His Immortal Wife Returns No Mercy for the Heavens

When I returned to the crew from the road, all I found of my master was a heap of ruined flesh.

Every bone in his body was gone. My senior brothers and sisters were nowhere to be found.

Donna Vittoria sat before his corpse, her aged voice calling out to me.

Nara, your master traded his life for every protg's place in the Valente family. You should go report to the Commission stronghold too.

Only then did I learn the truth. Aldric Valente, the Boss of All Bosses, had needed the Original Oaths to legitimize his wife's position at the head of the syndicate. He'd chosen my master, the one who held them all as neutral custodian, the one whose word every family head trusted.

In exchange for allowing every protg of the Castellano crew to be made, he had ripped every bone and sinew from my master's body.

I've had a flaw for as long as I can remember. I don't cry. I don't laugh. The whole crew called me cold-blooded.

Now, staring at the mangled remains of the man who had saved my life and raised me as his own daughter, I was still calm.

"Donna Vittoria, did Master agree to this willingly?"

Her eyes reddened instantly.

"Aldric Valente is the last true power in this world. What he says goes. We never had a choice."

I gave a quiet "oh."

"If Master didn't agree to it willingly, then Aldric Valente deserves to die."

Donna Vittoria seized my arm, her voice tight with worry. "Nara, before your master drew his last breath, he told all of you to take care of yourselves. Don't throw your life away picking a fight with the Boss of All Bosses."

I pulled my wrist free, lifted my gaze toward the Valente compound on the hill, and smiled faintly.

"Donna Vittoria, Master said not to fight him. He never said anything about killing him."

I turned and walked back to my courtyard. Without a word, I dropped to my knees and began digging through the soil beneath the old fig tree with my bare hands.

Before long, a black-handled stiletto caked in dirt saw daylight again. Mietitore. The Reaper. My father's blade, broken once and reforged by a child who didn't yet know what she was reclaiming.

Donna Vittoria rushed after me and snatched the blade from my grip, tears brimming in her eyes.

"Nara, I know you want to avenge your master."

"But Aldric Valente commands every soldier, every capo, every made man in the syndicate. With this blade, you cannot defeat him."

"Please don't throw your life away for nothing."

"Your master said it himself. Trading one life for the future of every protg in the crew was worth it."

But I knew Master was lying.

One look at the wreckage strewn across the Castellano house told the whole story. The moment Aldric destroyed him, every last protg had followed the Boss away without hesitation.

Not a single one stayed behind to bury him.

For a pack of protgs that heartless, did Master truly believe it was worth it?

Faced with my silence, Donna Vittoria's eyes grew redder still.

But she was terrified I would do something reckless, so she swallowed her own tears and forced a smile.

"Nara, you came back, didn't you? As long as you remember your master, that's enough."

Desperate to smother the hatred in my heart, she hurried into the kitchen and brought out a pot still faintly warm with steam.

"Nara, our Castellano crew is small. We don't have the power. Let's not talk about revenge."

"Look. Your master stewed this pigeon soup for you right before he died."

"He said you must have suffered on the road. You were already too thin, he said. You needed to eat properly."

I reached out and touched the dried blood crusted on the side of the pot. My face showed nothing. "Was Master making me soup when he died?"

Donna Vittoria's hands trembled. Her voice cracked further.

"Yes. He was watching the pot. He was afraid it would turn bitter if it stewed too long."

"He said you hate anything sour or bitter."

I thought to myself, that foolish old man. He died without ever realizing I'd been lying to him.

I never actually minded sour or bitter things.

I just hated taking medicine.

When Master first found me, I was badly wounded. My health never fully recovered after that, and I needed medicine constantly just to stay alive.

It drove me mad. Every now and then I'd dump the doses in secret.

When Master caught on, he bought sour jujubes to coax me, saying that if I ate one first, the medicine wouldn't taste so bitter.

I didn't want to cooperate, so I told him offhandedly that I didn't like anything sour or bitter.

Even though I could never win against Master's relentless coaxing, I still obediently took my medicine for six years. But he kept those words of mine close to his heart.

After I recovered, nothing sour or bitter ever appeared on my dinner table again.

I took the pot from Donna Vittoria's hands and, as if I couldn't feel the scalding heat, drank half the soup in one long gulp.

The remaining half I poured out beside Master's body.

I wiped my mouth. "Not bad, old man. But the blood mixed in makes it a little fishy."

"Have a taste yourself. Pay attention next time you make it."

That was what finally shattered Donna Vittoria's composure.

The tears she had held back for so long broke free all at once.

"Nara, there won't be a next time. Your master is dead!"

Oh, right. There wouldn't be a next time.

Fine. Since Master couldn't look after me anymore, it was my turn to protect him for once.

I unfastened the coat Master had sewn for me with his own hands and draped it over his body. My voice was calm. "Donna, watch over Master. Don't bury him."

"He'd be too lonely by himself. I'll find him some company for the grave."

Donna Vittoria couldn't stop me. All she could do was weep and beg me to come back alive.

I carried Mietitore and walked toward the Valente compound.

The chain-link gate of the Castellano yard groaned shut behind me, and somewhere in the distance, the low rumble of engines told me the compound perimeter was already on alert.

Valente soldiers rushed forward, blocking me outside the compound gates.

The one leading them was none other than my senior brother from the Castellano crew, Master's proudest protg: Edoardo Castellano.

He stared at me in surprise, brow furrowed. His hand went to his tie, tugging it straight. "Nara, if you've come to seek the Boss's favor, you should keep your head down and your voice low."

"What's the point of making such a scene?"

I didn't bother looking at him. My eyes stayed fixed on the compound gates. "Tell Aldric Valente to come out."

"Tell him an old friend has come to visit."

Edoardo let out a weary sigh.

"Nara, have you lost your mind?"

"We're nobodies. Street kids from a nothing crew. If not for this stroke of fortune, how could we ever have been made and stood before the Boss of All Bosses?"

"'An old friend.' You're not embarrassed to say that out loud?"

Only then did I turn to look at Edoardo, each word falling like a stone. "You call Master's death a stroke of fortune?"

Edoardo faltered. A flicker of guilt surfaced in his eyes. His fingers went to his tie again, pulling at the knot, though it hadn't moved.

Rosalia Castellano, the second protge, had just arrived. She flipped her hair over her left shoulder and rushed to Edoardo's defense the moment she saw his expression.

"Nara, how dare you speak to Edoardo that way?"

"Master's death wasn't our doing."

"If you want to blame someone, blame Master for holding those Original Oaths. We simply seized the opportunity that presented itself."

Looking at Rosalia's face, utterly devoid of remorse, all I felt was that Master had never been worth the love he gave them.

Edoardo and Rosalia were the first protgs Master ever took in.

He treated them no differently than he treated me.

He poured every ounce of his heart into raising them, even putting off having children of his own.

That was why, after all those years, Master and Donna Vittoria never had a child by blood.

Donna Vittoria would grumble about it from time to time, but that foolish old man would just laugh and wave it off. "It's fine. I trust my people. When the day comes, they'll see us properly buried."

He was wrong, in the end.

But I knew that foolish old man.

He believed, to his last breath, that people were born good. Whenever his protgs made mistakes, he always gave them a chance to make things right.

I never agreed with that. But I didn't want him to die with his eyes open, restless and unsettled.

So I did what Master would have done. I gave Edoardo and Rosalia one chance.

"I'll handle avenging Master myself. I don't need your help."

"Go back to the Castellano house now. Stay with Master and Donna Vittoria."

"Carry on Master's legacy. Make the crew what it should have been."

Rosalia had been spoiled rotten by Master since she was a child, and her temper was as foul as they came.

The second she caught the commanding tone in my voice, her face soured.

She shoved me, her voice shaking with fury. "Nara, who do you think you are?"

"How dare you speak to your senior brother and sister like that?!"

Edoardo stepped between us, his expression the picture of composed reason. One hand went to his tie, straightening it with a practiced tug. "Nara, don't be rash."

"The Castellano crew was always a small, unremarkable outfit. Massimo spent his entire life trying to make it flourish and never could. What chance would we have?"

"Besides, all of us have been made now. Isn't that a glory the crew can be proud of?"

He reached out and took hold of my arm.

"Come now, be good. I'll take you to see the Boss. I'll make sure you get a fine position in the organization..."

But before the last word left his mouth, my stiletto was already buried in his chest.

Edoardo never even had time to react. He crumpled to the ground, eyes wide and glassy, dead before he hit the stone.

Every Valente soldier in the vicinity went rigid with shock. Weapons cleared leather, all trained on me.

Rosalia stumbled back two steps, her face white. "Nara, what kind of cursed thing are you holding?!"

She asked because Edoardo had already been made. The protection of the Valente name shielded him.

An ordinary blade couldn't have gotten within arm's reach before a dozen soldiers cut you down.

So in her mind, my weapon had to be something unholy.

I raised the stiletto, letting the light catch its edge. My voice was flat and cold. "Cursed? No common killer is worthy of wielding this."

"But you'll find out what it is soon enough."

I crouched beside Edoardo's body and drew the blade across his chest, slow and deliberate, blooding the steel.

"Since our dear senior brother had no loyalty to speak of, his blood might as well serve a better purpose. A blood offering for my blade."

"Nara, you vicious monster!"

Rosalia's eyes went red with rage. She pulled a gun from beneath her jacket and lunged toward me.

But at the critical moment, a Valente soldier beside her seized her arm and hauled her back, his hand trembling as he pointed at the stiletto hovering over Edoardo's body, the black handle slick and gleaming.

"Lady Rosalia, look. Your junior sister's blade... something's wrong with it. It's drinking the blood on its own."

Rosalia didn't care. She scoffed, flipping her hair over her left shoulder. "Old weapons never play by the rules. What's so strange about that?"

The soldier shook his head frantically. "No, you don't understand. You've only just been made."

"In all the generations since the families first formed, there has only ever been one blade that craves the blood of made men..."

Rosalia blinked, clueless. "What blade?"

The soldier's lips trembled around one word: "Mietitore."

Rosalia's jaw dropped. The color drained from her face.

But before she could gather her wits, a voice split the air from somewhere above the compound walls, heavy with authority that needed no anger to terrify.

"Silence!"

"I destroyed the Ferro heir with my own hands. Mietitore was shattered by my order. It no longer exists."

"You will not spread such baseless fear!"

I knew that voice. I knew it the way you know the sound of your own heartbeat. Aldric Valente. My enemy for as long as I had drawn breath.

And the one who had wounded me deepest of all.

He was right about one thing. I was the Ferro heir he claimed to have destroyed.

I was also the only other true power that had emerged from the Old Country alongside him, the only one who had survived the annihilation of the original families.

The year the old dynasty was wiped out, the two of us had nowhere left to go. We set aside our enmity out of necessity, clinging to each other to survive.

For years after that, Aldric treated me well.

The Ferro bloodline breeds cold. He was the one who taught me how to cry and how to laugh.

Under his guidance, I slowly learned to live in the world beyond the Old Country.

So when he told me he wanted to take me to the Commission's stronghold, that he would look after me for the rest of my life, I agreed without a second thought.

Years as husband and wife. Every one of them devoted. Every one of them tender.

Until Aldric met a civilian woman, and everything veered off course.

That woman was Elara, the one he now called his wife.

Elara was flesh and bone, a nobody from outside the families. She could not set foot in the Commission's inner world. The only way was to replace the nothing inside her with real power, with the leverage and legacy of a true dynasty.

Aldric searched every corner of the organization and found no justification to take what he needed from anyone else.

So he turned his attention to me.

He deliberately let the other families discover my true identity as the Ferro heir, then rallied every crew, every capo, every soldier in the three tiers of the underworld under the banner of justice to pin me down. They called it a cleansing. They called it restoring order. What it was, was a hit sanctioned by every man who owed Aldric Valente a favor.

I was already pregnant by then. My body had weakened, and I had no strength left to fight back.

I begged him to spare me. Begged until my voice broke. But all he left me with was a single, weightless phrase: The family cannot harbor what threatens it. Then he tore the Ferro Ledger from my hands, stripped me of every alliance, every debt, every ounce of leverage I had ever held, and put a bullet through the life I'd built.

Even Mietitore was snapped in half and ground under his heel.

It was the child in my womb who saved me.

He sacrificed his own life to keep my shattered body from giving out completely, his tiny heartbeat holding mine together just long enough.

After a long silence, I reformed into a physical body, but only that of a two-year-old child. A girl with no name, no family, no blood anyone would claim.

My heart was full of hatred. I knew I was no match for Aldric, yet I still set out on the road to the Commission's stronghold to take my revenge.

But my bones had barely knit and my leverage had yet to coalesce. I couldn't even fend off a street thug looking for an easy mark.

Just as a man with a knife was about to finish what Aldric had started, a pair of large hands scooped me into a warm embrace.

The old man whose eyes already creased with wrinkles looked down at me, heartache plain on his face. "How's a little thing like you out here all alone with nobody looking after you?"

"Don't be scared, sweetheart. This old man will keep you safe."

I assumed his kindness was a passing impulse. I never imagined he would go on protecting me for years.

The year I pieced Mietitore back together, I was nine. I reforged the broken blade myself, heating the steel over a gas burner in the back of Massimo's shop, working the metal with hands too small for the hammer. Tore found me there at three in the morning and said nothing. He simply sat down, took the hammer from me, and held the blade steady while I shaped it.

I planned to make one last trip to the Commission's stronghold and drag Aldric down with me, even if it killed us both.

But the night before I meant to leave, my master brought me a beggar's chicken. It wasn't particularly good.

He had no idea I was planning to go. He just scratched the back of his head, embarrassed, and said, "Nara, you haven't been eating well lately. You're getting too thin. I went all the way across town to learn this recipe from a famous cook on Mulberry Street."

"Go on, try it. If it's no good, I'll go back and learn again."

"And if you like it, I'll make it for you every single day."

I blinked, caught off guard. Suspicion crept in before I could stop it. "Why are you so good to me?"

My master stroked his chin and smiled. "Because I think of you as my own daughter."

"If my little girl starved, what kind of father would I be? I'd be heartbroken."

"I'm already old. I don't want to spend whatever years I have left crying my eyes out."

In that moment, looking at the white hairs that had grown in from worrying over me, I felt the walls around my heart crack for the first time in years.

So there was someone in this world who loved me after all.

All at once, I didn't want revenge anymore.

I buried Mietitore beneath the fig tree in the courtyard and buried all my hatred along with it.

But Aldric shattered my hard-won peace with his own hands, all over again, and dug my hatred back up from the roots.

I lifted my gaze toward the balcony where his voice had come from and spoke, each word deliberate and distinct. "Aldric. It's been a long time."

Before the last syllable faded, the heavy doors of the Commission chamber swung open.

In the space of a breath, Aldric Valente descended the marble stairs with Elara Abbiati on his arm.

He looked exactly the same as before. That face, carved clean and cold enough to ruin empires, hadn't aged a single day. The suit was different. The ring on his left hand was not. I knew that ring. I had placed it there myself.

The woman cradled against him glowed with the same vitality.

Aldric looked me up and down, his brow furrowing. "I have never laid eyes on you. What do you mean, 'a long time'?"

Oh. I had almost forgotten. After my body reformed, my appearance had changed completely.

No wonder he didn't recognize me.

But my attention wasn't on him. Every ounce of it was fixed on Elara, and I had no patience to spare for Aldric.

I stared at Elara, unblinking. "You're looking well. Rosy cheeks, bright eyes. My master's bones must be serving you nicely."

Back then, the Ferro Ledger had only granted Elara passage in and out of the Valente compound, a guest pass to the world she craved. Without the Original Oaths, she still could not be elevated. She could attend, but she could not rule.

Aldric had once considered taking my own leverage instead, but the full weight of the Ferro dynasty's accumulated debts and blood oaths was far more than a civilian woman like Elara could wield. The network would have crushed her. He'd been forced to abandon the idea.

It had taken him all these years of searching to finally find my master's Original Oaths, the perfect instrument for Elara's ascension. A neutral elder's custody documents, clean enough for her hands, powerful enough to legitimize her permanently.

My words landed, and understanding dawned across Aldric's face.

"Ah, so it's the Castellano old man's little protge. I was wondering who had the nerve."

"I understand you're grieving, but there's no need to forge a fake blade and impersonate the Ferro heir just to cause a scene."

He waved his hand with casual dismissal, his tone edged with impatience. "Enough. Considering your filial devotion, I'll let today's antics slide."

"Toss that counterfeit stiletto into the furnace."

"Then go find Capo Yunhe, pick whatever post catches your fancy in the organization, and stay out of trouble from now on."

With that, Aldric wrapped his arm around Elara's shoulders and turned to leave.

I reached out and locked my fingers around Elara's wrist. My voice was ice. "What's the rush?"

"I don't want your post. I want you to return my master's bones and sinews."

"Then come back with me and keep him company in his grave."

Both Aldric and Elara froze.

Rosalia was the first to recover.

Eager to prove herself, she charged over and slapped me across the face, snarling, "Nara, you ungrateful wretch!"

"The Boss lets you off and you push your luck?!"

"Apologize to the Boss and his wife this instant, or I'll deal with you myself!"

She flipped her hair over her left shoulder as the last word left her mouth, already coiling for something crueler.

I looked at Rosalia, cold and unblinking, and let my voice drop lower.

"Senior Sister. Everyone who has ever laid a hand on me is dead. My husband is the only exception."

Rosalia's brow furrowed. She spat, "Nara, have you lost your mind?"

"You've never even been betrothed. Where did this 'husband' come from?"

"That's enough. Apologize now and stop this lunatic act!"

But before the last word left her lips, Rosalia crumpled to the ground like a rag doll. The bones in all four of her limbs snapped at once, twisting her arms and legs at grotesque angles.

The soldiers flanking the corridor stiffened. Not one of them moved. The sound of it four wet, percussive cracks in rapid succession hung in the marble hallway like an echo that refused to die.

She stared up at me in horror. "Nara, what kind of trick is this?"

"Let me go! You're crippling a made woman in front of the Boss himself. Do you have a death wish?!"

I didn't spare her another glance. My grip tightened on Elara's wrist, and my voice stayed flat. "Are you going to pull the Original Oaths out yourself and hand them over, or do you need me to do it for you?"

Elara's face went white as parchment. Her hand drifted to the hollow of her throat, fingers closing around the pendant that hung there the one that had belonged to me in another life. She turned instinctively to Aldric for help.

Only then did Aldric snap out of his stupor.

His expression hardened. Killing intent flooded his gaze.

"Girl. Crippling someone without lifting a finger. Your reach is impressive, I'll grant you that."

"But no matter how convincing the act, you are not the Ferro heir."

"You don't have the power to face me."

"So I'll give you two choices. End your own life, or wait for me to put you so far in the ground no one will ever find you."

I looked at Aldric with something close to pity, and let every syllable land.

"Husband. You've already buried me once."

"Do you really think it would work a second time?"