Queen of Shadows

Alessandra Russo stood in front of the grand windows of the Russo mansion, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the marble floor. The empire her father built felt distant now, like a kingdom fading into history. Her world, once vibrant with power and control, was slowly being stripped away. The mansion, once teeming with activity, now felt like a hollow shell. She had always known this day would come, but not like this.

Her father, Giovanni Russo, was the king of New York's criminal underworld. A man whose name alone commanded respect and fear in equal measure. Growing up, Alessa was taught that strength was everything. She had learned how to navigate the dangerous waters of their world, never letting her guard down, always preparing for the inevitable day when she would take her place at her father's side. But now, that future seemed to have slipped through her fingers like smoke.

She turned away from the window and looked at the long table in the centre of the room. Her father had held countless meetings there, guiding the family through war and peace. Her fingers trailed along the polished wood as she remembered sitting in on those meetings, learning, listening, and preparing to be the one who would one day sit at the head of the table.

But now, someone else sat there.

Her uncle, Enzo Russo, lounged in the chair that once belonged to her father. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the table as he spoke with one of the family's advisors. Alessa watched him carefully, her jaw clenched. It hadn't taken long for him to insert himself into her father's place, taking over meetings and decisions as though he had been waiting for this moment his entire life.

She should be the one leading the family now. Giovanni had always wanted her to take over when the time came, despite what tradition said about women in power. He had trained her for this moment. But the men in the family, those who had claimed loyalty to her father, seemed to forget her existence as soon as the casket was closed. Enzo had swooped in, and with him, the murmurs began: A woman can't lead the family. A woman can't be trusted with power.

Alessa gripped the back of a chair, her knuckles turning white. She was no longer the heir to the Russo empire. She was no longer anyone. Not to them. But they would see. They would all see.

"Alessandra," Enzo's voice snapped her from her thoughts. His eyes flickered with something that looked almost like pity, but there was a glint of something else-something colder, so cold it almost made her shiver. "We need to discuss the future of this family."

She swallowed the bitterness rising in her throat. "The family's future? I thought that had already been decided."

Enzo leaned back, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You're right Alessandra. It has. And it is time you understood your place in it."

Her heart pounded, but she kept her face impassive. She had learned long ago never to show emotion in front of men like Enzo. Weakness was something they preyed upon.

"The council has decided," Enzo continued, his voice smooth like silk, "that it's in the family's best interest to form an alliance. A marriage, to be precise."

Alessa's blood ran cold. She hadn't expected this. Not yet. "A marriage?"

"Yes. You'll marry Luca DeLuca. The wedding will secure an alliance between our families and ensure the stability of our position in New York." His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he delivered the final blow. "It's what your father would have wanted."

Alessa's breath caught in her chest. *What my father would have wanted?* Her father had never spoken of marrying her off like a bargaining chip. He had raised her to lead, not to be someone else's possession. But in a room filled with men who never believed in her to begin with, there was no one left to fight for her.

Except her.

Her voice was tight when she spoke. "And I didn't get a say in this?"

Enzo's smile widened. "You're part of the family, Alessa. You'll do what's necessary for the good of all of us."

Her stomach churned, but she kept her eyes locked on his. "Of course," she said through gritted teeth, her mind already racing. They thought this would break her, that they could control her. But they were wrong.

She would marry Luca DeLuca. She would play the part they assigned her. But she wouldn't be silent. She wouldn't be their pawn.

In the end, they would all regret underestimating Alessandra Russo.

Alessa excused herself from the room, feeling her uncle's gaze follow her as she left. She had no doubt that every move she made from now on would be scrutinized. Her heart pounded in her chest as she made her way to the sanctuary of her father's office-the one place that still felt like hers.

The office was dimly lit, the thick drapes drawn across the windows, casting the room in shadows. She shut the door behind her and leaned against it, breathing deeply, trying to calm the storm raging inside her. This room, filled with the scent of leather and old books, was the closest she could get to her father now. His presence lingered here, in the carefully organized ledgers, the weapons hidden in the drawer, the photograph of the two of them on the desk, taken years ago before everything started to unravel.

She crossed the room and picked up the photograph, her fingers brushing over the frame. It was a simple picture-her father, stern but proud, his arm draped over her shoulders. She had been his pride, his hope for the future. He had never treated her like she was less because she was a woman. He had seen her potential, trained her in ways that most men in their world would never allow for their daughters. But none of that seemed to matter now.

Her grip on the photograph tightened. "I'm sorry, Papa," she whispered. "I won't let them take everything."

But the truth was, she had no idea how to stop it. She had no allies left. The men who had once been loyal to her father were now falling in line behind Enzo. And Luca DeLuca-he was another monster entirely. Known for his ruthlessness, Luca was not the kind of man who could be easily manipulated. If anything, it would be the other way around.

The very thought of marrying him felt like an unjust death sentence.

She paced the room, her mind racing. There had to be a way to take back control. Her father had always told her that power wasn't just in brute strength-it was in knowledge, in alliances, in knowing when to strike. Her uncle thought he had won, but Alessa still had something left. She had her father's teachings, and she had her own ambition.

The door creaked open, and her body tensed. She turned to see her father's old bodyguard, Marco, standing in the doorway. His face was lined with age, his dark eyes solemn. He had been with the family for decades, loyal to her father until the end.

"Marco," she said, her voice steady. "What do you know about this alliance?"

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "Enough to know it's not just about the family's future. It's about keeping you out of power."

Alessa clenched her fists. "I figured as much. And Luca?"

Marco's expression darkened. "He's very dangerous. Luca isn't someone who makes alliances for the sake of tradition or stability. He only does it for control. If he marries you, you'll have no say in anything. The DeLucas have always wanted a foothold in New York, and this marriage gives them exactly that."

Alessa turned away, her mind spinning. This wasn't just a marriage of convenience; it was a calculated move to strip her of what little power she had left.

"I won't let them do this," she whispered, more to herself than to Marco. "I won't let them reduce me to nothing."

Marco stepped closer, his voice low. "There are still people loyal to your father. Quiet ones, but loyal. We can start there. Build something, gather information, make our own alliances. But it won't be easy, Alessa."

Alessa turned to face him, her eyes cold and determined. "Nothing worth having ever is."

Alessa stood in front of the window again, watching the sky darken as night settled over the city that should have been hers to control. She had no idea how long it would take her or what she would have to sacrifice, but she knew one thing for certain.

She would take back her family's empire no matter what, she would reclaim what was rightfully hers. And when she did, the men who had tried to take it from her in the first place would regret the day they ever crossed Alessandra Russo.