Heart of Their City (A Why Choose Mafia Romance)

Hi! Thank you for picking up my book.

I hope the warnings didn't scare you off. While this book does explore dark themes, the relationships between the characters aren't meant to be dark.

And while I do believe every good romance deserves some smut, I'm not forcing those scenes until the characters are ready for them.

If you're into slow burn, real connections, heavy plot, and men who aren't toxic, this book might be for you.

I'm posting at least three times a week, but I'm also the kind of person who asks if people want their birthday gifts early because I can't wait to make them happy.

Love you all.

Lauren ♡

Charlotte. Age 16

I was in Greece, on a beach with my Mum. A seagull shrieked above us, swooping down before lifting back into the sky. I could hear the water, smell the salt, and feel the hot sun against my skin.

Chains rattled beside me.

I squeezed my eyes shut, desperate to hold onto the memory. The soft towel beneath me. The warmth. My mum’s laughter. The happiness I felt.

But the memory was cut short at the sound of someone sobbing. I knew it was the new girl without opening my eyes. The rest of us had forgotten how to cry.

Footsteps echoed through the basement. The new girl gasped and choked on her sobs as she tried to silence herself. Oh no. She was going to get us all in trouble again.

Panicked, I reached for the beach again. Beach. Go back to the beach. Back to my mum and the shimmering sea. But it was hard to hold onto it as the footsteps grew louder. Closer. Someone was coming here. Why? Why couldn’t they just leave us alone?

The guard’s keys rattled, a sound so painfully familiar it made my stomach turn. We were all broken, and one of us was about to be even more.

Don’t think about it, think about the beach, I ordered myself. Reality disappeared as the beach reappeared in my mind. Only, this time I didn’t picture myself suntanning on the towel. I warped the memory, forcing myself to my feet to run toward the water. I sank myself into the abyss. Opened my mouth. Dragged water into my lungs on purpose.

Click. The keys slid into the lock, and I was ripped out of the memory again.

No. No, no, no, no, no. Please.

Beach, I thought. The image flickered in my mind. Beach! But I was in the cell. Beach. Beach. Beach. Beach. Beach. Beach. Beach. Beach. It didn’t work. I was still in that damn cell.

Fear made me stupid. Desperate. I knew I couldn’t escape, so I tried to twist the memories into something else. If I could drown there, maybe my mind would forget where I really was. Maybe if I thought about dying hard enough, my body would follow.

A light touch brushed against my hand.

It was gentle, but I still flinched. Had the guard touched me? Had I missed him coming in?

No. This touch was too gentle.

My eyes opened slowly. One barely worked through the swelling around the bruise.

Christine.

She kneaded my hand with her thin fingers, offering comfort I didn’t deserve. She was shackled and broken like the rest of us, her hazel eyes were unfocused on the one part of the wall where empty chains hung waiting. A place I knew would be filled soon.

Guilt twisted my chest. Christine was comforting me even though I hadn’t done the same for her.

When we woke up here, I thought obedience meant survival. Christine had known better from the start. She had come awake like fire, screaming the moment she opened her eyes. She fought. Kicked. Bit.

She hadn’t stopped when the guards hit her back. Hadn’t stopped when they punished the rest of us.

And me, the idiot I was, had begged her to stop. I had screamed hateful words at her, words I had come to regret because it hadn’t taken long to learn that staying alive wasn’t the goal here. Christine fought because she knew what was coming, and because death felt like mercy.

With trembling fingers, I laced mine through hers and gave her hand a weak squeeze. I’m so sorry, I thought. She didn’t react.

Suddenly, sirens wailed somewhere above us.

I didn’t move. I didn’t have the energy, and I didn’t believe in them anyway because I had heard sirens before. Dozens of times that first week. Every time, I had waited for rescue. Every time, no one came. My mind had learned how to lie to me.

But then the keys made a strange sound, as if they’d been left to swing against the bars. A second later, the guard’s footsteps turned away.

Was he running?

I didn’t let myself hope. I glanced at the other girls anyway.

None of them reacted.

I had imagined it again.

I let my head fall back against the concrete with disappointment, wincing when it struck the bruise at the base of my skull.

Dear God, just let me die. Just give me something sharp enough and I’ll do the rest.

I repeated it over and over. To God. To gods. To anyone listening.

Because someone had to hear me, right? Someone had to feel my pain. My panic. I refused to believe there were people out there, living their lives, oblivious to me and my silent pleas.

Then shouting erupted above us. Angry. Panicked.

Gunshots.

My eyes snapped open.

I didn’t hear Christine stand, but she was already on her feet. Smiling. Then a sharp laugh burst out of her. Then more. Chains rattled as her whole body shook with it.

It was wild and sharp and wrong, echoing through the cell like madness. Like she had been waiting for this exact moment.

Flashlights flooded the hallway outside the cell, and men in tactical gear stormed in, led by two women.

A sharp laugh scraped out of me at the sight. Cruel. So fucking cruel. As if life itself wasn’t cruel enough, now my mind had to invent the one thing I wanted most.

I hated it. Hated my mind.

Anger rolled through me, hot enough to boil my blood, until white spots swallowed my vision.

Then the world went black.