's a brochure, showcasing a school with a slightly awkward-looking man and woman flashing smiles on the front cover.

"What the hell is this?" I ask.

"I'm sending you to Mishnia University to finish your business degree. Our investors will feel more confident working with you if you have the proper education. You start tomorrow."

"What? I'm not going back to school! Fuck no." I throw the brochure down and scowl at him.

"You will go Julian. If you want me to keep my word, then you will go. Do you understand me?"

I clench my jaw and ball my hands into tight fists. He has used this threat on me before and if it was anything else, I would tell him to stick his threat up his ass, but this isn't just anything. I can't risk him making good on his threat, so I back down. Until I'm able to finish what I've started, I need his help, so I blow out a breath and nod.

"Fine, but I know you. You aren't sending me there just to learn. Why this school?" I ask.

He smirks. "You are definitely my son. As a matter of fact, there is something else I need from you..."

He leans forward, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial tone. "Julian, you've always been the one with a way of... handling delicate matters. I've been hearing whispers about a potential threat rising in the underworld. Rumors of a rival faction gaining strength."

I narrow my eyes at him, trying to decipher the layers of his words. "And you want me to deal with this?"

He nods slowly, his expression as calculating as ever. "Yes. I want you to infiltrate this rival faction, gather information, and neutralize any threat they pose. We can't afford to have anyone challenge our supremacy, especially not now."

I lean back in my chair, a mixture of unease and excitement churning within me. This is the kind of challenge I thrive on-strategy, deception, and asserting dominance. The idea of diving into a dangerous game, even if it's in the pursuit of our family's legacy, sparks a fire in my veins.

But then a thought gnaws at the edge of my mind. "What's in it for me, Father?"

His lips curl into a wry smile, as if he had been expecting this question. "Once you're inside, you'll have access to a network of contacts, resources, and information that could prove invaluable for our expansion into legitimate ventures. You'll have the tools to secure our position as we transition into a new era."

"You understand, Julian," my father continues, "this is not a simple task. You'll need to be cunning, patient, and above all, you'll need to trust no one."

Mila's POV

As it turns out, I misread my schedule. It turns out that my classes don't start until tomorrow, but I was supposed to start my new job right after my last class.

It would be a waste of time for me to take the bus home just to leave again, so I text Isabella to see if she can pick me up. She had an appointment with her councilor today, so she should still be on campus.

It only takes her a few seconds to answer.

Izzy: I'll be done in ten minutes! Are you okay waiting for a bit?

Me: Of course. No hurries.

Izzy: Thanks babe! I'll see you in a little while. (Kissy face emoji)

I smile down at her text.

She's always so upbeat and ready to go for anything, which still makes me wonder why she picked me as a friend. I'm a lot more quiet and standoffish than her, but what do they say? Behind every extravert is an introvert. Well, that is definitely true for the two of us.

I find an empty table near the school coffee kiosk and sit down to wait. A few whispers float my way, but I ignore them. It's nothing I haven't heard before.

Speaking of that, my phone goes off again. This time it's from a number I don't recognize. The message hits me like an arrow to the chest. Every word is vile and mean. Even after all the things I've been called, it doesn't hurt any less.

My eyes burn, but I fight back the tears. No way am I going to cry in public. Another message comes in from the same number, and a sound of shock escapes me before I can stifle it.

This one is a lot worse.

This one is a lot darker than any I've gotten so far.

It isn't from my ex since he wouldn't bother hiding it was him, which is why he still texts me from his personal number. This is someone else and they aren't holding back. The messages sound almost too personal.

"Mila!" My head snaps up at the sound of my name and I see Isabella waving at me from her too cute pink VW bug.

They stopped making those cars ages ago, but she won't let it go even after her father offered to buy her a new one. Honestly, the thing is basically her in car form, so I'm not surprised.

I pocket my phone and head her way, but I keep my eyes facing forward.

The whispers have gotten louder and I don't want to draw any more attention to myself than necessary. If I could have gone to a different college so that I could escape my past, I would have, but I can't. Isabella is the only one that makes going here bearable.

I settle into her car, the comfort of the seat easing the tension that had gripped me just moments ago. She leans over, arms enveloping me in a warm embrace. Her hug serves as a remedy, gradually dispelling the heaviness that clung to me earlier. A smile tugs at my lips – a genuine response to her comforting gesture. There's something about her embraces that has a magical way of lifting my spirits.

Her grip loosens, and I'm left with a lingering sense of connection, a residue of her care. But then, before I can fully relish the moment, she plants a smacking kiss on my cheek. The unexpected contact makes me scrunch my face in mock horror, my hand instinctively wiping it away. My reaction becomes the catalyst for her unrestrained laughter, a sound that's both infectious and endearing.

"Don't wipe away my love Mila!" She sing songs.

I roll my eyes, feigning annoyance to match her theatrics. "Stop being gross, Isabella!"

Her laughter fills the car, a symphony of joy that envelops us as she navigates the car out of the parking lot. "So you have no class today and don't want to go home. What should we do to pass the time?"

"No." I say as soon as she smirks at me. "Isabella please no."

She continues to smirk, and I drop my head back with a groan. How did I let myself get into this situation again?

My unspoken pleas for a miracle remain unanswered as we pull into the local mall, the wheels crunching on the asphalt. A mere fifteen minutes have passed since her initial question.

Isabella derives an odd sense of satisfaction from subjecting me to shopping expeditions. It's a torture that has become a recurring event, and today is no exception. It always ends with her buying me clothes I would never wear because my stepmom would wonder where I got it, and then take them.

Isabella doesn't know about my life outside of school though, so she doesn't know that all the nice things she's ever bought me are hidden in the back of my closet. She's always too distracted to notice I've never worn any of them and I'm glad. It would break my heart to explain the situation to her, mostly because she would immediately try to help me, but that would only make things worse.

Money is all my stepmom wants, so if she finds out that I have a rich friend, she will work her way into our friendship and ruin it. She'll find a way to get money from Isabella, and I won't let that happen.

As we leave the car, I resign myself to the inevitable. The mall's entrance beckons, and Isabella's triumphant grin assures me that there's no escape.

Isabella grabs my hand and drags me inside to the giant building, not minding one bit that I'm dragging my feet. I pulled on a hoodie from my duffle bag and pulled the hood on, hoping it will conceal me enough from anyone who might recognize me.

Yep, even in a huge place like this, I'm bound to run into someone who hates me.

So far I've been lucky, but luck always runs out, eventually.