The alarm ripped me out of sleep before the sun. My body ached from yesterday’s training, but I forced myself up. Today wasn’t just another day. My hands shook as I laced my boots. I told myself it was just adrenaline, but deep down I knew it was fear. Fear of failing. Fear of proving my father right, that I was just a sheltered girl playing dress-up in combat boots. Today I either became the daughter my father demanded… or stayed his prisoner forever.”

I showered quickly, letting the cold water jolt me awake. My thoughts kept circling back to my father’s voice last night: “Prove you can survive, Elisa.” No goodnight. No luck. Just a challenge. I pulled on black cargo pants and a fitted shirt, clothes I could move in, not the silk dresses I grew up in. My hair went into a tight braid. No loose ends, literally.

Downstairs, Valerie was already waiting by the car, leaning against it with that casual smile of hers. But behind her smile, her eyes were unreadable. Valerie never looked nervous. Not when we skipped school, not when she fought off boys twice her size, and not now. Sometimes I wondered if she even knew fear at all or if it had been trained out of her since birth. Most times, I admired Valerie. She was the definition of beauty with brains, a total badass and grew up receiving love from both mother and father.

Something I always craved and at that very moment, I saw her, a glimpse of the images of my mum. I missed her. “Are you ready?” Valerie snapped me out of my thoughts. I met her gaze. “I have to be." I'm tired of being a prisoner." We both entered the car and it drove off. The car stopped in the middle of nowhere. No streetlights. Just a stretch of cracked road, open fields, and the sound of wind cutting through the night. We came down simultaneously with my father and his men. My father stepped up to address me. “This is where we part ways with you, my Princess. Prove to me that you're a Moretti. He kissed my forehead once, gentle, almost tender and whispered in my ear, “Or die trying.” Then he was gone, his footsteps fading into the night like a verdict. Those were his last words before they all left, even Valerie. Did he just say, "or die trying?" And I that very moment, fear held me tight.

I had no idea what or how I'd be tested and somehow the thought of it terrified me. Was I to be tested as a Moretti? Or his Princess? I strolled across the road, my boots crunching against loose gravel.

That was when I heard the voice. “Clock’s ticking, princess.” A man stepped from the shadows, tossing a talkie onto the ground. “You’ll want that,” he said. His grin was sharp. “Rules are simple." Get to the safe house before sunrise. No guards. No help. And every man I send after you… will try to kill you. The talkie crackled to life as I fitted it beside my ear. My father’s voice came through, calm as if we were discussing dinner. “Prove to me, you can survive, Elisa.” The first shot rang out before he finished speaking. I hit the ground, the bullet tearing into the dirt where I’d been standing. My heart slammed into my chest. I rolled into the ditch, keeping low, scanning for movement.

A shadow moved behind the fence line. I counted to three, then bolted toward the cover of a cluster of trees. Branches scraped my arms as I ran, my ears straining for footsteps. The second man came at me from the left, knife glinting. I sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, and slammed it against the tree trunk. His breath reeked of blood and cigarettes as he gasped against the tree. For a second his face unmasked into someone’s brother, someone’s tired father, an ordinary life ground down into this. The image stabbed me, but mercy was a luxury I couldn’t afford. If I hesitated, I was dead. But if I didn’t? maybe I was already turning into him.

My stomach lurched, but I shoved the thought down. Mercy could wait. Survival couldn’t. The knife fell. I quickly grabbed it and stuffed it in my strap as it might be useful in defense. My knee found his stomach before he could recover. I didn’t wait to see if he stayed down. By the time I reached the old bridge, the air was thick with the smell of rain and gunpowder. Two more blocked my way. One with a chain, the other with a shotgun. My pulse steadied. I grabbed a fist-sized rock from the ground, hurled it at the shotgun’s barrel, and lunged at the one with the chain before he could swing. Every step and every breath I took was a fight. When the safe house finally came into view, my smile grew wider as I ran towards it. Relief almost broke me. I wanted to collapse right there in the dirt. But then a chill ran down my spine. The safe house was too still. No lights, no guards. Like it had been waiting for me all along. My legs burned, and my throat felt raw. “It was finally over,” I thought. But that wasn't the case. I got to the house and to my surprise, he was there.

Inside, my father sat in a chair, sipping whiskey like he’d been there all night. His eyes met mine, a flicker of approval breaking through the steel. He raised the glass like toast. “Congratulations." You outran bullets and knives tonight. But can you outrun what’s inside you?He didn’t mean fear. He meant hesitation, pity, the small soft things that slow a kill. His eyes asked if I could bury whatever made me human and still answer when the body asked for blood.

Now let's start.

“Start?” I was both confused and drained at that moment. I never knew my father to be ruthless, or maybe he was, but never to me. I was still catching my breath when he set the glass down. “That was the warm-up,” he said, leaning back. “Now comes the part that matters.” He snapped his fingers. Two men stepped forward, dragging someone between them. A hood covered the prisoner’s head, hands tied behind his back. They dumped him in the middle of the room.

My father’s eyes stayed on me. “This man is a traitor." He’s been feeding information to the people who tried to kill you. One of the guards ripped the hood off. The man was young, barely older than me, his face swollen from a beating, blood dried at the corner of his mouth. His eyes found mine, desperate. I could feel the pain he was going through by staring into his eyes. “I had no choice,” he rasped. “They have my sister." Please…. "She's all I have left.” His voice cracked, and something inside me did too. I remembered begging my mother not to go, clinging to her dress until my father tore me off. The desperation in his eyes was the same as mine that night, helpless, small, ignored.

“Don’t talk to her,” my father cut in sharply while landing a slap onto his cheeks. His gaze sharpened. “You want to be trusted?" You want me to believe you can survive in my world? Then prove it. Right here. Right now.” He pushed a gun across the table toward me. The metal was cold under my fingers. My palms slicked with sweat. I thought of the girl who bumped into me at the mall, her wide innocent eyes. What if it were her brother kneeling here? What if it were me, begging for my mother’s life? My finger hovered near the trigger. For a heartbeat, I almost pulled it but then I looked from the gun to the man on the floor. My stomach twisted. “Tick tock, Elisa,” my father said softly. “In our world, hesitation kills.” The man’s breathing grew faster. “Please… don’t do this.” My fingers tightened on the grip, but my blood felt frozen. I could still hear the man’s shallow breathing, see the raw fear in his eyes. Then, slowly, I lifted my gaze to my father. “You want me to kill him?” My voice cracked once, but I steadied it. “You want me to end a man’s life just to prove myself to you?” He said nothing, just watched me, unreadable. I shook my head. “No.” Something flickered in his expression, but it was gone as quickly as it came. “Elisa…” “No,” I said again, louder this time. “If leadership means becoming like this, then maybe I don’t want it." I thought you trained me to defend myself… not to execute someone on command. You think killing makes you strong? It doesn’t. It makes you hollow. For the first time, my father leaned back, his tone softening, almost… weary. “And what do you think strength is, Mi amor?" When you take over the company which is certain for you, you’ll see. It’s not just about defending yourself. It’s about making decisions others can’t. Carrying the weight no one else will. "This..” he gestured to the man “ is part of that weight.” I didn’t move. My hands were steady, but my heart was pounding so hard it hurt. He sighed and straightened. “Fine.” His gaze shifted past me. Valerie!!,” my father said. I turned, finally my saviour was here, the one person that kept me sane all these while. I was expecting her to argue, to defend me. Instead, she stepped from the shadows like she’d been waiting for this moment all along. She didn’t hesitate. She didn’t even look at me. One shot. The traitor fell. My throat burned.

Valerie wasn’t just my best friend. She was the only piece of family I’d ever chosen for myself. And at one gunshot, I realized she belonged more to my father’s world than to mine. Only then did she glance my way. And in her eyes, I didn’t see my best friend. I saw my father’s soldier. The sound rang in my ears. The man’s body hit the floor. I stared at her, my mind struggling to catch up. Valerie?? My best friend killed a living being, stood over the body, her face calm, almost detached. She met my eyes and shrugged, as if it were nothing. And at that moment, the room felt colder than it had when I walked in. My father stood over me, his eyes colder than the gun still on the table. “You’ve been in my shell too long,” he said. “I kept you safe… maybe too safe." But shells are meant to break, if you're going to rule.” I felt the weight of his words before he even finished. Was this what it meant to be a leader? A Moretti? To kill without hesitation. I couldn't believe my eyes at that moment. It felt like I was in a nightmare. “Your lockdown is lifted,” he went on, “On one condition, you'll take your birthright seriously and become involved in all our dealings. In the meetings, the deals, the dirt. No more sidelines, Elisa.” He didn’t wait for my answer. He just turned and walked out with his goons following behind, the door was shut behind like a sentence being passed onto me. And that my friend was how my story changed, from worse to worst!

Valerie came closer to me. I stared at her. “How could you do that?” My voice cracked, but it wasn’t weakness, it was disbelief. I never thought Valerie could harm a fly. Although I did have my suspicions from when she dealt with my bully but still and today she killed this man in my presence. She met my gaze without flinching "In this world, hesitation gets you killed." I did what had to be done.” Her words hit harder than the gunshot had. Was I to be surprised? She is the daughter of a deadly mafia too and must probably be in the family business already. Valerie turned to leave, but paused at the door. “One day,” she said, “you’ll thank me.” As she turned, her phone lit up in her hand. I caught a glimpse of the screen, an unread message. Not from my father. From someone labeled only Unknown but I paid blind eye to it.

The door clicked shut. And in that silence, I realized… my freedom had just become my death sentence. My phone buzzed in my pocket: one message from an unknown number: Good debut. The board will be pleased with you.