Claiming the Bloody Throne: The Mafia Heiress’ Return

AURORA

My heart pounded as bullets tore through the air, shattering the calm of the day. Vince fired back, his movements swift and calculated, each shot finding its mark.

Adrenaline surged through me as I reached for the small pistol Gabriel had handed me earlier. My hands shook, but I forced myself to aim and fire, the kickback jolting my arm.

“Stay close!” Vince growled, his voice cutting through the chaos.

As the last masked man fell, Vince grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the waiting car.

“This is just the beginning,” he muttered, his voice grim. “Our foes are making their move.”

I climbed into the car, my pulse racing. For the first time, the weight of what I’d just done—what I’d become—hit me.

Camila Alvarez was now dead.

In her place stood Mrs. Aurora Herrera-Donovan, and the war for the Herrera empire had just begun.

“Do you think Matteo knows I’m back?” I asked Vince, my voice low, trying to steady the gnawing anxiety in my chest.

“Not yet,” he replied, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “But let’s not get comfortable. Something feels off.”

The unease in his voice twisted in my stomach like a blade. Vince rarely let his emotions show, so when he did, I knew it was serious.

The car sped through the streets like a bullet, the tires screeching as Vince took sharp turns without hesitation. When we finally reached the Herrera mansion, my blood ran cold.

The estate was in ruins.

Smoke curled into the sky, mingling with the acrid scent of gunpowder. Windows were shattered, the front gates blown open, and the once-pristine grounds were littered with bodies.

“Damn it,” Vince hissed, pulling his gun from his jacket and making a call. “Get to the Herrera estate now. Bring reinforcements.”

I barely registered his words, my eyes glued to the destruction in front of me. My breath caught in my throat, and before I could speak, Vince grabbed my arm.

“Stay in the car,” he ordered, his tone sharp. “This is bulletproof. Lock the doors and don’t get out, no matter what happens.”

“But—”

“No arguments, Aurora. Stay put.”

His expression left no room for debate, and before I could protest again, he was gone, disappearing into the chaos. I locked the doors as he instructed, but my hands trembled as memories of another night crashed over me like a tidal wave.

It was cold that night, too. I had come home excited to tell my mother about my school competition. But the moment I opened the door to our small apartment, I froze. The living room was a disaster—broken furniture, shattered glass, and blood.

And then I saw her.

She was hanging from the ceiling, her body lifeless, her head tilted unnaturally. They had tried to make it look like a suicide, but I knew better. My mother was no coward.

I shook the memory away, my chest heaving as I tried to focus on the present. Suddenly, a loud knock on the car window snapped me back to reality.

Vince.

He was panting, his shirt smeared with blood that didn’t look like his own. “You can get out now,” he said, his voice urgent. “Why? What’s happening?” I asked, but he didn’t answer.

“Just follow me,” he barked.

We moved quickly toward the mansion. My stomach churned at the sight of the carnage around us—blood pooling on the marble floors, men lying lifeless, their weapons still clutched in their hands. Others groaned in pain, clutching their wounds.

“What the hell happened?” I demanded, my voice breaking.

“They hit the estate while we were gone,” Vince said tersely, scanning the hallway with his gun raised.

By the time we reached my father’s room, I was trembling. Vince stopped in front of the door, his grip tightening around my hand.

“Brace yourself,” he said softly, his tone carrying a weight that made my knees weak.

He pushed the door open, and I stumbled inside.

My father lay on the floor, blood pooling beneath him. His face was pale, his eyes empty. Beside him was Gabriel, slumped against the wall, his gun still in hand. He had died protecting my father.

I couldn’t breathe. The room spun as the metallic scent of blood filled my lungs.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “No, no, no.”

It felt like déjà vu, a cruel replay of the nightmare that had stolen my mother. The grief hit me like a freight train, crashing into me with relentless force.

This was the life I had fought to escape. And yet, here I was, drowning in its blood-soaked reality.

My mother's brutal death. Matteo’s betrayal. My forced marriage to Vince. And now my father’s death. Everything came crashing down, suffocating me.

Vince’s voice broke through the haze. “Aurora, you have to brace yourself for what might happen next.”

It felt like too much. The grief, the rage, the helplessness—it all blurred together until the world went black.

The last thing I heard was Vince shouting my name.

“Aurora!”