They sat waiting.

Two men, one stationed at the elevator door, the other by the bulletproof window, exchanged glances; one reached for his gun, pulling it from his waistband and balancing the cold metal reassuringly in his palm, checking it was loaded.

Watching and waiting.

"Do you think something's gone wrong?" A little girl whispered to her sister. The clock ticked behind her, on the mantelpiece. The room was cold; a myriad of sharp lines and cutting edges, made of glass and metal. The atmosphere was heavy, weighing down like a tonne of concrete - the silence broken only by the ticking away of time.

The clock was out of place; something old in a place that was new. The sister stared at it, remembering briefly that it once sat on her grandfather's desk in Italy - before he died; she didn't hear her younger sibling over the roaring in her ears.

The two girls were sitting at the dining table, with seven chairs. Six members were present; one yet to arrive. One member was muttering a prayer, staring out of the dark window at the cityscape, her fingers rubbing against rosary beads.

"Cee?"

The older sister dragged her eyes away from her mother with her rosary, turning to the girl with a reassuring smile, her fingers tapping nervously on the glossy mahogany table. "Of course not, bambina, Papa is coming." The younger sister shifted closer and nestled into her sister's side. "Promise?"

"I promise." The older sister, Camilla, hid her worried face in her sister's hair for a minute. She caught her mother's gaze in the window, resting on her two younger children: she was scared. They were all scared. "Fieros never break their promise."

One of the armed men, a trusted employee, approached their mother while they watched, one finger to his earpiece; Marie Fiero murmured something to him in a hushed tone, her shoulders tense. As they spoke, Marie reached out her hand to her eldest - Leo - unconsciously, seeking comfort; Cee knew her older brother had been counting stars, to calm himself, but he stopped to clasp his mother's hand.

Camilla let herself relax the smallest amount as her mother's worried expression broke into a bright smile: good news.

Marie looked around the room, nodding once to her brother-in-law, sitting with his wife on a sofa, his face shadowed in the dim light. They rose, moving towards their places at the table; the seventh member was nearly there.

There was a tiny, almost imperceptible beep; all eyes moved to the elevator doors. Just above, the panel displayed which floor the lift was at: 6.

Then 7. Then 8. It was rising, too quickly to count anymore; Cee's aunt smiled finally.

"Papa!" The youngest girl, Caterina, jumped from her seat with excitement, racing to the lift to wait, impatiently.

The older sister, Cee, exchanged a glance with her brother. He was nervous. She could tell by the little crease between his brows. "It'll be okay, Leo," she said softly, placing her hand on his. He squeezed back in response, but stayed silent. That was his way.

Marie Fiero moved to the table, her grip tight on the back of the chair at the head of the table, reserved for the seventh member: her husband. Her nails were usually impeccable, manicured to perfection, but now they were chipped and jagged.

The six of them waited; the clock ticking; the elevator rising.

And then it reached their level: number 12.

The doors slid open silently: it was him. Cee would recognise her father anywhere: broad, tall and fierce. He was an aging lion with a silver mane: past his prime but still the deadliest around.

"Papa!" The youngest child threw herself into the man's arms, a blur of chocolate curls and her favourite pastel blue dress. The man stooped, swinging his daughter up into his arms and clutching her a fraction tighter, holding her for a second longer than usual. "Principessa," he whispered. Around her, Cee felt her family release a sigh they hadn't realised they were holding in.

Something was wrong. She could tell. No one else had noticed it yet, but they would. Something was very wrong.

Her father hoisted Cat onto his hip as his wife rounded the table, reached for his face, her expression unreadable. She breathed his name, just once, "Leonardo." It was a tender moment. Cee turned her gaze to the floor, not wanting to intrude. She was out of place as it was.

These people, this family - she didn't know them anymore.

"Camilla." Her head jerked up at the sound of her full name. "You came." Her papa was smiling at her, so hopeful, so sad. She attempted a smile back as he lowered his youngest to the floor, staring at her. "It's Cee, now. Of course I came. You asked." Her father nodded thoughtfully, his eyes flickering to his eldest son, who only gave a terse nod.

"Please, sit," he gestured, strolling around the table as though they hadn't been wondering if he'd been dead not five minutes ago. As though they hadn't been rushed here, in an emergency, because they'd heard that they were under attack - that the Fiero Don was under attack.

He took his rightful spot at the head of the table. "Vin, Arla, thank you for coming." Cee's uncle and aunt smiled; Arla's hand was so tightly gripped in her husband's that her knuckles were white.

"Good to see you, boss," Vincenzo replied respectfully, bowing his head. Marie Fiero interlaced her fingers with her husband's, sliding him a glass of whiskey that he swallowed immediately before looking around at his family.

"We don't have much time," Leonardo began, but broke off abruptly. He took a deep breath. "I would not have involved you all unless it was absolutely necessary." Cee knew: she knew she wouldn't have been called here unless it was an emergency. The last time she'd seen her father had been four years ago - he'd aged well. The silver in his hair was new, but old age suited him.

"Until an hour ago, we were finished. The family was finished." Cee watched her father reach for the bottle of whiskey, pour himself a glass with a dark expression. "I was finished."

They waited, patiently, as he took another deep gulp; Caterina fidgeted in her chair, not understanding a word of this. Cee didn't expect her to.

"We may not be the biggest family, but we are one of the richest in the business." Cee fought back a shiver of disgust; their family business - their entire fortune - was built on slavery and sexual exploitation. Her father's proud smile made her skin crawl. "And today, it nearly fell apart."

"Leonardo," Marie whispered, looking at her husband in shock, surprised he could admit failure - surprised he could even fail.

"I won't get into detail," he announced darkly, setting his glass down a little too hard. "But we have a rat." His brother murmured something in Italian, a bitter threat. "But enough about that. Until an hour ago, we were finished - and now we are not."

Marie broke into a large smile, clasping a hand to the rosary she wore. Even Leo, named for his father, leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

"The Romanos have offered us a deal."

It was as if Leonardo had set off a bomb: the family exploded around him. Leo and Vincenzo had stood up, raising their voices almost immediately; Arla had let out a cry of fear, lapsing into her native language - Marie had clasped her hands together and began to pray, loudly, for her family's safety.

"The Romanos?" Leo snarled in disgust, throwing his hands in the air.

"You cannot be serious," Vincenzo exclaimed, his thick accent getting stronger with every word. Cee watched her mother pray, her eyes squeezed tightly shut as she muttered.

"They saved my life," Leonardo announced loudly and firmly, cutting through the clamour instantly. "From the attackers today."

"Papa, please - you cannot trust them!" Leo tried, his efforts futile as his father glared him down.

"Listen to your father," Marie interrupted, her eyes flickering with doubt to her husband.

"Silence." A hushed quiet fell on the table as their leader recollected his thoughts. "We plan to begin the process of drawing up a complete set of trade regulations next week, while they lend us the man-power to get back on our feet - lawyers, hit-men, all sorts."

"This is...unexpected news," Vincenzo reached for his wife's hand with a nervous smile, "but you must be pleased there is a positive outcome."

"There are complications." There are always complications, Cee thought to herself, preparing to daydream away the hours. There was no reason for her to be there. "They want Caterina."

Cee's chair screeched as she stood up abruptly, breaking the dead silence that had fallen. "Tell them to go to hell," she spat, ignoring her brother's attempts to force her to sit down.

"Leonardo," Marie whispered, her eyes wide, glancing at her other daughter uncertainly. "Is there no other way?"

"No."

"Can we trust them?"

"They are Romanos, no one can trust them," Leo contributed helpfully, scowling.

"But is it worth the risk?" Her uncle began, glancing uncertainly at the young girl, obliviously playing with a doll in her lap. "Are we willing to give them that much leverage?"

"No." Cee's soft, yet blunt statement cut off Marie and Vincenzo. "No," she repeated. Her father looked at her, daring her to continue.

"It is a precaution-"

"No, no, no." There was a long pause as Cee looked around the table. "You are not serious." She stared at her father, incredulous.

"Camilla-"

"She is a child!" Her father shook his head.

"She is a Fiero."

"She's still a little girl." Cee's eyes were pleading, but her father never changed his mind once he had decided. "Mama, tell him he cannot do this." Silence. Cee turned to her mother. "Mama?"

"Enough, Camilla." Marie's voice was sharp.

Cee opened her mouth to argue - and froze as she saw the cold metal of the barrel of a gun aimed at her head.

"Sit down, Camilla." This was the father she remembered: cold and emotionless.

Marie took Caterina's hand, leading her away gently from the table, and to her room - Cee watched them go, her mouth tasting bitter. Caterina shouldn't have to see her sister get shot by her father.

"What do you propose I do, Camilla?" He was quietly furious: when he was most dangerous. "The Romanos are exchanging a hostage in return, to guarantee that they will also play by the rules." Cee stayed silent, her heart pounding, turning away from Marie and Caterina, disappearing into a room. "It is the only way to guarantee our safety. The Romanos don't hurt women and children-"

"I'll go then," she pleaded suddenly, surprising everyone in the room, including herself. Leonardo was silent, his gun still aimed at her head. "I'll go," she repeated, with more conviction.

---

Cee paced the cold floorboards, trying to ignore the claustrophobia creeping in. She had been locked here since her proposal, no longer allowed to attend their meetings, to discuss her little sister's fate.

"It's not fair," she whispered to herself. Caterina was the baby of the family, the youngest of all her cousins, the youngest of the Fieros. She shouldn't be forced into this; too young to understand what was going on, too naive to realise her safety would be in danger. If Cee went, she knew how to defend herself. Sort of. She knew how to break a window and run away if someone start waving guns around. It was the only option.

Frustrated, Cee curled into the corner of the tiny room. It was small, designed for storage. No windows. One door. The only way in or out.

A knock came at the door.

"Cee?" a little voice called uncertainly.

"Cat!" Cee jumped up, kneeling at the door like she could hug her sister through it. "Cat, it's me!"

"Cee! I missed you!" the little girl called through the door, cold against Cee's cheek. "Mama said you were trying to help me."

"Yes, bambina, that's what I'm doing." Cee sighed, placing her palm on the door. She didn't want this life. But Caterina didn't deserve it either. She had her whole life ahead of her.

"Why did Papa lock you up?"

"I'm going to go and meet some very important people," Cee told her, fighting the rising fear inside her, "and I can't risk telling them Papa's secrets."

"I wish you could come and play with me, Cee," the little girl mumbled, kicking her shoes against the floor childishly. "I never get to show you my dolls." Cee closed her eyes firmly. The first time she had set foot in her family home in four years and now she's dragged right back into the middle of it.

"I promise I'll play with you and your dolls soon. You know what that means, Cat?"

"Fieros never break a promise," Cat recited back at her sister, smiling despite not being able to see Camilla. "Now you have to play with me!"

"That's right, Cat. That's right."