The Mafia Queens

Chapter 1- The Death of a King

Ringing obnoxiously from a drawer in the corner of the office, a phone lit up, displaying the name of the caller. The noise didn't go unnoticed by the owner; however, she chose to ignore the desperate cries of the phone she hadn't looked at in years, the caller being left unbeknownst to her.

On the sofa, a young girl laughed carelessly at a man's poor attempt at humour as he made a move on her, his hand wandering ever closer to her thighs. Picking up on his advances, the lady shuffled away, her back hitting the arm of the chair.

Apparently not getting the hint, he continued to smirk at her, hovering over her as she tried to get off the couch. Biting his lip, wanting desperately to appear seductive, his face hovered over hers, looking deeply into her chestnut eyes.

"Stop," she mumbled, pushing him away, the tattoos lining her arms distorting with her every move, "Babe, stop." The man growled, not moving from his position, continuing to pin her to the rough fabric of the cushions.

"You do this every time, CJ! Do you not love me?" he replied, his anger evident in his speech, "Why won't you have sex with me?" CJ persisted in her efforts to get the heavy man off her, but his firm grip on her waist prevented her from escaping his clutches.

She pounded against his hard chest, almost shouting, "Please let me go, Brett. I don't want this!" Brett chuckled lowly, his eyes roaming her body freely. In the background, the phone still rang, its despairing rings going unheard.

"Well, maybe, I don't care what you want anymore! I've been faithful to you, waited, given you time, space, and in return? Nothing! Enough is enough! I'm taking what I want, whether you like it or not." His hands reached for her shirt buttons, ignorant to her blatant protests.

"Please?" CJ let out one last desperate cry as her boyfriend's hands reached towards the zipper of her shorts, which showed her oldest tattoos stretching down her thighs and calves. Against her pleas, Brett forced his lips onto CJ's, muffling her complaints.

"Oh, screw it," CJ mumbled, her anger building far quicker than that of her other half, "I gave you a chance, to keep my cover, but whatever." Brett scoffed. "What're you gonna do?" Brushing her threat off nonchalantly, he began making his way for her bra.

She glared daggers at her boyfriend, before bringing her knee up abruptly, hitting him directly in the crotch. He groaned in pain, loosening his grip on her slightly. Taking advantage of his moment of weakness, CJ slammed the heel of her palm into Brett's neck, causing him to choke, which allowed her to roll onto the threadbare carpet.

Without missing a beat, she shoved her hand under the pillow, pulling out a gun. She didn't hesitate in pointing it directly at his forehead. Now yelling, she belted instructions at her partner to get up she waved the gun towards the door.

"L- look, baby..." he began.
"Shut up!" CJ cut him off, "Don't call me that. Get out of my apartment or I swear I will shoot!"
Brett scoffed, his cocky attitude returning to him, "Yeah, right babe, you won't hurt me. You don't have it in you. Just the other day, you showed me that you couldn't fight at that bar, remember?"

"Oh, you're an absolute idiot! I had to convince everyone that I'm just a normal girl that was born and raised in London, you know, not Andrew Dickson's daughter! It was to keep me and my family safe. It was to protect myself from assholes like you."

 A smirk settled on her face as fear crossed his eyes, "But of course, you know all about that, right? Doesn't your father know him? So, get off your ass, before I hand it to you" Cracking her knuckles to prove her point, she stepped closer to her now ex-boyfriend, gun still in hand.

Whimpering slightly, Brett opened the door, coming face to face with a man in a black T-shirt and dark sunglasses. He took one look at CJ's half off clothes and gun and decided to punch the boy in front of him, breaking his nose.

"Ow, shit dude! What the hell was that for?" Brett almost squealed indignantly. The buff stranger looming over him grunted and grabbed him by the shoulders, shoving the struggling body out of the door.

"Lay a hand on her again and I'll break more than your face," the saviour growled, slamming the door. Concern was plastered on his face as he examined CJ's current state, "What did he do to you?" He spoke more to himself than her as he looked at the bruises on her arms, nearly, but not fully, concealed by the colourful images that covered them.

Her swollen lips and angry expression spoke for themselves as she threw herself into the dark-haired man's chest, her caramel arms snaking around his hips, as her head only reached his lower abdomen. "Uncle Dennis!" she sank into his embrace.

"Hey, Cara. I've missed you, little one." Dennis replied, softly.
"Actually, it's CJ now," she paused slightly, "Why are you here?"
"You didn't answer the phone I gave you..." studying her confused look, he explained further, "The emergency phone?"
"Oh crap, I completely spaced on that. Is that why you came?"

"Car- CJ, I came because your father passed two days ago. Drew is dead." His voice cracked as he said the last second the pain of losing his best friend clear in his heartbroken demeanour, "You know what this means, right? You're next in line."

Panic flooded the grieving girl's brain. "I- I can't. You were like family to him, to me. You should take his place. I'm not ready for this!" Dennis shook his head.

"You know it doesn't work like that. You're as ready as you'll ever be- you have been trained to kill since birth after all." When she continued to resist, he moved next to her on the settee, rubbing circles on her back, calming her.

"Look at yourself," he told her, lovingly, "You were made for this. To continue his legacy. Plus, I have a bunch of hormonal men in their 20's that I can't keep under control." They both chuckled at his last statement.

"Hurry and go get ready, the 'copter will be here in 10."