Hello darlings!

Here's another chapter for my mafia story...I think that I know what direction I want this to take.

As always, I don't own anything.


Italian proverb - "Moglie e buoi dei paesi tuoi"

"Marry a wife from your own people"

There are different reasons for going to a night club. A college student just finished their finals, and can't wait to let loose and embrace the term white-girl wasted, despite the tint of her skin. A mother of 3 finally got a night off and decided that her husband who's fucking his secretary can watch their kids for once in his pathetic parenthood. The guy currently making out with the strong, burly bartender about to start in a couple minutes wants to escape to a place where no one will judge him for being true to himself – true to the fact that he joins his football team when they make fun of that gay kid that he's desperately in love with. When you're in a club, everything's happening at once and it's so loud and bright and deep and…

From up above, three sets of eyes watch the crowd below. They watch the mass of bodies below them thrive under the flashing strobes and colored lights. Some of them drop down, bodies grinding and bucking towards each other to the loud music pounding through the speakers. Others surge up towards the ceilings; heads tilted back to lazy drunken smiles, hands reaching upwards, many angled towards the solid black glass where they pray those men are watching them. Watching the group of them throb and thrive like a single living organism, all fast and hard or slow and gripping, matching the music.

One set of eyes – big, blue, framed with thick black lashes that belonged on a baby – were amused, a broad grin spreading across his lips, bringing out the deep dimples – his most favored genetic deformity.

The second set were guarded, their blue bright and as cold as ice as he watched below, seemingly stripping every part of the organism bare and understanding each and every one of them, their wants, needs…what makes them tick.

The final set of eyes were narrowed – vicious slits of green jade that danced over the reaching hands, taking in every action below.

All three carried drinks in their hands that they sipped from casually, finishing them off in strong pulls and deep gulps. Big blue eyes sucked air in slowly, his large barrel chest swelling with his intake and sinking with a sigh as he tips his head back, his curls dancing softly against his cheeks and neck. The curls of a cherub graced his head, despite how he really was.

"Apparently," his voice drawled out, muffled by the glass raised to his lips, "We're doing it tonight."

A snort sounded from the blue eyed blond while he tapped the shining metal ring on his finger against his glass, the large burly one doing the same after him, creating a taunting jingle in the room.

The growl this caused was irritated and harsh, coming from the penny haired green eyed monster whose back was against the glass window separating them from below.

"I'm too fucking tired for this shit. Can't Edward find another way?", Penny hair grouched, his head tilting as he knocks the rest of his drink back and gets up, grabbing the heavy black duffle bag next to his desk.

Snorting, the dimpled one stands, followed by the ice king – both shaking their heads as they grab identical bags and follow their leader out the door. They all knew that they do whatever their father tells them without question.


Set deep in a hillside, surrounded with acres of thick trees leading up to well manicured flora and fauna sat the mansion of a very powerful family. Tall Victorian style gates both iron and stone encased the home, adding a layer of protection to what the guards dotting the perimeter could not watch over.

In the master bedroom, a large bed held Charles Swan, head of a family equally as powerful as the Cullen family, and his childhood sweetheart turned wife, Renee. Both encased in the silk of their pajamas, pillows and sheets didn't hear the muffled cries of their guards being taken out.

The men stationed in the house noticed the lack of response from the men outside, but by then it was too late since the figures covered in dark clothing had also made their way inside and started picking them off.

The only one who actually knew anything was Isabella – Isabella Maria Swan, heir to the Swan family name and power. While standing in the darkness of her room, she noticed one of the guards drop to the floor while looking out of her window. In the slight moonlight available she saw a large figure breach the door to the home, allowing the others to follow in closely. Isabella was far from useless – as Charlie Swan's only child and heir, he refused to let her have a future that depended on her marrying someone who knew the business. Why waste such good genes, and aptitude?

Isabella snuck out of her room, catching the heavy door before it slammed shut and crept her way down the vast hallway to her parents' wing. She kept to the carpet, knowing it would muffle her steps, and avoided all the weak spots in the floor of her childhood home, eliminating all possible creaks. When she got to the vast stairwell, she peaked over the landing, hearing muffled voices talking and when the coast was clear she crawled her way across, keeping low and quiet until finally she made it to their room.

She cursed how heavy both of her parents slept, in the certain event of an attack on their family, trying to wake them both up was nearly impossible when trying to avoid attracting attention. Still, she shook and shook, muffling their mouths with her hands until both parents woke up, her mother with a muffled scream and her father quietly and quickly sitting up with a knife gripped in his hand raised.

Isabella frantically tightens her grip over their mouths, her head tilting back towards the door, her voice softly carrying in the darkness.

"There are 8 – they're inside, searching the bottom floor. All black, none of our men have survived that I know of. We need to go."

Her mother – god bless her soul – was never meant for moments like this. Her creative, loving spirit was meant for lying in fields of flowers and doting on babies and painting for hours but getting most of the colors on herself. She was falling apart, glistening crocodile tears rolling down her smooth cheeks as both of her hands replaced her daughters to muffle her sounds. Her father, the strong man that he is was containing the fear he felt, and right when he was about to reply, the door to their bedroom burst open and three men spilled into the room. He did what he had time to do – grabbed his daughter and threw her over the side of the bed, hopefully before the men that burst in saw his pride and joy.

Isabella hit the thick carpet beside her parents' bed with a hiss and barely wasting a second, rolled under their bed and waited. She heard the clicks of guns, and when her mother's hands could no longer block her cries, the high wails sounding as she begged them to just leave and leave her family alone. She heard the three men discussing orders, before two sets of boots went on either side of the bed. She held her breath as her parents were dragged out of their beds and thrown to the floor. Her father stared forward, angrily as his hands were hoisted behind him and zip tied to the point of pain. Her mother – soft thing that she was - screamed through her tears and turned her head so that she could get one last look at her baby just in case she didn't survive. Isabella kept her eyes trained on her mothers, her face carefully blank, despite the wide, expressive eyes set in them.

A deep voice interrupted her mother "Mrs. Swan – I know this is a really shitty night for you, but could you please stop screaming. I need to find your daughter, and you're like a personal alarm system". He sighed, and after some rustling and a muffled curse, he spoke to the other two, "Em, take them downstairs with James, he's right outside. Jas, stay with me."

Silence followed, and it seemed like minutes were going by as a second set of boots trailed by her and headed to the door to her parents' bathroom, presumably to look for her. Watching that pair distracted her, and she didn't notice the hands reaching her until they closed around her ankles and she was dragged out from under the bed, an angered screech leaving her throat. Lights flicked on, and she saw bright, coppery hair and a set of green eyes set in a face far too beautiful for words. That being said, she planned on breaking that gorgeous jaw of his.

"Well if it isn't the little principessa", green eyes crooned at her, releasing his grip on her ankles as he grinned over at the also stunning blond by the light switch.

Charles didn't raise her to be an idiot – Isabella knew the Cullen family, and knew that these were two of the sons. More importantly, she knew that Green Eyes was the successor, just like she was. She stayed silent, eyes dancing between both figures in between glancing around for a way to get out. The blond- Jasper – had the bathroom and the two windows that lead to a canopy covered. Edward had the door to the hallway covered, and the drop from any other windows would lead to either injuries that would make fleeing impossible, or death.

Her breaths were starting to heave, and she forced herself to calm down, lowering her heartbeat even as an angered flush stained her cheeks as she glared at the two men.

"Alright little girl, just come with us quickly, there's no reason to panic", he grinned cockily, reaching for her.

Isabella stepped back quickly, her body tilting to keep his hands off of her, a low, "Don't fucking touch me" leaving her lips.

Edwards eyebrows lifted up, both at the language from the girl and the defiance. Checking his watch, he let out a long – suffering sigh and glanced at Jasper. They both knew that they didn't have time for a high spirited little girl to mess with them, and in a final decision, he rushed forward to grab her, missing her fist flying towards his face until the last moment. Before he knew it, he heard a crunch as her fist connected with his face and Edward's momentum made him fly to the side, stumbling to catch himself.

Isabella had no fear of what would happen to her after that. Everyone underestimated her, and she understood that – she was quite small after all. She would be damned if they thought they could touch her. She watched Edward right himself, hand cupping the side of his jaw and glaring at the snort that came from Jasper.

"Okay, you're allowed a freebie I guess since I am kidnapping you. No more though, capiche?"

He started forward, ready for the slap she was sending his way, but not ready for her to shift her weight to the side and bring her other fist down on the same spot as before, hitting it again with lethal precision. He was dazed – from how something so small could hit so hard, and how precise that hit was.

Jasper rushed over, and it took both of them to subdue the kicking, flailing, cursing woman between them – both ending up with a combination of quickly forming bruises, and scrapes.

She was fucking wild.

Hauling her over his shoulder, Edward ran out of the room, quickly followed by Jasper and both of them made their way down the stairs, a low whistle leaving him and two men followed out of what he assumed was Isabella's room, and they all filed out of the grand front door, chosen by Renee Swan when Charles asked her to help him build their dream home.

Edward felt Isabella kick and squirm, teeth scraping along him to try to find something sensitive to bite into and he hitched his shoulder up, slamming it into her gut to knock the air out of her.

Isabella arched and wheezed over his shoulder, her head tilting to look around for help, but seeing men pour clear, noxious smelling liquid all over her home. The floors, windows, pathways and plants were all being fed a healthy dose of accelerant, and with a pained cry she watched as a fire was lit and she watched the flames lick up the walls of her childhood home. She stilled enough for Edward to get a good grip on her and not so carefully drop her into the back of a car, where her parents were bundled up and laying face down in the back. Neither were moving, but both were breathing, and she could do nothing with her bound hands and legs when she saw Edward advance on her with a needle, Jasper and the large man who must have been the first she had seen reach out to hold her down as she kicked at Edward, who shoved a needle in her thigh, before she was consumed by darkness.


Isabella could barely open her eyes. She felt groggy – she couldn't orient herself and everything she heard was muffled and she felt like she could float. This is the exact reason why she never took pain medicine, and loathed being sick – she was weakened and couldn't figure out what to do.

A panicked female voice was mumbling somewhere to her right, and an angry, male voice was muffled to her left. The loud, solid click of a gun sounded somewhere in front of her, and before she knew it, a gunshot sounded, shocking her into sober awareness and the muffled, high panicking to her right cut off suddenly. Isabella watched while her mother dropped to the floor to her right, and before she could look for her father, she heard an identical, yet heavier thud to her left. She looked up, and saw a pair of green eyes that should be familiar, but they weren't – they were dull, and their pupils were blown out and everything about them looked tired and red.

Edward Senior was the head of the Cullen family – he was vicious, and most followed him out of fear. The family used to be good; many of the old timers swear that it did – but when Edward took over, beatings became regular and deaths more frequent. Despite what they wanted, many of his men either became the thugs that he needed, or died under the excuse that they were not loyal to the family, and betrayed them.

Four of his thugs were in the room, but The Three were nowhere to be seen. Isabella's eyes looked around at the faces; all showing a mixture of angry frowns that they were expected to have, and shock at the lack of reaction from the principessa. Isabella snorted – she knew that they expected screaming, crying, panicked begging, and possibly a breakdown. They were met with a blank face except for an arched eyebrow that they were all on the receiving end of, until she turned and looked up at Edward Senior.

Her breaths remained steady, even as she thought of exactly how she was going to kill him and rip those dull eyes of his from his head – a talent learned from her father. She stewed in her anger, knowing that somehow she would have to survive long enough to be in a position to kill him, and her eyes stalked him as he walked backwards to lean on his desk.

A sick, too – wide smile spread across his disgustingly yellow teeth, and he started to speak, "Isabella Swan, my haven't you grown up". He chuckled, eyes raking down her tank top and short-clad self.

She stayed silent, her face wrinkling in a sneer as her answer to him, which sadly didn't hinder him from speaking more.

"You must be wondering why – why now, why both parents why, why, why" Another laugh left him and his hands clapped together, "I was tired! Tired of your father, tired of people saying he was better, saying he was number one, and betraying me to go to him! I was fucking tired of it!" Spit flew out of his mouth, landing directly by her fathers' head, like he was giving her the kindness of not spitting directly on him.

She would cut his tongue out, too.

"But now- now he's gone, and you're mine. All that power given to a little bitch, but my plan is – you're going to love this"

She would love if he would shut the fuck up.

"You're going to marry my son."

"The fuck I will!"- it came out before Isabella could stop it, and one of the thugs wrapped their disgusting hand around her mouth, only to pull it back with a surprisingly high shriek when her teeth bit clean through his skin with no hesitance. Spitting out the taste of his blood, Isabella looked up into Edward Seniors eyes and was not surprised by the disgusted sneer he sent her before he ordered his men to take her to her room and lock her in there.

She struggled between them, and his voice floated down the hallway to her as they carried her out, "You have no one to run to Principessa, your people are mine and you'll be the little bitch of a daughter in law that I need to birth more Cullen's, your family is mine!"


So here we go! I'm trying to decide if I should right as I go, or write it all and release it once a week...

Please review with thoughts, comments, etc!

Also, I apologize for any mistakes... I'll work on them!