Prologue

Carmine Falcone's influence dropped like a rock into the dirty Gotham River when his loyalists found out his mind had been ravaged by whatever drugs Doctor Crane had filled him with. Holly assumed it was some terribly more potent dose of whatever the hell he'd suffocated her with. The thought Jonathan could have broken her like that was a little – well, a lot – unsettling. Regardless she had not seen the burlap-wearing menace after that night as he evaded Gotham's finest, even escaping Batman it would seem. The good doctor was a bit more criminally crafty than she gave him credit for.

It no longer mattered, she told herself over and over again until it truly did not matter to her. Her thoughts of the cosplay kink-lord doctor were fleeting in the face of her newfound freedom. Carmine was locked away in Arkham as planned and he'd be staying for a long while due to the chemical overdoses. What did she do first? The woman drank the good stuff until she passed out. Old habits. At least it was happy drinking, and her liver forgave her.

Holly Kingsley had slipped away from the underbelly of Gotham impart due to the events of what was labeled as 'Fear Night.' The woman took the chance to burn what was left of her paper trail within the Falcone family. Apologizing to August Haas's ghost the woman committed arson on the very warehouse she felt had been her home at one point. A little insurance fraud was all – and she promised that was going to be the last illegal thing she ever did. All the ledgers that held her name she could find went up in flames and she did not call the police until she was sure they were ashes.

She moved from the tiny city apartment into the old house that August left her, no longer fearful of the memories that lingered there. They no longer caused her pain. They were happy as they were supposed to be. It was her home. While the sight was registered as Historical and it was a pain to jump the hoops of the legal system she was able to begin restoration of the place to its utmost glory. She even obtained a normal, boring job at a tax firm.

Now her worst fear might be a mid-life crisis over avocado toast not being a balanced breakfast.

Too bad good things never seemed to last in Gotham. In the blink of an eye, it was ripped away from the woman. She'd glossed over one little important detail in the plan. That this was not just a gang. Holly had even been told that by Vincent those many years ago. The woman was so focused on only escaping from Carmine Falcone – she forgot about the man who might step in to fill his shoes.

Well. Fuck.

Holly had been hit over the head that evening returning to her home. The violent suddenness of it had her memory recalling having walked in through her front door, blackness, grogginess, then a blindfold being removed from her face and squinting into a cheap lamplight. She could say it was not the first time being kidnapped – though the first time had not been real, it was just Carmine playing a shitty prank. The woman coughed from her dry throat before speaking, "Good morning to you too." She was immediately slapped and no more words from her followed. They did not like sarcasm and were probably looking to beat her senseless – she'd not antagonize them any further. Holly was not even sure who they were at the present.

"Now, no need for that. Kingsley here is our guest of honor." Holly could not tell if she knew that voice or not, "I'm sorry for your poor accommodations but the boys are still upset at the Falcone's for a lot of things. Not that you took any part in them I am sure bookkeeper."

Oh, yeah, she knew this smug voice. Holly kept her head hung down from the slap, her eyes were having a better time not being blinded by the lamp either with them glued to the floor. She supposed her high had to end at some point, the dream of a normal life was being broken bit by bit the more he spoke.

"We're going to let bygones be bygones though, you see we're all comin' together as one big happy family," the word family in this context stung as it brought memories of that night she came under the employment of the mob, "aren't we boys? So, we're going to untie Miss Kingsley and have a nice chat like adults." He did not get his hands anywhere near her, it was his muscle that begrudgingly started to undo the bonds on her wrists from the chair in which she'd been sat.

Holly moved her head up finally, taking the wrist that hurt the most into one hand to give it a rub. There would be rope marks for days to come, "That's real nice of you, such a gentleman Maroni." She couldn't help the oozing sarcasm, this was just some sick joke the universe was playing on her.

"Please, we're gonna be family aren't we? Call me Sal." Salvatore Maroni, the very man that led the Falcone's top rival gang; there were a couple of others and they were to have certainly snatched up the pieces of Falcone's empire as it had begun to crumble, but they held not a candle to Maroni.

"Family?" Her eyes looked to the left, then to the right, in a clear display that she was looking around as if to find this family. She had no idea where she was as far as the building went. Her eyes flicked up to Salvatore full of sarcastic intentions, "Wow, I get a brother? I don't see Daddy Falcone though. He still raving mad about Scarecrows?" Holly was trying to provoke him.

"You know, all of the Falcone loyalists have been a real pain in my side during this transition," he scowled taking his hands from behind his back and giving her a sympathetic shrug, "but, you're not a loyalist, are you?"

She rose both brows with a face that asked him to continue his point.

"You know," he shooed one of the goons out of a chair to sit before her, "I still recall the young lady that walked into my lounge just to deliver me a shitpost," he obviously did not enjoy swearing by the way he mildly cringed at not having a better word to use, "letter from Carmine."

"Love you too Sal for not killing the delivery girl, but I don't owe you for that, so what's your point?"

"You were a young college student mysteriously employed by Vincent's steward and you took on the position through inheritance. You've been a part of this family for a long time. You were known as a bookie with a talent for money magic tricks."

"Thanks for the flattery," Holly nearly cut him off, "If you wanted your taxes done Salvatore you could have just asked, no kidnapping required, though I do charge ten percent for mobsters these days."

He stayed silent for longer than she liked, "All right. Have it your way, Kingsley." He held out his hand towards one of his muscle, "Gun please." Once the goon laid the pistol in his hand, Salvatore held it to the middle of her forehead. She could feel the cool metal of the barrel, "Think of it as one of two choices you now have."

"Work for you or get my talented little brain bits all over on you and your floor?"

"Help with the bookkeeping, that is all I am asking. We need that talent still. You're someone who does clean honest," he chuckled like the word itself was a joke, "work, and unlike Carmine, I won't have you running around performing various little tasks. I'll even pay you."

Holly rolled her eyes and with a dead stare, she leaned closer to the barrel, "Not interested. Shoot me."

It took Salvatore aback. He paused looking at her but a sly smile grew over his face, "Really," speaking in astonishment, "what a poker face you have." He laughed, "You win, I'm not going to shoot you," he spoke as he lifted the gun from her forehead pointing it into the air and waved it a bit, "I mean, blood on this suit would be awful. Imagine the stains… No. I'm going to burn down that home of yours, have all your co-workers, friends, family," he paused, "that driver you're fond of. They'll all find out how cruel Gotham City can really be, and you… I'll leave you to the absolute torture of the boys here. I know one of them has this weird fetish of killing folks in some gruesome ways then carving his own flesh but I'm sure you can just sarcasm your way through it." Salvatore only played games where he won.

Holly swallowed. Death itself had never frightened her, they were all mortal and death would always be waiting for them. It was the pain beforehand that was so illogically frightening. Thus, torture was another story. She'd seen what Vinny could do to a body making it a husk devoid of everything save wishing for death long before it wound up in a black bag. To make matters worse she had something she wanted. Losing it was troublesome – it made her want to live for it just recently too. That taste of what life should have been; the normality, she wanted that. Desperately needed it. The woman had sold her metaphorical soul once to the devil called Falcone and she did not want to sell it again after just getting it back. Holly's heart rate was rising in panic as she saw no other way this could end, she was not smart enough to escape it.

Maroni could be just as horrid as Carmine – and Holly had forgotten that during her grand vacation. He would follow through on his word.

"It's been a nice chat, Holly." He started to get up.

Her eyes lowered to the floor. Fuck! She internally screamed at herself, "Wait… I'll do it." She clasped her hands in her lap to stop them from trembling.

"See, talented and smart." Salvatore stood all the way and gave the woman a pat on the shoulder, "You'll start right after you recover, welcome back to the family." Holly did not see the motion Salvatore made to the men in the room.

Recover? It was her only thought. A heavy fist slammed into her ribs the next second, sending her to the floor where a foot finished the job of breaking them. He allowed the boys to rough her up not just for some twisted welcome back but to send a message: that he would not be told No again.