Blue; The Mafia's Angel

Chapter One: Into the Lion's Den

Blue POV

I was in the back of an SUV, clutching my backpack so tight the straps cut into my hands. New York City’s lights blurred past—skyscrapers, all shiny and cold, nothing like the grimy condo Dad called home.

My cheek throbbed where Vincent Moore, my so-called father, had hit me the night before, his ring slicing skin.

“You’re useless, Blue,” he’d snarled, his voice sharper than his fist.

“A girl’s only good for paying debts.”

That was me now, p*****t to some mafia guy named Leo Greg, because Dad couldn’t cover his debts. My ribs ached from his belt a few days earlier, but I kept my face blank. I wasn’t crying. I was figuring out how to survive.

I didn’t know much about Leo Greg, just that he was a boss like Dad, probably old, with a cigar and a bad attitude. I pictured him in his sixties, barking orders, like Vincent with fancier suits. Whatever. I’d dealt with Dad my whole life. I could handle another jerk. The driver, a big guy with a scar on his lip, didn’t talk, just drove. I watched the streets, counting turns—left, right, straight. If I had to run, I’d remember the way.

The SUV pulled up to a mansion that looked like a fortress, all black gates and glass walls, right in the middle of Manhattan. Guards stood at the corners, rifles ready. I noticed cameras high up, red lights blinking, watching everything. The driver opened my door.

“Get out,” he growled.

I stepped onto the gravel, my sneakers crunching loudly in the quiet. Servants were everywhere, maids hauling baskets, a guy in a chef’s hat carrying boxes, guards checking earpieces. It was like a machine, everybody moving fast. A maid tripped nearby, spilling rags, and a guard snapped at her to hurry. I took it all in, keeping my expression neutral. This place was a system, and I was just another part.

Inside, the foyer was insane—marble floors, a chandelier that could’ve crushed a car. A woman waited, older, with gray hair pulled back tight and a plain black dress. Her eyes were hard, like she’d seen everything and didn’t care.

“You’re Blue Moore,” she said, her voice sharp.

“I’m Madam Bam.” I run this house.

You’re here to work, not cause trouble. Got it?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, keeping my tone even.

A maid passed, head down, gripping a mop. She was young, maybe my age, with shaky hands. I wondered how long she’d been there, but I didn’t ask. Madam Bam was watching me too close.

“Come on,” she said, turning fast. I followed, my backpack bouncing on my shoulder. The halls were wide, with fancy paintings and more cameras. Servants were all over—two guys cleaning windows, a cook yelling in a kitchen we passed. It was busy, but nobody looked happy. I spotted a lock on a door, the kind that needed a card. It was high-tech for a house, but I didn’t say anything, just filed it away.

Madam Bam stopped at a small door and swiped a card. It opened to a tiny room— a bed, a desk, a window.

“This is yours,” she said.

“You sleep here, eat with the staff, work starts tomorrow.”

I dropped my backpack on the bed. The room was plain, but better than Dad’s place, where I’d locked my door every night.

“What’s the work?” I asked, keeping my voice soft.

She crossed her arms.

“You’ll clean the master’s inner chamber, under me. It’s his private space. You touch nothing I don’t tell you. Break a rule, and you’re gone. Or worse.”

“Got it,” I said. The inner chamber sounded important, probably where he kept his secrets. I wondered what was in there, but I didn’t push.

“What’s the master like? Old guy, like my dad?”

Madam Bam’s eyes flickered, like I’d said something funny.

"The master’s special, you’ll meet him when he’s ready". "Don’t ask dumb questions." She replied.

“Not dumb,” I shrugged. “Just want to know what I’m dealing with.”

She snorted but didn’t answer, waving me out.

“Tour first, you need to know the rules.”

She showed me around, and the place was huge— a dining room with a giant table, a library with books I’d never read, a gym where guards lifted weights. Servants were everywhere, dusting, carrying trays, whispering when they thought nobody had heard. A maid named Rosa dropped a glass in the hall, and it shattered. “Oh no!” she gasped, kneeling to clean it.

“Careful, Rosa,” Madam Bam said, sharp but not mean. I bent down, picking up a shard before Rosa cut herself.

“Thanks,” Rosa whispered, her eyes nervous.

I nodded, handing her the piece. She was scared, like everybody here.

“Keep up,” Madam Bam said, moving on. She pointed out the kitchen, the staff dining room, a locked door with a lion carving.

“That’s the inner chamber,” she said.

“You’ll clean there tomorrow. No bags, no phones, no touching the master’s things. You wear a uniform, follow my orders. Clear?”

“Yeah,” I said, eyeing the door. That lock looked fancy, maybe with a scanner. I didn’t say it out loud.

I wasn’t here to make trouble, just to get by.

“Lots of rules, you run a tight ship," I said quietly.

“Has to be,” she said, looking close at me.

“This house doesn’t run on mistakes.”

“Fair,” I said, giving her a small smile.

“I’m good at following orders.” That was a lie. I’d been dodging Dad’s rules forever, slipping past his tempers and lies. But Madam Bam didn’t need to know that. She led me back to the foyer, pointing out the staff dining room.

“Dinner’s at six. Be there, or you don’t eat. Tomorrow, we start at seven.”

“Got it,” I said, but I was watching a guard scan a badge at a gate. Everything was tracked here. I bet they logged every move.

“Place is locked down tight. "Like a prison.” Madam Bam raised an eyebrow.

“It’s the master’s house. It’s secure. "You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Didn’t say I was worried,” I said quickly, keeping my tone light. Just noticed. It’s… organized.” She studied me, like she was trying to figure me out.

“You’re not crying,” she said, softer. “Most girls would be, coming here like this.

”I shrugged, touching the bruise on my cheek without thinking.

“Crying doesn’t help,” I said. “Learned that a long time ago.”

“What’s that bruise from?” she asked, her voice sharp again.

“My dad,” I said, dropping my hand.

“He’s not big on gentle.” Her lips tightened, but she didn’t say anything, just nodded.

“Get settled. Dinner’s soon.” She walked off, and I headed to my room, passing a cook arguing with a guard about supplies.

The mansion was alive, full of people, but it felt cold, like nobody was really home. I heard a servant mutter about “the master” coming back that night, and my stomach twisted. Leo Greg, another old boss like Vincent. I could deal with him. I’d been outsmarting Dad my whole life, slipping past his fists and his insults. This place was just a new cage, and I was already looking for the key.