My Time To Rule
My Time To Rule
Carolina Rossi’s head throbbed as consciousness slowly returned. The first thing she registered was the tight, unyielding pull of ropes around her wrists and ankles. She was bound to a sturdy wooden chair in the center of a bare room she did not recognize.
A single light bulb hung from the ceiling, casting a harsh yellow circle of light that left the corners in shadow. The floor beneath her feet was cold. She tested the ropes once, found no give, and raised her voice.
“Is anyone there? What the fuck is going on?”
A familiar voice answered from the shadows near the door—one she had never expected to hear again in this life.
“I'm here. Although, I'm pretty sure you didn't expect me to be. You’re lucky to still be alive.”
Gabriella stepped into the light and stopped directly in front of her mother. She looked composed, almost calm, dressed in dark clothes that still carried the faint scent of the outside night. Carolina stared, the shock plain and unguarded on her face.
“This is impossible,” Carolina said. Her voice was rough from disuse and the blow to her head. “You were shot twice in the chest. I received the reports. I was told you were dead.”
“Perhaps it wasn’t my time yet,” Gabriella answered evenly. “The universe decided to spare me. Or maybe I’m simply harder to kill than you thought.”
She pulled a second chair from the wall, the legs scraping softly across the concrete, and sat facing her mother at close range. Their knees nearly touched. “Hello, Mother. I would say it's good to see you again, except it isn't.”
Carolina recovered enough to let out a short, bitter laugh that held no real humor. “How did you manage to steal the loyalty of my Knights? Those men were sworn to me.”
“I didn’t steal anything,” Gabriella said. “They came to me. They asked to serve me—by removing you as Capo and placing me in the seat instead. They were finished with the way you ran things. The trafficking. The unnecessary blood. The way you treated your own bloodline, and the final nail on the coffin was when you asked them to kill me, knowing fully well that I was the only heir of my father's clan.”
Carolina’s eyes narrowed. The ropes creaked as she shifted slightly in the chair. “You’re a fool if you trust them. The same way they betrayed me, they will betray you the moment it serves their interests better. Knights exist for power and survival, not loyalty.”
“I already know they have their own motives,” Gabriella replied without flinching. “I’m not naïve. I’ll deal with that when the time comes. First, they'll help me bring you down. After that, I decide what happens to them.”
Carolina held her daughter’s gaze for a long moment, searching for any crack in the calm. “What now, then? You have me tied to a chair in some hole. What’s the next move in this little rebellion?”
“You’ll be taken back to the Rossi estate,” Gabriella said. “You’ll be made an example of, in front of every single member of the King’s Gold. They will see the old order end with their own eyes. After that, I will take your place.”
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.
.
Just outside the room, the air was cooler. Andre stood with several of his men, the low murmur of their quiet conversation the only sound. Lancelot and the rest of the Knights waited a short distance away, weapons still close at hand. The night smelled of damp pavement and distant traffic.
Lancelot turned toward Andre. “I hope there are no hard feelings about the last time we met—when we crashed your wedding.”
Andre’s expression remained flat, though something colder moved behind his eyes. “I’ve already forgotten about that.”
He glanced toward the closed door where Gabriella and her mother were speaking. “What I don’t like is that she’s still breathing. Why not end it here and now? Gabriella could take the clan tonight without the risk of a public spectacle.”
Lancelot shook his head once. “The removal of the Queen has to be public. If it isn’t, Gabriella will never win the full respect and loyalty of the King’s Gold soldiers. They need to see the transfer of power with their own eyes. Anything less leaves room for doubt and future challenges. We’ve already discussed this.”
Andre said nothing more, but the dissatisfaction remained visible in the set of his jaw. He had had his experiences with Carolina Rossi and more than anything, he wanted to see her dead. However, it was quite yet time for that. She would remain alive for a while longer.
The door opened. Gabriella stepped out into the night air, her face calm and decided. She looked straight at Lancelot and spoke with quiet authority.
“Get ready. It’s time for me to rule.”
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.
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Across the city, Chief Silas sat alone in the house he had once shared with Lucy’s mother. The only light came from a small lamp on the side table, casting a warm but limited circle across the couch and the scattered photographs in his lap. Lucy as a baby. Lucy as a gap-toothed child. Lucy in her first school uniform, smiling at the camera. Tears ran freely down his face and dropped onto the old paper.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to the empty room. “I couldn’t protect you. I failed.”
Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Silas wiped his face roughly with the back of his hand, stood, and walked to the door with the caution of a man who no longer trusted the world. No one knew he was there and he wasn't expecting anyone, so who could be ringing the doorbell? He opened it and froze.
Lucy stood on the threshold. Tired, a little pale, clothes plain and practical, but unmistakably alive and real.
"Hi, Dad!"
He didn’t wait for an explanation. He pulled her into a hard, desperate embrace. She held him just as tightly, her arms locking around his back as if neither of them intended to let go.