I’ve never considered myself the monogamous type. Settling down with one person, getting married, having babies, the white picket fence—it’s not me. I never acted out weddings with my dolls, never dreamed of white lace or one true love. I’m more of a love-them-and-leave-them-the-next-morning type. But sometimes, late at night, I let myself remember the one man I might have risked it all for. And although I’ll never admit it, watching Tessa and Rebecca be so in love sometimes rears the green-eyed monster, although I push that bitch firmly down. I don’t have time for sentiment and useless wishes.
Pulling myself back to the present, I rip my mask off, a huge grin splitting my face. “Eric, have you turned the extractor fans on? I want to see with my own two eyes that my bastard of a father is dead.”
Tessa nods in agreement. “And I want to tag the wall.” She pulls a can of red spray paint out of her bag, waving it around with a matching grin.
Eric laughs. “Yes, I turned them on. Zip your suits back up and put your masks and gloves on, it’s not safe yet to go in without them.”
We do as he says and then enter the warehouse, waiting while Trey unchains the doors. Luckily, they open outward rather than inward, as bodies spill out that were piled up alongside them. My lips tick up into a smile, taking in the fear frozen on their faces. Trey just kicks them aside, sweeping his arm out in anafter yougesture. We file into the room, snickers sounding out from some of the team over the distorted features of the dead men.
While Tessa heads over to spray paint one of the walls, I start my search, excitement thrumming through my veins as I use my shitkickers to turn them over, examining every face for the familiar one of my father. The Duke stands guard at the door, protecting us from any threats we might have missed, while Rebecca leans a hip against a table, her gaze following Tessa as she spray paints bloody lips on the wall. Ryan, Kian, and Jase lend me a hand, helping to turn bodies over. As I move farther and farther into the warehouse, dread slithers down my spine.
A large rectangular table stands at what could be termed the head of the room. It’s here my father would have been sitting, and yet, he’s nowhere to be found. My feet pick up their pace as I race from one person to the next, the staccato of their movement matching the wild beating of my heart.
Where the fuck is he?
I come to a stuttering halt, whipping around as my thoughts swirl like a hurricane. I’ve checked the whole room. There’s nowhere else to look. The truth stares me in the face, but it won’t compute. My eyes dart wildly as my breaths come in shallow pants. He has to be here.
He isn’t here.
Eric checks the time on his watch, and calls out, “Okay everyone, let’s clear out! I want to get out of here, pronto.”
I storm past Rebecca and Trey angrily, not wanting to believe what my eyes are telling me. The others follow in my wake, soft murmurs and questions rising up behind me as anger and disappointment rush through me. Once we’re well clear of the warehouse, I rip my mask off, tossing it onto the ground with a screech. My shoulders are tense, eyes narrowed as I look at everyone surrounding me. Nate, Eric, Tessa, The Duke and her men, Rebecca, Trey, Ryan, Kian, and Jase. They fan out around me, forming a semi-circle, eyeing me with confusion, most likely wondering why I look like I’m about to murder someone, instead of cheering that the bastard is dead.
One thought keeps swirling over and over in my head. It’s all-consuming, and I can’t dismiss it, no matter how hard I try. He was supposed to be here. Eric and Trey confirmed he was on his flight; airport security cameras at both JFK in New York and London Heathrow showed him departing and arriving. He made it to London.
The only way he wouldn’t be here, at this critical meeting—is if there is a mole in our group. I surreptitiously eye each one, wondering who it could be. The one thing I can’t do right now is give away my suspicions. It could be anyone. I don’t want to believe that it could be the Bannermans, but I’ve only known them for a few weeks. The Duke too—would she really do that? It doesn’t seem like her style. Rebecca hasn’t been here long enough, and out of everyone here, there’s no way she would side with Vincenzo, not after the life she’s led. Trey would lie down and die for her, so he’s out as well.
Which leaves the Charon Group. They’ve only been here a few days, after all, and owe none of us their loyalty. Sucking my bottom lip into my mouth, I let out a heavy breath through my nostrils, trying to calm the rage that is flooding my system like a forest fire, hell-bent on destroying everything in its path. It doesn’t work, and I stomp my foot like a naughty two-year-old, feeling like I might just go mad from the unfairness of it all.
It was supposed to be over today.
“What’s wrong?” Kian steps toward me reluctantly, his blond hair winking in the sun.
“He’s not there!” I scream back at him, hands fisting in my hair as I spin around. “That fucking fucker wasn’t in the warehouse. I checked every single one.” Everyone freezes at my words.
“Are you sure you didn’t overlook him?” Nate asks, and I turn on him with a scowl.
“Yes, I’m fucking sure. I know what my father looks like, Nate. Fuck!” Spinning around, I punch the van parked behind me, needing to release the frustration before it consumes me entirely. Pain radiates up my arm, and I hop around with a yelp, shaking out my hand. Kian grabs it in his big hands, gently manipulating it, checking for breaks while I hiss at the contact. Jase’s arm comes across my shoulders, whispering comforting words in my ear. The deep bass of his voice soothes the inferno raging inside me, fluttering out, turning toward despair.
My helpful brain chooses that moment to toss a picture of my mother’s grave before my eyes, and all I can think is that I have let her down. Again. Vincenzo, as usual, is just one step ahead of me.
I can’t do this. I can’t do this alone.
Just as that thought rushes through me, Rebecca steps forward, a look of determination on her face. “We’ll help you. Trey and I will have your back, help you destroy him and the kingdom he’s built.”
Hope. It’s such a dangerous thing. But it’s there, a tiny spark that I must nurture into a roaring flame. My heart thuds at her words, my lips pulling up into a slight smile that grows bigger as one by one, the others step forward, vowing to help me take down the man that ruined me, killed my mother, and destroyed the lives of thousands of women.
We’re coming for you.
Chapter 2
Vincenzo Gianelli
Isipthecoolchampagne, letting the bubbles slide down my throat as my gaze drifts over the warehouse. I curve my mouth into a satisfied grin, my chest puffing out in pride over my achievements.
My family began small, starting off in drugs before moving on to weapons, and then to women. It’s amazing how much a fourteen-year-old virgin can go for—especially a pretty white one. The Middle East especially seems to crave them and are our biggest clients. Slowly at first, then with a startlingly quickened pace, our family rose up to become the most powerful in New York, followed quickly by the entire East Coast. The Midwest fell with barely a whimper not long after, helped in part by a temporary truce with the Martinellis, a sufficiently powerful family based in Chicago. I’ve got fingers in pies all over the States though, and I'm working on spreading farther west, until it is all under my control.
The others—the Mexicans, the Russians—in time they will fall before me, one by one, until each bends a knee and kisses my ring.
