Chapter One
Drip, drip, drip.The sound of blood pooling on the concrete floor. It’s rhythmic, soothing even. The air filled with a metallic scent, mixed with piss and cigarette smoke. I step around my plaything, and adrenaline rushesthrough my veins. It’s close to that moment. The moment I claim this asshole’s soul and send it right back to the hellhole he crawled out of.
I’m not supposed to like this as much as I do. On the outside, I’m calm. My thoughts rational and collected. On the inside, I’m amped up, ready to go in for the kill. I need it like I need air. But I can’t let on that I enjoy it too much. If I did that, those around me would look at me differently, would talk to me differently. I’ve seen what happens when even the darkest of the dark stare at you as if you’re a monster.
I see it every time my younger brother comes home. Lex doesn’t hide that part of his soul. He doesn’t have to, because he’s the spare.
Me? I’m the fucking heir. There are expectations that my siblings never had put on them. I’m not even the oldest child. That title goes to my sister, Mabilia. But my father was never going to let his princess take the position. Don’t get me wrong… I wouldn’t let my sister anywhere near this shit either. I will always do whatever I can to shield both of my siblings from the horrors of the world we live in. They’re not completely free of it, though. That would be an impossible feat when you’re mafia royalty times two.
Why times two? Because both sides of the family are big players in the underworld. Here in New York, and over in Italy and Russia.
My father, Mikhail Petrov, current Pakhan of the Petrov Bratva, is one scary son of a bitch, someone most people would cross the street if they saw. One thing they don’t know about my father, though? He has a soft spot. For his family. My mother and us kids are his world.
My mother, Isabella Valentino-Petrov, is the princess of the Donatello Crime Family. My grandfather, Neo Valentino, is theoverlord, so to speak. The boss of bosses. He oversees all five Italian mafia families. He’s also my namesake.
Neo Valentino-Petrov, that’s me. Underboss of the Petrov Bratva. A role I’ve been rehearsing for my entire life. One I fucking wouldn’t give up for the world. I love this job. There isn’t a single thing about it I don’t like.
The blood, give me more. The money, well, there’s no such thing as too much. And the power, it’s addictive. No one fucks with my family, and if they do, they usually end up right here. In my basement. Like the fucker who’s currently hanging from rusty chains and a butcher’s hook.
“You know,” I say, walking around and stopping right in front of his face. “We could have avoided this.”
He tries to lift his head, all of his fight and strength already gone.
“Nothing to say?” I taunt. I’m betting the fact that I’ve already ripped his tongue out of his head is exactly what’s stopping him. “Didn’t think so.”
The knife in my hand twirls through my fingers and then I lash out, slashing his abdomen straight down and back up again, curving the blade around until there is a very clear letter P carved into his flesh. Stepping back, I admire my handiwork, watching the blood pool beneath him.
I could do this for hours, but I can tell this fucker is close to leaving this earth. And I want to be the one to take him.
I fist his hair, lifting his face to where I can see his eyes. He might not be able to speak, but I can read every single thought going through his brain. He’s cursing me out, but then it shifts. Fear. That’s what I want, his fear. My knife slides along his throat. Slowly. No need to rush perfection.
His eyes widen, and I smile back at him. “Next time, don’t play in the sandbox with the big boys.”
Once I get what I need—his death—I wipe my knife on his pants and turn around.
“Make sure he’s sent to his crew. They all need to see what happens to fucking idiots who want to steal from me,” I tell the three soldiers waiting to deal with the body.
“Will do.” One of them nods.
Without another word, I walk out of the basement and head upstairs to my bedroom. Stripping down before I step into the shower. The water at my feet is red. It takes a good thirty minutes to wash that asshole’s blood off me.
I step out of the shower again, to find my phone ringing on the counter, my sister’s name on the screen. “Mabilia,” I answer.
“I need you to come bail me out,” she says.
“Where are you?”
“13thprecinct,” she says.
“Don’t you have a husband for this?” I ask her. My sister’s husband is a fucking idiot, but he loves her and treats her like the fucking princess that she is. He also has money, so I know she’s not calling for the cash.
“Tommy can’t know I’m here,” she whispers. “Please, Neo, tell no one.”
“What are they claiming you did?” I ask as I make my way to my closet. “Obviously you’re innocent of whatever they’re trying to pin on you.”
“Obviously,” she says. “They’re saying I beat a woman to a pulp, smashed her face so bad she needs plastic surgery. I mean, if that were true, they should be thanking me. I did the world a favor by removing her ugly mug and replacing it with an improved version.”
I groan. My sister can fight. Whoever the poor woman is, she had no chance. The fact Mabilia didn’t kill the girl is surprising, though.
