💔🖤🥀 The Mafia's
🥀🌹 Broken Angel 🖤❤️🔥
_An angel sold to the devil....yet the devil fell first,"🖤_
Written by Kãrmzy Stories 😊
*CHAPTER ONE🖤: The beginning of her chains ⛓️*
"Welcome to the Dark Sydney, a mafia group of powerful men… and here is your guide, Anna," Mateo, the right-hand man of Alejandro, said to me. His voice was deep and cold, carrying the kind of authority that made my heart skip a beat.
The name Dark Sydney alone sent shivers down my spine. I could feel fear crawling through my veins as I stood there in silence, my hands trembling slightly.
"Hi," Anna said to me — her tone warm, almost too gentle for a place like this. Her face was kind, but her eyes carried secrets, as if she'd seen too many things she wished she could forget.
"Hi," I whispered back, my voice shaky and small. I could barely meet her eyes. Everything around me felt strange — the dark marble walls, the tall guards, the heavy silence that filled the air. My heart ached, my body shivered, and even though Anna smiled, it didn't make me feel safe.
"Come on, let me show you around," Anna said softly as she reached out and held my hand. Her grip was warm, comforting — almost like she was trying to protect me from something I couldn't yet see. She smiled brightly, but I could tell it wasn't real happiness — it was the kind of smile people wear when they've learned to survive.
As we walked, I looked around — the hallway was long and beautiful, but behind its beauty was something cold, something dangerous. Every step I took felt heavy, like I was walking deeper into a world I could never escape from.
Anna squeezed my hand a little tighter. "Don't be scared," she said gently.
But I was. I was terrified.
And deep inside, I knew — my life would never be the same again.
Isabella POV
While touring the mansion with Anna, I could feel my heart pounding with every step we took. The mansion was enormous — walls covered in gold, chandeliers brighter than the sun, and guards standing like statues at every corner. But behind all that beauty, I could sense danger lurking. Every door we passed, every whisper in the hallway… it all screamed fear.
Anna, who seemed friendly at first, suddenly turned serious as she began to tell me about someone — someone I must never offend.
"You must respect Camilla Rojas," Anna said, her voice dropping low, almost like she was afraid the walls themselves might hear her. "She's the Queen here — a deadly woman. And even if she kills you, nobody, I repeat, nobody will dare to say a word about it."
Just hearing that name — Camilla Rojas — sent a chill through my bones. I swallowed hard, my hands trembling. My mind screamed to run, to hide, to disappear. But I couldn't. I was trapped. I didn't want to die… I just wanted to survive.
"O-Okay," I said, my voice barely leaving my lips. "I won't ever cross her path."
Anna gave a small smirk, half amused, half pitying. "Good. You'll need that fear if you want to stay alive here."
Before I could even catch my breath, she looked me up and down, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "Now let's get you changed. You look… pitiful in that long white gown."
I glanced down at myself — my only dress, the same one I wore when they dragged me from my uncle's house. It was dirty, torn, but it was mine. The only piece of my old life I had left.
Anna didn't wait for me to respond. She grabbed my hand roughly and dragged me into a large room filled with mirrors, clothes, and the heavy scent of expensive perfume. I stood there, frozen, as she tossed a short, glittering gown at me.
"Put that on," she ordered.
I stared at the dress — it was beautiful but revealing, far too short, far too tight. My chest tightened.
"Why should I wear this? It's short and against my doctrine," I said sharply, anger rising in my throat. I felt like crying, like screaming, like running away from everything.
Anna turned to me with a dark glare, her tone now sharp as a blade. "Your doctrine?" she scoffed, stepping closer. "Listen, girl, this isn't your little church choir anymore. This is the Mafia — the strongest, most feared group in Colombia. You don't get to talk about holiness here."
Her voice grew louder, echoing through the walls. "You're not righteous anymore. You belong to us now. You're no longer an angel — you're a sinner."
The words hit me like a knife to the heart. I froze, tears welling up in my eyes as she stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
For a moment, silence filled the room. I stood there, staring at myself in the mirror — the girl who once sang hymns in church was gone. All I saw now was a broken, scared reflection of someone I didn't recognize.
Slowly, I reached for my chaplet that hung around my neck — the last piece of faith I had left. My fingers trembled as I pulled it off. Tears rolled down my cheeks.
"I'm sorry, God," I whispered, my voice cracking.
Then, with a trembling hand, I tossed the chaplet aside.
And as it hit the floor, so did the last piece of the girl I used to be.
Still crying, I sat on the cold marble floor of the room, my makeup smeared and my heart aching like it was bleeding from the inside. I couldn't stop asking myself why? Why did I ever have to be born into this kind of life? Why did I ever trust my uncle? Why did I have to end up in this… hell?
I buried my face in my hands, trembling, wishing it was all a nightmare I could just wake up from. But then — the door burst open.
"Hey, b****," Mateo's cold voice cut through the silence. He leaned on the door frame, smirking with disgust as his eyes scanned me from head to toe. "The boss wants to see you. Right now."
My stomach twisted in fear. The boss? My body went stiff instantly. Everyone in the mansion spoke about him in whispers — Alejandro De León, the man whose name alone made grown men shake.
"W-Why?" I managed to ask, my voice cracking.
Mateo's smirk grew wider. "You'll find out soon enough."
He didn't wait for me to move. He grabbed me by the arm roughly and dragged me down the endless hallway. My heart pounded faster with every step. The mansion that looked grand earlier now felt like a haunted cage, its corridors darker, colder.
We climbed the stairs to the left wing — the most silent part of the mansion. The guards' eyes followed, hard and merciless, like i didn't even deserve to breathe the same air as them.
Finally, we stopped in front of a massive black door — tall, elegant, and terrifying. Mateo released my arm and straightened his jacket.
"Here's his room," he said flatly, then turned away without another word.
I stood there frozen, staring at the door, unable to breathe. My legs felt weak. Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard it hurt. Every part of me screamed to run — but there was nowhere to go.
Gathering what little courage i had left, i raised my hand and knocked gently.
"Knock… knock…" i whispered, my voice shaking as her knuckles hit the door.
For a moment, there was silence — then a deep, cold voice that carried authority and power, the kind that could silence an entire room, spoke.
"Come in," the voice said.
My breath caught in my throat. That voice… it was him.
Regret tasted like metal in my mouth. Every step I had taken until this moment — every small kindness I'd given, every prayer I'd whispered in the dark — felt like a lie. My uncle's face flashed through my mind, the way he'd pushed me forward like a bargaining chip, like I meant nothing. I pressed my palms to my eyes and tried to breathe through the panic rising in my throat.
A voice cut the air from inside the room, blunt and impatient. "Are you not coming in, or do you want me to drag you in?"
My legs felt numb but something harder than fear pushed me forward. My hand trembled on the heavy door as I pushed it open. For a heartbeat the world tilted. A broad back filled the doorway, muscles moving under a dark shirt, the scent of expensive cologne striking me like a physical thing. Then he turned.
Alejandro De León. He stood there as if he owned the light itself. Up close his face was even more terrifyingly perfect — a sharp jaw, eyes like polished obsidian, a mouth that did not smile. When he walked it was with the ease of a man used to command; when he spoke it was with the quiet of someone who expected obedience. Part of me wanted to fall to my knees. Another, smaller part wanted to flee and never be seen again.
Something ashamed and foolish warmed beneath my ribs at the sight of him — an embarrassing flutter I immediately crushed with a cold prayer in my head. I had no chaplet now; I'd thrown it away in anger earlier. I wished for it then, for anything that might steady me.
"Why I called you over," he said, voice low, "is to inform you that from now on you will be my personal maid. Starting tomorrow, you will take training from Mateo."
The words landed like a physical blow. Maid. Property. My stomach rolled. "But why, sir?" I managed, the question too small for the room.
"Because I don't accept weak people in my team." His eyes pinned me like an accusation.
A heat rose in my cheeks at the way he looked me up and down, assessing, measuring. "You don't look bad though," he said suddenly, and the sentence sounded like an order pregnant with something I didn't like at all. "Turn around. Let me take a good look at you."
My pride flared hot and stupid. I obeyed because I knew better than to refuse, but I did it with my chin up, with the last of my dignity clenched between my teeth. As I turned, his hand came down — hard, brutal — across my backside. Pain snapped through me; humiliation followed like a shadow. I gasped, the air burning in my lungs.
Anger lit like gunfire. Without thinking, without permission, my palm flew and met his cheek with as much force as I could muster. The slap rang in the room, sharp and echoing.
He did not flinch like a man hurt; he stared at me the way a man sees an insult to his territory. "You slapped me!!" The words were cold, incredulous, and dangerous all at once.
My mouth opened, then closed. "Uhmmmmm…" I stammered, useless pleas bubbling and breaking in my throat. I tried to explain, to apologize, but what could I say? That I hated being treated like property? That the sting on my skin burned more than the slap ever could?
Alejandro's face was an unreadable mask. He turned, and, as if on cue, Mateo appeared in the doorway — the lean shadow of the man who did not bother with mercy.
"Mateo." The name fell from Alejandro's lips like a command. Mateo's expression was flat as a blade.
"Carry her and lock her up in the dungeon," Alejandro ordered, voice stripped of any hint of feeling. His face remained a stone wall as he pronounced the sentence that would become the next days of my life.
"No—please—" The words tore from me before I could stop them. I dropped to my knees, hands scrabbling at the floor as if I could anchor myself to anywhere but here. Tears blurred the room, hot and useless.
"Lock her up for three days. No food. No water." The finality of it stunned me. No food. No water. The words felt like a rope tightening around my throat.
Mateo's grip was iron as he took me. I clawed, I begged, voice cracking into raw, animal sounds. He hoisted me like I was nothing more than luggage. My protesting hands beat against his chest and fell uselessly. Guards stepped aside to let us pass; no one met my eyes. The mansion's gilded lights blurred as they carried me toward cold stone and deeper darkness.
As the heavy door of the dungeon closed behind me with a bone-deep thud, a scream lodged in my chest — loud and ragged and utterly hopeless. I pressed my back against the cold wall and curled over my knees, the hurt in my skin paling beside the hurt in my heart. The world I had known — the church, the songs, the small safe corners of my past — felt like a dream flickering farther away.
Three days without food, without water, with only the echo of my own breathing and the memory of the slap — that was my sentence. And in that silence, I understood one brutal truth: in Alejandro De León's world, mercy had no place.
Alejandro POV
"She's so fierce… and I love it," I muttered under my breath, a faint smile tugging at my lips as I brushed my fingers over the spot where she'd slapped me. No one had ever dared to touch me before — not and lived to tell the tale. Yet, there was something thrilling about her defiance.
Composing myself, I leaned back in my chair, the glint of amusement still in my eyes. "Call in Camilla," I ordered one of my guards coolly. "It's time we had a little talk."
_🖤Was it bravery of foolishness for Isabella to slap the mafia boss ?_
Let's find out in our next chapter guys 🥹 😊