The mafia is a plague. A darkness I know intimately. After all, my uncle is the head of the Irish mob.
My husband, the second-in-command of Chicago.
My best friend, the head of the Conte family.
No, the plague has been woven in the marrow of my bones since I was crafted of stardust. It should come as no surprise that I am left with nothing more than ruin amongst the rubble, once more.
I hate him. I 𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦 him.
I despise that a pale blue strip of satin, wrapped around folded letters, holds more weight than a vow whispered before God as Irish gold slipped over my knuckle.
I am reduced to nothing more than a woman, with tattered wings, clinging to a paper ring.
The Monarch by Nova Nox is book two of the Queen of Alchemy duet, a dark-ish mafia romance where the women lead the mafias, the men are devoted to them, and the legacies written by bloodlines are not the ones always meant to be followed
