INFERNO: Craving My Mafia Stepbrother

Pearl’s P.O.V.

I stood by the gate, gripping the handle of my suitcase. I just wanted one last look at my father before I left. One last goodbye. But deep down, I already knew he would not come out. The windows stayed shut, the house looked cold and empty, but I kept staring at the front door, hoping like a fool.

Behind me, Mom leaned against the car, arms folded with an annoyed sigh. She checked her watch again. We were late for the airport, but I did not care. I could miss a hundred flights, but I did not want to leave without seeing my dad.

“Pearl, baby, get in the car,” Mom called out. “He made it clear he doesn’t want to see you.”

I kept quiet. She would not get a word from me, not until she told me why everything fell apart. I pressed the doorbell again and again. No answer. My fingers curled into fists. I knew my father was in there. I could feel it.

We used to be close. He was my hero, my safe place. But after the divorce, everything changed. He cut me off like I never existed. He did not even fight for me. Now, I had to move in with my mom’s new husband and his son. A whole new house, new people, new city.

Today was my last day here, and all I wanted was for my father to step out and look at me just once. But he stayed hidden like a coward.

I wiped my face and took a deep breath. My eyes drifted around the yard. The old garden looked dead, just like my relationship with him. The lilies he once planted for me had withered away. I bit my lip, forcing the tears back. I promised myself I would not cry.

I turned back toward the car, ready to give up. Then, I heard it—the door creaked open. I froze.

“Princess,” a weak voice called out.

I spun around and saw him standing there. His sweater was wrinkled, his trousers loose on his frame. He looked nothing like the man I once admired. His face looked older, more tired. His eyes had no light left in them.

He walked toward me, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, Pearl… I was asleep. I didn’t hear the bell.”

That was a lie. He never slept this early. He just did not want to face me. Even so, I swallowed my anger. I was too happy to see him.

“It’s okay, Dad,” I whispered and hugged him. My arms wrapped tight around him, afraid to let go. “I wasn’t crying… just happy tears.”

His hands rested on my back, but I felt how shaky they were.

“I’m sorry, princess. I shouldn’t have said those things before. I was… angry. Not at you. Never at you.”

I nodded. “It’s fine, Dad. I only came to say goodbye. I’m moving to L.A.”

“I know… I wish things were different. But you’ll be safer there, okay? If anything ever goes wrong, you call me. I’ll come for you. You’ll always be my little girl.”

His voice cracked. I hated how broken he sounded. My chest tightened, but I forced a smile.

“I’ll be okay. I’ll call you when I get there. And… I’ll come back for your birthday. Promise.”

He smiled, kissed my forehead, and stepped back. I memorized his face, every wrinkle, every line, and turned away before the tears came.

Mom stayed silent when I got in the car. We drove off, heading for the airport, heading for my new life. I stared out the window, holding back the fear. L.A. felt like another planet. A strange city with strangers waiting for me.

I only met my stepdad once—at the wedding. His sharp features and the scar by his brow made my skin crawl. He was older, richer, and more dangerous-looking than my dad ever was. I had not met his son yet, but I did not care. None of them mattered to me.

I told myself I only had to survive for one year. Just one. When I turned eighteen, I would leave. I would go back to New York and live with Dad. No matter what happened, I would not abandon him the way Mom did.

One year. That was all. Then I would be free.

---

Carrick’s P.O.V.

I sat in my office, reading through files on the Miami project when the door creaked open. My father walked in with a cocky grin, gripping an envelope like it was gold.

I already guessed what was inside. I knew what was coming, but I stayed quiet. No point letting him know I had the men wrapped around my finger. If he realized the underbosses followed me now, he would lose his temper and cause another massacre.

“Carrick,” he said like he owned the world. “Got something important for you.”

I didn’t bother to hide my annoyance. “That right? What is it this time—babysitting or cleaning up after one of your messes?”

“Enough with the attitude,” he barked, waving the envelope. “You and Vale are going undercover. Some fancy school uptown. I need you to dig into the sheriff’s little brother.”

I dropped the file in my hand and raised a brow. “You want me… to go to school? I run half the East Coast, and you want me pretending to be some damn teacher?”

“This is bigger than your ego,” he said. “The sheriff’s been taking out our people one by one. His brother’s the only weak point. No records, no photos, nothing. All we know is he’s at that school. You get close, figure out his connection, and find us a way to take the sheriff down.”

I scoffed and grabbed the envelope, flipping it open. New ID, background files… a full fake identity.

“Why don’t we just shoot the sheriff between the eyes and be done with it?”

“Because that hasn’t worked for anyone else,” he snapped. “Every hit on him failed. He’s a ghost. But his brother? He’s real, and he’s unprotected.”

I leaned back in my chair, blowing out a slow breath. “And while I’m stuck playing happy little teacher, you’ll be at home, playing husband?”

His jaw tightened. “You leave my wife out of this.”

I sneered, lighting a cigarette just to piss him off more. “Your wife? The same woman you met three months ago? And that stepdaughter I’ve never seen? You act like they’re royalty.”

“They’re part of this family now.”

“No. They’re part of your midlife crisis,” I said coldly. “I don’t care if you tattoo their names on your chest—they’ll never be my family. You better tell them to stay out of my way because if they show up at my place, I’ll send them back to you in pieces.”

His hands curled into fists, but he kept himself in check. I knew I got under his skin, and I liked it.

“Get it through your thick skull,” he said, voice low. “This is about survival. You do this, we survive. You screw it up, we’re all dead.”

I stood up and leaned across the desk, towering over him. “I’ll handle the job because I don’t feel like dying anytime soon. But make no mistake—I don’t answer to you. You’re the boss in name only. Remember that.”

He stared back, his mouth set in a tight line, but he didn’t say a word. He just turned and walked out.I sat back down, crushed the cigarette in the ashtray, and grabbed the envelope.

"Here we go again."