the rebel

FRANCESCA

I’m holding my husband’s hand tighter than usual.

“I didn’t realize you were bringing my daughter along,” my father says, his eyes lighting up as he looks at my husband. Then his gaze shifts to me and his expression changes. I don’t like it one bit.

I know he wouldn’t dare touch me inappropriately—he’s not that kind of monster—but he wouldn’t mind seeing me in pain either. He enjoys the fear and discomfort in my eyes.

My husband’s face remains impassive as he watches my father. “She’s been good,” he finally says, giving my father a curt nod.

I’ve never thought of my husband as someone capable of showing much emotion.

“If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve prepared something, Don.”

Honestly, it feels good to see my father trying to impress my husband. I feel superior, even though I know that’s far from the truth. But a girl can dream, right?

My husband releases my hand and I can tell from the look he gives me that he wants me to leave. I know that men don’t involve their women in business. The sexism is palpable, but I prefer it that way.

I don’t want to be any more involved in the Family’s sins than I already am. I’d rather leave the dirty work to Antonio and the other men, or whoever else wants to commit crimes.

I quickly make my exit. I don’t miss the approving look my father gives me for following orders. He doesn’t hate me, I know that. Or at least, I think he doesn’t.

He’s always favored me over my mother and sister, but I know it’s only to keep me perfect for my husband. To make me a pretty doll for him to torture and break—both mentally and physically.

But I’m already emotionally broken and I’ve accepted my fate.

A bodyguard follows me as I lift my dress slightly and hurry upstairs. My heels click loudly against the wooden stairs and I wince. I prefer to stay in the shadows.

I don’t pay much attention to my new watchdog. I’m not doing anything wrong, so he doesn’t need to report to my husband.

Everything looks the same. The walls are white and the furniture is mostly wooden and blue. A smile spreads across my face when I see my sister’s room. Her door is closed, and I’m sure it’s locked.

She’s always been one to defy orders, and I know she pays for it every time. But Arianna is smart and manipulative.

To anyone who doesn’t know her, she seems like the perfect woman with her long, dirty blonde hair and pretty hazel eyes like mine. But aside from our eyes and pouty lips, we look nothing alike.

I knock softly on her door, afraid I might wake her. But I know she’d be upset if I left without seeing her. She’s always been a bit dramatic.

“What?” she snaps, but doesn’t open the door. I know it’ll take her a moment to realize who it is, but when she does, she practically throws the door open. It slams against the wall.

“Franci!” she screams.

We have a secret knock that only the two of us understand. It’s a soft knock twice because everyone else in the house either doesn’t bother knocking or bangs on the doors like their lives depend on it.

Sometimes, their lives do depend on it, but not when it comes to our doors.

She pulls me into a hug, and I hug her back. I feel like she might disappear, even though it’s only been a week. Arianna and I are as close as two sisters can be in the Mafia.

Despite the five-year age gap, we’re like best friends.

“Come inside!” she yells, then glares at my bodyguard. “You! Stay out!”

I’m shocked. How can she talk to a man like that? What if he hurts her? Even my guard looks surprised before he steps forward in anger.

I quickly push Arianna into her room and lock the door. He bangs on it from the other side before thinking better of it.

“What were you thinking, Anna?” I snap, turning to face her.

She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, giving me a look that says she thinks I’m a coward. I’m not a coward. I’m just trying to survive.

“Don’t give me that look. Do you have any idea how much trouble I could get in because of this?” I tug at my hair in frustration.

The pain reminds me of my husband. He has a thing for my hair.

She huffs and flops onto her queen-sized bed, sprawling out. “I’m sorry. I just hate it when they think they can boss us around because we’re women.

“I hate that they forget that without us, there’d be no them.”

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but in this world, men rule and we women have to suck up to them to stay alive. They won’t understand your logic.”

She glares at me as I sit beside her. “Wow. Breaking news. I had no idea.” She moves her hands behind her head.

“Wait… What brings you here? How did your husband let you come here? Did you see what was happening downstairs?”

“Whoa, slow down, tiger! What’s happening downstairs?” I ask.

She looks at me as if she’s said something she shouldn’t have. “First you tell me why you’re here.”

I sigh. Little sisters can be so annoying sometimes. “I don’t know.” She raises an eyebrow.

I roll my eyes again. “I’m serious. The Don didn’t tell me why he brought me here. I think he had business with Father but I don’t care. I’m just glad that I got to see you. Where is Mother?”

Her eyes fill with sadness and I instantly know something is wrong. She props herself up on her elbows and looks around as if to make sure no one is listening. I sit up too, instantly on alert.

Her room is a paradox of messy and tidy. The purple curtains are drawn shut, and the rug on her cherry wood floor is in disarray, but thankfully, it’s stain-free.

Her room is spacious, but not as large as mine or Father’s. Personally, I prefer this room. It gives me a sense of freedom, even though I’m far from it.

The room is empty, so why is she so anxious?

“What’s wrong?” I ask again.

She lets out a sigh. “I tried to escape. Father took his anger out on Mother,” she confesses, avoiding my gaze.

I can’t suppress my gasp, which sounds more like a screech. “What the f—!” I cut myself off. Swearing would make me a bad woman, lacking character.

“Why would you try to escape? You knew Father would kill Mother if you did! And why hasn’t he killed you yet?” I blurt out.

Tears well up in her eyes and I instantly regret my words. It’s not her fault, but it is. Almost every woman yearns for freedom. I gave up on that dream long ago and I had hoped Arianna would too.

Death is easy, but it would ruin many lives and the authorities are useless. They won’t or can’t protect us.

“I can’t stay here, Franci!” she cries, tears streaming down her cheeks. Arianna isn’t one to show emotions unless she’s caught off guard.

“They’re marrying me off to Scream. He’s a known serial killer! I can’t ruin my life like that.”

I cup her face in my hands, wiping away her tears from her tan cheeks. “Arianna, Father would kill Mother if you ran away. He’d blame her! It’ll make everything worse.

“You have to understand, there’s no way out, Anna. We didn’t choose this life, but we have to live it. At least we aren’t on the streets.”

She just stares at me as if I’m the one who’s lost her mind. “Being on the streets would be so much better.” I don’t agree with that. Being on the streets or being a sex slave in the Mafia, especially for a woman, is even worse.

“I knew I would sound selfish to you,” she continues. “But Mother has already lived her life and I think me running away would persuade her to do the same or kill herself.

“I can’t stay here and watch Mother get gang-raped in front of me every time and not do anything. Dying is better.”

I shake my head but I know it’s pointless. She’s right but I don’t want to lose her, as selfish as that sounds. “You already got caught once—why hasn’t Father taught you a lesson yet?”

She snorts before lifting her shirt to reveal her rib cage, where I see large bruises. My eyes widen in surprise. “That’s it. Thank God.”

“That’s because he decided to marry me off as soon as possible. Maybe that’s why he called the Don. I heard Scream’s a big guy around here and he’s supposed to punish me after.”

I look at her skeptically. “How do you know?”

“People talk.” She shrugs before leaning in closer and whispering, “I’m going to tell you a secret. You pinky promise not to tell anyone?”

“Pinky promise. What?” I can’t imagine anything more absurd than her escape attempt.

I’m wrong.

Arianna giggles. “I’m going to run away again.” I open my mouth to tell her how stupid she’s being before she shushes me. I glare at her. “Don’t you dare tell anyone. It’s a sacred pinky promise.”

I shake my head as if it’s on fire. “You’re going to get us both killed. I can’t lie to the Don,” I protest.

She shushes me again. “Gosh, do you want to tell the whole world? And you won’t be lying to the mighty boss. You’d just be hiding something he has no business knowing.

“How does he treat you anyway? I’m guessing better than Father treats Mother since you’re still walking.”

I open my mouth to complain about him before shutting it again. It feels like I’m sharing private moments that I want to cherish. They make me feel normal. “He’s okay,” I finally say.

“Right…” she drawls. “By the way, I don’t like him. He’s a criminal.”

“We’re all criminals.”

“No, we’re the victims,” she counters instantly.

“No…,” I begin. “I’m a sinner because I know I would never give him away even if I had the chance. I know I’d never betray the Family.”

My sister looks at me with pity as if she’s just realizing who she’s talking to. “You’re too loyal for your own good, Franci, and that’s what makes you naive. It’s a good and bad thing.

“Good because I know I can trust you and bad because, well, it makes you vulnerable.”

“I’m not weak.” That comes out harsher than I intended.

She chuckles. “Sometimes the people that are the strongest are the weakest at heart, and the weakest are the strongest. I don’t know the Don, but I know the rumors and you’re very strong for putting up with him.

“You haven’t given up yet, and I can see that as clear as day in your eyes. You haven’t lost hope in him yet and that’s a very bad thing.”

I don’t respond to her. I don’t have to because a knock sounds on the door. For once, I’m grateful for the interruption. I don’t know what to say to her.

“Yes?” I call out. I recognize the gruff voice of my bodyguard.

“The Don wants to see you.”