Adelina

Adelina

In this life, loyalty to family is everything—until the day blood turns on blood, and you learn betrayal doesn’t always come from strangers. It comes with your last name.

Those words that her Papa would caution his children with lay engraved inside their minds, their entire beings, for the rest of their lives. And yet, Adelina had done the impossible, the one carnal sin that would only mean death in the world she came from – betraying the family. In her betrayal, came the death of her older brother, Luciano.

What had she done?

Her eyes fluttered open as pain shot through her abdomen to her ribs and into her head. Shit, that hurt. Glancing down she noticed the bandages around her torso, stark white and stained with blood. Her eyes wandered adjacent to herself and noticed she was in a familiar room made of pink walls and wooden furniture, her childhood bedroom.

Oh god. She was still home.

Before she could move, a hand shot down to her shoulder, urging back into the bed. Adelina’s breath caught in her throat. Panic curled like smoke in her chest, thick and choking. She blinked fast, her pulse thudding too loudly in her ears. Her mouth felt dry, her tongue sandpaper against the roof of her mouth. Through her panic she glanced up to see brown eyes meeting hers, Anna.

Thank god, it was just Anna. The housemaid could be trusted, Adelina was sure of it. Anna was safe, Anna was an ally – for now at least.

“Miss Adelina, please keep your voice down.”

Her eyes darted around the room—her room. Posters from a childhood long gone, shelves stacked with books she’d once loved, a porcelain ballerina on the vanity collecting dust. All untouched. Preserved, as if the world hadn’t bled out just a few hours ago.

But it had.

Luciano.

His name hit her like another bullet, straight through the sternum this time. Her oldest brother. Her protector once. Now dead by her hand—no, not hers, but the choices she’d made. To save Ivy. To do what was right. ′You did what you had to do, Lu was out of control.′ She reminded herself.

Her father’s voice echoed again in her skull. “Until the day blood turns on blood, and you learn betrayal doesn’t always come from strangers. It comes with your last name.”

Was this what he’d meant? Had he always known it would be her?

“Anna,” she rasped, her voice paper-thin. “What happened?”

Anna’s hand, warm and rough, trembled where it steadied Adelina’s shoulder. Her eyes flicked toward the closed door, her gray hair falling over her shoulders. She leaned in, whispering like the walls had ears. Because they did.

“I don’t know everything,” Anna said, “but Don Nicolas ordered you brought here. Said you were to be kept alive—for now. He…” Her voice cracked. “He said he’s planning to make an example of you.”

The words landed like ice water, dousing every inch of warmth from Adelina’s body. An example. Nick wanted to make an example of her. Her brother. The one who always hovered between peace and war, always trying to hold the family together. The same one who used to sneak her candy before dinner and wipe her tears when Papa yelled too loud.

Now Don. Now executioner.

Adelina’s hands shook as she tried to sit up, but the pain in her side flared hot and blinding. She let out a strangled cry and collapsed back into the pillow.

“No—don’t move,” Anna said urgently, pressing her back. “You’ll tear the stitches. You lost a lot of blood.”

“I can’t stay here.” Adelina argued, the break in her voice betraying just how afraid she was. Lu was uncontrollable and unpredictable, but Nick? Nick was calculated, smart — and would ensure that Adelina paid for what she did to their family. Despite how close they were — despite the fact that they were siblings, Nick was set on revenge.

“You won’t.” Anna’s voice though quiet was steady, her resolve surprising. “I’m going to help you escape.”

Adelina attempted to rise up once more only for Anna to keep a steady hand on her. “Anna… no. No, if they catch you—Nick will kill you.”

“I’ve lived in this house since before you were born,” Anna said softly, urging her back down. “I know its every secret. You forget, I changed all your diapers and scrubbed blood from your father’s suits. I’ve seen what this family does to traitors. I’m not blind.” She paused, smoothing the damp hair back from Adelina’s forehead with a tenderness that made something deep inside her ache. “But you’re not a traitor, darling girl. Not to me. You did what no one else had the guts to do.”

Adelina swallowed the lump in her throat. Guilt clawed at her insides worse than the wound in her belly. “You could die,” she whispered. “Because of me.”

Anna smiled then. Sad and sure. “So be it. I’d rather die helping you than live watching them burn down what little good’s left in this house.”

A sound echoed from down the hall—heavy footsteps, coming towards her room. Anna’s eyes widened. “Be still, now. Don’t make a sound.” She pulled the blanket higher over Adelina’s body and quickly dipped her hand into the drawer of the nightstand, slipping something cold and metal beneath the pillow—Adelina could feel the weight of it instantly. A gun.

As Anna straightened and stepped away, her hands smoothed her apron like nothing was wrong. The door creaked.

Adelina lay still, heart slamming in her chest, the smell of blood and old roses thick in the air. Her eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling, but her thoughts spiraled beneath the surface.

She had one shot at survival—one chance to escape before Nick could so much touch a hair on her body. If she got out, she’d disappear without a trace. There was nothing left for her now in this damned city. One brother was already dead. The other had just declared war.

And Adelina Colombo never cared for a useless war.

The door shut and silence filled the room, the kind of silence that rang in her ears and made her feel like prey. It was the kind of stillness that meant something was watching—or about to.

Tearing the blankets down with a wince, Adelina slowly sat up despite Anna’s orders. The pain in her side screamed in protest, hot and jagged. She bit down hard on her lip, tasting blood, but refused to cry out.

Her hand slid beneath the pillow. Cold steel met her fingers, and she pulled the gun free, clutching it to her chest like a lifeline. She didn’t want to use it. God knew she’d seen enough death. Caused enough. But if it came down to it, she wouldn’t hesitate.

Her bare feet touched the hardwood floor with a hiss of breath. She steadied herself against the dresser, nostrils flaring at the familiar scent of wood polish and old perfume. Everything in this room had been preserved as though the girl she once was might walk back in. Innocent. Oblivious.

She hasn’t been that girl in a long time.

The hallway outside was dimly lit, long shadows cast by a single overhead light. The Family mansion had grown quieter since the battle with the Lost Brothers— the skirmish left the estate bruised and thinned. Half the guards were injured or dead. She was sure that some had even fled. It was the only reason escape was even possible.

Her body was weak, trembling from blood loss and trauma, but adrenaline shoved her forward. Every creak of the old wooden floorboards beneath her steps sent her heart slamming against her ribs. She kept the gun tucked against her hip, hidden in the folds of the oversized hoodie Anna had thrown over her dresser for her to take.

Voices floated from the foyer ahead—two guards, chatting idly, unaware that their prisoner was about to walk out the front door.

Damn it. She ducked into a side hallway, teeth clenched. Her breaths came short and fast now, panic tightening her lungs. Her vision blurred for a second. She steadied herself against the wall, sweat slipping down her neck despite the cold.

Think, Adelina. Think.

A floorboard creaked behind her and her heart stopped. A figure turned the corner, flashlight beam slicing through the darkness—and then—

“Hey!” the guard barked, starting toward her.

But before he could raise his radio, a loud crash erupted from the corridor to the right. A vase shattered. Followed by a scream.

“Help! Help, someone—!” Relief filled Adelina’s body at the sound of Anna’s frantic albeit theatrical voice.

The guard spun on his heel, bolting toward the sound. Adelina didn’t wait a minute longer. She surged forward, one hand on the wall, another on the gun, and slipped down the side entrance toward the east wing exit.

Doors. Why were there so many damn doors?

Every hallway she turned down was lined with them—heavy, ornate things she used to admire as a child, now looming like sentinels. Behind each one was a memory she didn’t have time to mourn. Her father’s study where she learned to lie. Her brother’s room where power began to rot him. Her mother’s parlor, still smelling of lilac and loss.

This place had once been her entire world. Now it was a maze she had to survive.

Her footsteps echoed down the marble floor, heart pounding, lungs burning, the sound of her own blood in her ears. She didn’t dare stop. Didn’t dare think. Not about what she was leaving behind—because if she did, she might fall apart right there in the hallway.

When she finally reached the side courtyard, the cold night air punched into her lungs like ice. She nearly collapsed from relief, stumbling into the shadows and ducking low behind a line of shrubs. No one saw her.

Just keep moving.

Her legs shook as she scaled the back gate, landing hard on the other side in the alley. Pain burst down her leg, but she didn’t stop. The gun felt heavier now. Not with use—but with the fact that she hadn’t needed it. Anna had bought her time. Anna had saved her life.

Adelina limped three blocks before spotting a yellow cab idling near the corner. The driver, a man with a newspaper tucked under one arm and cigarette between his lips, eyed her warily as she approached.

She yanked open the door. “East side. Halsted and 47th. Now.”

He looked like he might argue, but one glance at her bloodied hoodie and half-wild eyes shut him up fast.

The cab peeled away from the curb, tires shrieking on wet pavement. Adelina collapsed back into the seat, gun still clutched tight in her lap. She couldn’t stop shaking.

Her thoughts raced toward one name.

Kato Tatsuo.

He was the only person she could trust now. Oyabun of the Yakuza’s Chicago branch. Ruthless. Cunning. And her friend. The kind of man who didn’t ask questions, just dealt in favors and debts.

And she owed him plenty.

Adelina closed her eyes, pressing the cold barrel of the gun to her forehead, as the cab rattled toward the east side.

She’d escaped the Colombo mansion. But she knew better than to believe she was free.

The guards outside the Kato estate let her in without question, already knowing her from her last visit with Cash and Flash. She nodded faintly as they pulled the gate open, not trusting her voice. Her footsteps paused once she crossed the threshold. Her mind, as if it had a will of its own, drifted to Cash McDavid.

The Lost Brothers’ sharp-tongued leader. All bourbon eyes and cocky smirks and fire in his fists. He’d been all she could think about for days after their alliance. There had been a pull, undeniable and inconvenient. But she’d never let herself linger in it. Never let herself hope.

She was a Colombo. Hope was a trap.

And now—she wasn’t sure she’d ever see him again.

She wasn’t sure he’d even want to see her. After all, her family caused the Lost Brothers enough trouble as it was.

The tall doors opened before she could spiral further.

“Miss Colombo, Kato-sama is waiting,” one of the guards said with an incline of his head.

She followed the long hallway inside, past the clean walls and black-tiled floors of the estate that hummed with power and structure. Unlike her family’s house, this one didn’t pretend to be anything it wasn’t. It wasn’t home but fortress disguised with expensive decor and white walls.

The moment she turned the corner into the drawing room, she spotted him—Kato Tatsuo.

Still in his black suit, sleeves rolled to the elbows, dark hair slicked back, tension carved deep into his broad shoulders. The moment he saw her, everything in his face broke. The cold, composed Yakuza Oyabun dissolved, and what remained was Kato, her friend.

“Adelina.”

He crossed the space between them in three long strides.

She opened her mouth to say something, maybe to apologize, maybe to collapse. But she didn’t have to. He wrapped his arms around her gently, like he was afraid she’d fall apart—and she nearly did. Her cheek pressed against his chest, warm and solid. Familiar.

“Shit,” he whispered. “You’re burning up.”

“I’ve had better nights,” she croaked with a ghost of a smile.

He pulled back, looking her over with a furrowed brow. “Come on. You’re still bleeding.”

Adelina let him lead her to the adjoining room—somewhere between a study and a clinic—and sat on the leather couch. Kato gathered supplies from a cabinet, working quickly and silently. He was never the type to ask questions and tonight he wouldn't start.

When he peeled back the hoodie and lifted her bloodstained shirt, she hissed but didn’t flinch. His touch was clinical, but tight set of his jaw told her that he wasn’t pleased with the state of her body.

“This doesn’t look too great,” he muttered, dabbing at the fresh wound. “I wish you had gotten here sooner. I tried to get to you during the fight. But your brother’s men—they forced me out before I could reach the west wing.”

Adelina looked away. Her throat burned.

“I know you did. If anyone would get me out of there, it’d be you.”

Kato’s hands stilled for a beat, and then his voice dropped.

“Akira didn’t make it.”

She stiffened. Her stomach twisted so hard she thought she might be sick. Akira—Kato's bodyguard. His closest friend. His shadow. The woman who once taught her how to disarm a pistol with one hand while eating with the other.

“Kato…” Her voice cracked. “I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t answer for a moment, just continued wrapping the gauze with steady fingers. When he did speak, it was low and even.

“You did what you had to. Akira knew what she was signing up for. And I don’t regret helping you. Or them.” His dark eyes lifted to hers, filled with sincerity. “Nick is Don now. Whatever his methods, he’s got a calculating mind. There’s a chance things could become stable again. The bloodshed might slow.”

Adelina dropped her gaze. “Nicolas ordered me to die.”

The silence hung thick in the air, oppressive and cold. Kato’s hands stilled entirely now. He let out a slow breath, and the faint flicker of optimism in his eyes extinguished. “I see.”

She nodded. “He said I’d be made an example. I guess killing Lu wasn’t enough.”

“He was always volatile,” Kato sighed out, his lips pulling into a frown. “But this…” He shook his head. “No one will come here, Adelina. Not from your family. They wouldn’t dare. You’re under my roof now.”

Her eyes widened. “Kato—”

“You’ll stay here,” he said firmly. “At least until you’re healed. After that, you’re free to do what you want. But until then, no one touches you. You’ll be safe within these walls. You have my word.”

The earnestness in his voice cracked something open in her chest. She’d been holding herself together with spit and wire, just barely stitched at the seams. But now, a thread loosened.

She leaned forward and hugged him again, tighter this time, burying her face into the crook of his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“You don’t have to thank me, Lina.” His voice was quiet, gentle in a way most people never heard from him. “You’re not alone anymore.”

Adelina closed her eyes and let herself breathe—for the first time since Luciano’s blood had spilled.

She was safe.

For now.