The Mafias Mistress

In a regular fairy tale, it all starts with “Once upon a time,” and then a princess gets rescued by a knight in shining armor.

However, my story diverges from the norm right from the start.

Now, let's go back to where it all began… Or at least the beginning that I remember.

I always felt like something was different between my family and me. Whether you call it a sixth sense or kismet, I had an unshakable knowing that there was more to my existence. From what I remember, we had a wonderful life filled with smiles, hugs, and kisses. Little did I know, there was a dark secret lurking behind the façade, ready to shatter our family and alter the course of my life forever.

My father was the Alpha of the Shadow Borne Pack—the most prestigious and well-respected pack in all of Shadow Falls. Although I never saw him as an Alpha, he was more than just my dad–he was my best friend and my protector.

By birth, my father held the status of an Alpha, whereas my mother's innate designation was that of an Omega. Among all the ranks in a pack, this one is considered the lowest. It is important to note that, unlike other packs, our pack does not engage in the cruel act of subjecting Omegas to slavery. My father was extremely strict when it came to that type of treatment. He ended alliances with other packs due to their enslavement of Omegas.

The only thing I remember about my childhood is my mother always forcing me to wear dresses and always styling my hair differently.

“A princess must always be well-dressed and poised,” she would say while brushing my hair. I look back now and laugh at how stupid I must have looked. 

The only makeup Mom ever wore was mascara and eyeliner; she didn't need makeup, if you asked me; she was a natural beauty. Her long black hair was always up in a low bun, leaving her ivory face untouched….

At five feet two, she was petite, but had just enough in the right areas that Dad couldn't keep his hands off.

Standing next to Dad's six-foot frame, Mom looked like a dwarf. His flawless tan skin looked great in any color, even though he always wore black or blue. He always combed his black hair neatly, and his bright-green eyes sparkled whenever he saw me.

Besides going to pack meetings, he devoted himself to training with the warriors, not letting his title as Alpha affect him. He always cautioned me, “Never allow your title to go to your head. Always remember where you came from.”

Despite going with my dad to train with the warriors, they never trained me. They were afraid of facing a reprimand if they caused me any injury.

Mom hated the fact that Father would train me. Training a child seemed unnecessary to her. “She is only five years old and a girl; she doesn't need to learn to fight,” she would tell father.