The Mafia Vows of Vengeance

Swaby Nolan moved through the dimly lit bar with the confidence of a woman who belonged- because tonight, she did. The air was thick with smoke, the low hum of conversation mingling with the clink of glasses. Men in sharp suits sat in booths along the walls, their conversations hushed but loaded with the weight of business.

She slid onto a barstool, crossing one leg over the other as she waited. She wasn't here for the overpriced whiskey or the lingering scent of danger that came with being in a place like this. No, she was here for one reason-to get close to Matteo Costa, the man who had stolen everything from her.

Seven years had passed since the night her world had burned. The night her father, Alessandro Nolan, and the entire Valenti family had been gunned down in their own home like animals. She had been a teenager then, too young to stop it, but old enough to remember the screams. Old enough to remember the name of the man who had orchestrated it all.

Matteo Costa.

The man who now sat at the head of the empire that should have been hers.

She'd spent the years in exile sharpening her mind, training her body, and learning the underbelly of the world she was born into. Revenge had become her oxygen, and tonight was the first step in executing her plan.

"Drink?" the bartender asked, wiping his hands on a towel.

"Whiskey. Neat," she said, her voice smooth, practiced. She wasn't the same girl who had fled into the night, drenched in the blood of her family. That girl had died alongside them.

A glass slid toward her, but she barely touched it. Her focus was on the man sitting in the private booth at the back of the room.

Matteo Costa.

He was older now, mid-thirties, broad-shouldered with a face carved from stone. Dark hair, piercing eyes, and an aura of absolute authority. A man who had no equal in this city, feared and respected in the same breath.

He hadn't noticed her yet. He was speaking with someone, his fingers tapping lazily against the rim of his glass. The men flanking him were his inner circle-brutal, efficient, and utterly loyal.

Swaby had spent years planning this. Getting here. And yet, sitting this close to the man who had taken everything from her, she felt something unexpected coil in her stomach.

Rage... Grief.

A sick, unwanted attraction to the predator she had come to destroy.

She took a breath, calming herself. This wasn't the time to be reckless. She needed to get close to him, gain his trust, make him believe she was someone he could use. Then, when the moment was right, she would strike.

A shadow loomed beside her, and she turned to find one of Matteo's men watching her. He was tall, built like a bulldozer, and his expression was unreadable.

"Boss wants to see you," he said, jerking his head toward the booth.

Swaby feigned surprise, tilting her head. "And if I say no?"

The man smirked. "Then I carry you there."

She smiled, slow and easy. "Well, we wouldn't want that."

Taking a final sip of her untouched whiskey, she slid off the barstool and followed him. As she approached the booth, Matteo's gaze lifted, locking onto her like a hunter sizing up its prey.

"Sit," he said, his voice deep, commanding.

She did.

"You've been watching me," he noted, swirling the liquid in his glass.

"You noticed," she replied smoothly.

"I notice everything."

Their eyes met, the air between them charged. This was it- the first move in a deadly game. Swaby Nolan had returned... And Matteo Costa had no idea what was coming.

Swaby kept her expression neutral as she met Matteo's gaze. His dark eyes studied her, assessing, calculating. The air in the private booth was thick with the scent of expensive whiskey, cigar smoke, and the raw presence of power.

"You've been watching me," he repeated, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

"I like to observe," she said smoothly, leaning back against the plush leather seat. She crossed her legs, deliberately slow, letting the slit of her dress reveal just enough to be a distraction. She needed him intrigued. Needed him to wonder. "It's how you learn about people."

Matteo tilted his head, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "And what have you learned about me?"

Swaby smiled, pretending to consider her words. "That you're the kind of man who likes control. That you don't tolerate disloyalty. That the people in this room would rather take a bullet than disappoint you." She paused, lowering her voice slightly. "And that you're used to being feared."

Silence stretched between them. Around the booth, Matteo's men tensed, waiting for his reaction.

Then, to her surprise, he chuckled- a deep, rich sound that sent an unexpected shiver down her spine.

"Smart girl," he mused, taking a sip of his drink. "Not many people have the guts to sit here and analyze me to my face."

Swaby shrugged. "Not many people interest me enough to analyze."

Matteo's smirk deepened. "And yet, here you are."

"Here I am," she echoed.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. The movement brought him closer, and for the first time, she could truly appreciate the intensity of his presence. The way his dark gaze felt like it could strip away any secrets.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice deceptively casual.

Swaby had prepared for this moment. She couldn't use her real name- he'd recognize it instantly. Instead, she had carefully built a new identity.

"Sophia Romano," she said smoothly. "Business consultant. Recently relocated from Milan."

Matteo raised a brow. "A consultant? That's a vague profession."

She smiled. "Vagueness keeps people interested."

His fingers tapped lightly against his glass. "And what does a woman like you want with me?"

Swaby leaned in slightly, lowering her voice just enough to force him to listen closely. "I've heard things about you, Mr. Costa. About your empire. About the way you handle business." She let her lips curve into a subtle smirk. "I'm always looking to align myself with powerful people."

Matteo studied her for a long moment, as if weighing her words, her presence, her very existence. Then, he leaned back and exchanged a glance with the man to his right-a broad-shouldered enforcer with sharp eyes and a scar across his jaw.

"Vincent," Matteo said without breaking eye contact with Swaby. "What do you think?"

Vincent took a slow sip of his drink before responding. "I think she's got balls." His gaze flickered over her before he turned back to Matteo. "Could be useful. Or could be trouble."

Matteo hummed in thought. "Trouble can be entertaining."

Swaby smiled. "Only if you can handle it."

A flicker of amusement crossed Matteo's face. "I like her," he admitted, finishing his drink. He turned his gaze back to her, sharp and unwavering. "Let's see if you're as useful as you claim to be, Sophia. Come to my club tomorrow night. Midnight. We'll talk business."

She nodded, hiding the satisfaction curling in her chest. "I'll be there."

Matteo lifted his glass in a mock toast. "Welcome to my world."

Hours Later

The moment Swaby stepped out of the bar, the cool night air did little to calm the storm inside her. She had done it. The first step. She was in.

She walked down the darkened street, her heels clicking against the pavement. The city pulsed around her-bright neon signs, the distant wail of sirens, the ever-present hum of danger.

Her mind was a battlefield of emotions. Hatred. Determination. The ghost of something she didn't want to name when she thought about Matteo Costa. He was supposed to be a monster, nothing more. But sitting across from him, feeling the heat of his gaze, she knew this wouldn't be simple. He wasn't just powerful. He was magnetic. That was dangerous.

She turned a corner, her hand instinctively slipping inside her coat, fingers brushing the cool metal of the knife strapped to her thigh. A shadow moved in the alley ahead, and Swaby tensed.

"Following me, Vincent?" she asked without turning around.

A deep chuckle confirmed her suspicion. "Smart girl."

Slowly, she turned to face him. Vincent leaned against the brick wall, arms crossed, eyes sharp with curiosity. "Boss might be interested in you, but I'm not so easily convinced."

She tilted her head. "Oh? And what is it you're so suspicious about?"

He pushed off the wall, stepping closer. "You don't belong here."

Swaby smiled, unfazed. "And yet, here I am."

Vincent studied her for another long moment before nodding. "Tomorrow night. Don't be late." Then, without another word, he disappeared back into the shadows. Swaby exhaled slowly. This was just the beginning. Tomorrow night, she would step even deeper into Matteo Costa's world... And when the time was right, she would burn it all to the ground.

The bass thrummed through the walls of Vortex, one of the most exclusive clubs in the city. Owned and operated by Matteo Costa, it was more than just a place for overpriced drinks and flashing neon lights- it was a fortress. A gathering place for the powerful, the corrupt, and the untouchable.

Swaby Nolan stood at the entrance, her pulse steady despite the weight of what she was about to do. Dressed in a sleek black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, she looked the part- dangerous, alluring, a woman who belonged in Matteo's world.

She wasn't just here to impress. She was here to infiltrate.

The bouncer, a hulking man in a dark suit, barely spared her a glance before nodding her through. Matteo had already cleared her for entry.

She stepped inside, the atmosphere hitting her like a wave. Strobe lights painted the room in flashes of blue and red, illuminating the packed dance floor where bodies moved in a hypnotic rhythm. At the VIP section on the second level, behind a glass railing, Matteo Costa sat like a king overseeing his kingdom.

Their eyes met. A slow, deliberate smirk touched his lips, and he lifted his glass slightly, a silent acknowledgment of her arrival.

Game on... Upstairs

A suited man- one of Matteo's security- guided her to the private lounge. As she entered, Matteo was already waiting, reclining on a leather couch, a glass of whiskey in hand. Vincent stood nearby, watching her like a hawk, his expression unreadable.

Matteo gestured to the seat across from him. "Sophia."

She smiled as she sat, crossing her legs. "Matteo."

He chuckled, setting his drink down. "I like a woman who doesn't waste time."

"I like a man who appreciates efficiency," she countered.

Matteo studied her, his gaze lingering longer than necessary. "You say you're a business consultant. What kind of business, exactly?"

Swaby leaned forward slightly, keeping her expression calm, confident. "The kind that helps men like you stay ahead."

Vincent scoffed, arms crossed. "That's vague as hell."

She turned her attention to him. "You think I'm lying?"

"I think you're selling yourself without proof."

Matteo tapped his fingers against the glass table between them. "Then prove it."

Swaby had anticipated this. She reached into her small clutch, pulling out a flash drive. "This is a portfolio of work I've done for people in your... profession. Anonymous, of course. Money laundering, investment strategies, eliminating financial threats before they become problems." She set the drive down. "If you check, you'll find that my results speak for themselves."

Matteo stared at the device for a moment before nodding to Vincent. "Run it."

Vincent took the drive and left the room without another word.

Matteo leaned back, swirling his drink. "You don't seem nervous."

She met his gaze. "Should I be?"

A slow smile spread across his lips. "Most people are, when they sit across from me for the first time."

Swaby smiled back, unfazed. "I guess I'm not most people."

Matteo chuckled. "No, you're not."

Silence stretched between them, charged and heavy. Swaby knew she had his interest, but interest wasn't enough- she needed trust. She needed him to see her as an asset, not a threat.

Vincent returned moments later, a grim look on his face. He handed Matteo a tablet, and Matteo scrolled through it, his expression unreadable.

Finally, he set the device down and looked at her. "Impressive."

Swaby relaxed slightly. Step one- complete.

"I could use someone with your skills," Matteo admitted, eyes still locked on her. "But tell me, Sophia-why me? There are plenty of men in this city with power. Why come to me?"

Swaby had prepared for this. "Because you're the best," she said simply. "And I only work with the best."

Matteo's smirk returned, but there was something sharper in his gaze now. "Flattery will get you far in this business. But loyalty gets you further."

Swaby held his gaze, unwavering. "Then let me prove my loyalty."

Matteo leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to something dangerously smooth. "Be careful what you offer, Sophia. Loyalty in my world comes at a price."

Swaby tilted her head, meeting his challenge head-on. "Then name it."

Matteo studied her for a long moment, then smiled. "We'll start small. I have a problem that needs solving. If you handle it well, we'll talk about a more... permanent partnership."

Swaby hid her satisfaction. This was exactly what she needed-to be useful, to get closer, to earn his trust.

"What's the problem?" she asked.

Matteo took another sip of his drink, then set the glass down. "There's a man who owes me a significant amount of money. More importantly, he thinks he can run from his debt." He slid a piece of paper across the table. "His name is Patrick Donahue. Find him. Remind him why running from me is a mistake."

Swaby picked up the paper, reading the name slowly. A test. He wanted to see if she was capable.

She met his gaze once more. "Consider it done."

Matteo's smirk deepened. "Then let's see if you're as good as you claim to be."

Hours Later – Hunting the Target

Swaby stepped out of Vortex and into the night, her mind already working through the task at hand.

Patrick Donahue. A man in debt to Matteo Costa. A man who thought he could escape.

Foolish.

She found an empty alley and pulled out her phone, dialing a number she hadn't used in years.

The voice on the other end answered immediately. "Didn't think I'd hear from you again, Red."

Swaby smirked. "I need a favor."

A pause. Then, "Name it."

"Patrick Donahue. I need to know where he's hiding. Fast."

The man chuckled. "You always did go after the dangerous ones. Give me an hour."

Swaby hung up, slipping her phone back into her purse.

One hour. That was all she needed. Because by the time the sun rose, Patrick Donahue would be begging Matteo Costa for mercy. And Swaby Nolan would be one step closer to her revenge.

The city at night was a different kind of beast. The neon glow from flickering streetlights painted distorted shadows across the cracked pavement, and the hum of distant sirens provided a haunting soundtrack. Swaby Nolan walked with purpose, her heels clicking against the ground as she waited for her contact to call back.

She had spent years preparing for this moment-years studying every major player in the underworld, years learning how to manipulate, infiltrate, and, when necessary, destroy. Matteo Costa was the final piece in her puzzle. Gaining his trust wasn't just a means to an end; it was the key to everything.

The vibration of her phone snapped her from her thoughts. She answered on the first ring.

"Got something for me?"

Her contact, a former hacker-turned-information broker known as Reese, let out a short chuckle. "You never ask how I've been. It's always business with you, Red."

Swaby didn't take the bait. "Time is money, Reese."

"Fine, fine," he sighed. "Patrick Donahue. Mid-level money launderer. He used to be useful, but looks like he got greedy. Tried siphoning off funds from one of Costa's offshore accounts."

Swaby's grip on the phone tightened. "And now he's running."

"Exactly. I tracked some of his last transactions-guy's desperate. He's been bouncing from cheap motels, paying in cash, but he made a mistake today."

"I'm listening."

"Booked a room under an alias at The Blue Orchid Inn on the west side. Room 212. Paid for a week upfront, but based on his activity, I doubt he'll last another day before he bolts again."

Swaby smirked. "Then I'll make sure he doesn't get that chance."

Reese hesitated. "You sure about this, Red? I've seen you play the long game before, but Costa? He's different."

"I can handle him," she said, her voice steady.

Reese sighed. "I hope so. I'll send you the rest of the details. Watch your back."

Swaby hung up and tucked her phone away. Now, it was time to work.

The Hunt

The Blue Orchid Inn was the kind of place people went when they didn't want to be found. The neon sign buzzed weakly, some of its letters burnt out, leaving only Blu Orch flickering in the darkness. A couple of cars sat in the parking lot, their owners either passed out inside or doing something they didn't want the world to know about.

Swaby approached the front desk, her expression unreadable as she rang the bell.

A tired-looking man in his forties peered at her over the counter. "Need a room?"

"No. I'm here to see a friend. Room 212."

The man frowned. "We don't-"

Swaby pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and slid it across the counter. "I won't take long."

His eyes darted to the money, then back to her face. With a sigh, he pocketed the bill and gestured toward the stairs. "Just don't make a mess."

She didn't answer, already moving toward the second floor.

The hallway smelled of cigarette smoke and cheap air freshener. Room 212 was at the end of the corridor, the door slightly ajar.

Amateur.

Swaby positioned herself against the wall, listening. She could hear rustling, the sound of a zipper, hurried movements. Patrick was packing. He knew he was running out of time.

She moved quickly, pushing the door open before he could react.

Patrick Donahue froze. A wiry man in his late thirties, he looked exhausted-unshaven, sweat dripping from his temple, a suitcase half-packed on the bed. His eyes widened when he saw her.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded, stepping back instinctively.

Swaby smiled, but there was no warmth in it. She stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

"Matteo Costa sent me."

His face drained of color. "I-I was gonna pay him back!"

She tilted her head. "Were you?"

"Yes! I just-I needed time!"

Swaby took a slow step forward, enjoying the way he flinched. "Matteo doesn't like waiting, Patrick."

"I swear, I was gonna fix it!" His eyes darted to the bedside table, where a gun sat within reach.

Swaby sighed. "Don't."

Patrick hesitated.

Too late.

In one fluid motion, she grabbed the lamp from the nightstand and slammed it down onto his wrist just as he reached for the gun. He let out a strangled cry, stumbling backward, clutching his injured arm.

She didn't give him time to recover. A swift kick to his knee sent him collapsing onto the bed.

"Please!" he gasped. "I have money! I can-"

She pressed the cold barrel of his own gun against his forehead. "I'm not here for negotiations."

Patrick swallowed hard. "Wh-what does he want me to do?"

Swaby considered him for a moment. Matteo hadn't given specific instructions on how she should handle this.

A test.

She lowered the gun, stepping back. "You're coming with me."

Patrick blinked. "What?"

"You're going to tell Matteo everything. Yourself."

"No, no, no-"

Swaby grabbed him by the collar, pulling him up. "Either you walk out of here, or I drag you out. Your choice."

Terror flashed in his eyes, but he nodded. "I-I'll come."

She released him and gestured to the door. "Good choice."

Delivering the Package

Swaby pulled up outside Vortex an hour later, Patrick sitting rigidly beside her in the passenger seat. He hadn't spoken since they left the motel. Good.

She led him inside, past the crowd, past security. Matteo was waiting in the VIP lounge, a glass of whiskey in hand, Vincent standing nearby.

Matteo's brows lifted slightly as he saw them. "Impressive."

Patrick fell to his knees. "Matteo, please! I-I wasn't trying to steal from you, I swear-"

Matteo waved a hand, silencing him. His eyes shifted to Swaby. "You didn't kill him."

"You didn't say I should," she replied evenly.

Matteo chuckled. "No, I didn't." He studied her for a moment, then turned back to Patrick. "You disappointed me, Patrick."

"I can fix it! I swear!"

Matteo sighed. "No, you can't."

He glanced at Vincent, who pulled out a silencer-equipped pistol and fired a single shot.

Patrick slumped forward, lifeless.

Swaby didn't flinch.

Matteo's gaze returned to her, sharp with curiosity. "You handled that well."

She met his eyes without hesitation. "Told you I was useful."

Matteo's smirk returned. "I think I'm starting to believe you."

She smiled. "Good. Because I'm just getting started."

And just like that, she took another step closer to Matteo Costa.Another step closer to her revenge