Violent Heart

A Death So Sweet: Book Three

Candace Wondrak

© 2021 Candace Wondrak

All Rights Reserved.

Book cover by Melony Paradise at Paradise Cover Design – Premade Book Covers Group

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Books by Candace Wondrak are only available at Amazon. If you are reading elsewhere, please note it is an illegal, pirated copy, uploaded without my permission. I, the author, nor the distributor received payment for the copy, and if prosecuted violation comes with a fine of up to $250,000. Please do not pirate books.

Chapter One – Lola

Chapter Two – Lola

Chapter Three – Sylvester

Chapter Four – Lola

Chapter Five – Viper

Chapter Six – Lola

Chapter Seven – Maddox

Chapter Eight – Lola

Chapter Nine – Viper

Chapter Ten – Lola

Chapter Eleven – Lola

Chapter Twelve – Lola

Chapter Thirteen – Lola

Chapter One – Lola

Everyone steered clear of me on the streets, and that was exactly how things should be. No one should get within a few inches of me, their eyes eating me up like I was a piece of meat. No one should dare to look me up and down as if I was placed on this earth for them. I wasn’t. I was Lola fucking Harding, and I was here for no one.

Of course, people were staring at me, but they gave me a wide berth as they did so, so opposite what usually happened to such a pretty face like mine. It might be because my feet were bare; I had no heels, no shoes. Not even any socks. My soles were rubbed raw a bit, after using them bare on the concrete sidewalk, but I couldn’t feel the pain.

If you knew me by now, you’d know I didn’t really feel pain. Not in the sense that it hurt me, stopped me from whatever it was I was doing, or taught me a lesson. No, pain and I went way back, and honestly, I had gotten used to it. After drowning in so much agony and misery growing up, a gal kinda got used to feeling like she wanted to die, you know?

That electric chair… oh, God, what I wouldn’t give to go back to a simpler time, when I wasn’t stuck between two warring mafia families, when all I wanted, when all I dreamed about, was getting caught and dying in one of the most public ways possible.

I was a serial killer, in case you forgot. The Night Slayer. A girl who hopped from club to club and bar to bar and went on the hunt, turned things around on the men.

Boo-fucking-hoo. Men had it good. They had it so good in this world they could pretty much get away with anything, and I was sick and tired of it… and that was another reason why everyone on the sidewalk halted in their tracks and hurried to move out of my way as I walked through the city’s streets on this fine, cool morning.

I was covered in blood. The dress I wore was no longer elegant and refined-looking; it was a homage to what I was, a canvas that had been painted with a dark maroon. Still wet, too. Not dried. It was all so recent.

Everything was.

The lights were dark, but they flashed every few seconds, blinding if you stared directly into them. Multi-colored, they were reflected in the mirrors and glass on the walls near the bar, on all the sequins and fake jewels on the clubbers’ clothes. So many people were here to dance the night away, get wasted and hook up, and I…

Well, I could hardly remember why I was here, how I got here. All I knew was that the night was winding down, so I had to make a move if I wanted to make this night special.

The heels I wore clicked with every step I made, not that you could hear them over the music—the music was so loud and deafening in the club, you could feel the beat in your bones and your soul. If you had a soul, that was. Me? I’d lost mine a long time ago, but we already knew that, didn’t we?

Yes, yes we did. We knew I was a soulless, sick thing. We all knew I was a girl that needed some help. A whole lot of it. All the therapists and drugs in the world, though, could not undo what had been done to me all those years ago.

As I thought about it, as I danced and surveyed the club for my next target, I couldn’t help but laugh. It was a diabolical sound, a mad giggle, or at least I assumed it was, since I couldn’t hear myself over the music. The laugh of someone who was completely and irrevocably insane, someone who didn’t give a shit.

Because he was back. Because he was here. Because… because everything had gone to shit in one night, and it was all because of me.

I could’ve gone back. I could’ve told the Lucianos all about what Bianca DeLuca had told me, what she wanted me to do—hell, I could’ve gone to the Lucianos and done exactly what she wanted me to, too. I could’ve killed both Maddox and Sylvester, and neither one of them would’ve seen it coming.

But I couldn’t. As broken and as fucked up as I was, I couldn’t kill the men who’d brought me back to life. I couldn’t kill them, not after everything we’d been through, not after they’d made me theirs so frequently and violently. They were men after a heart, after a love that could not exist. Surely they knew that?

Viper and Mike, Roman and Carter and their girl—who knew what happened to them. It’d been a, what did that bastard say? A three-pronged attack? It wasn’t just me they wanted to steal. They wanted to hurt the Lucianos while also getting me alone, and what better way than to hurt Carter’s girl?

I felt kind of bad, but me feeling bad didn’t really say much. I always felt bad, you see. I hardly ever felt good. The only time I felt truly good was when I was with one of them. Maddox, Sylvester, even Viper. And now… now all that was over.

It was. I knew it was. There was no way they would ever take me back, no fucking way they’d let me walk into their home as if I’d never left. Not after meeting Bianca. Not after learning the truth.

And the truth? It was messy. I was used to messy truths after my childhood, but the water here was murky and muddy. Bianca had a sister, and she was Maddox’s mother. Bianca had orchestrated her death, just as she was behind getting Tony to convince me to poison her father. The Bloody Princess had earned her name, truly.

I should’ve killed her, but everything had come as a shock to me, so I did little more than sit there and listen to her, let her threaten me with helplessness. As if the bitch thought she could threaten me, me, a goddamned serial killer, into doing her bidding. She and I could have a wonderful partnership, sure, if I laid down like a dog and did as she wanted, whenever she wanted.

I wouldn’t. I refused. And, like I mentioned before, I should’ve stuck a knife in that bitch’s stomach and watched her squirm.

Who did I blame for my lack of action? Not myself, because hello, I was never to blame for anything. Duh. No, the person I mostly blamed for my zoning in and out was the traitor. The traitor and his hands, among other things. Hands which I so desperately wanted to see again, if only so I could cut them off and make it so they never touched anyone ever again.

Hated hands, I really did. I hated them all. The things hands could get away with… they were not like dicks. They weren’t tucked away at most times, forgotten about. No, hands were always there, always visible, and they always had a way of lying to you.

Speaking of…

Two strong hands found their way to my sides as an equally strong body slipped behind me, grinding against me. I’d long since gotten rid of the gloves I’d worn, and I knew the dress on my body was just a bit too fancy for a club like this, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. It wasn’t like I had a full wardrobe to choose from. Not right now. Right now, I was on my own, as if time itself had rewound and plopped me back into my hunting days.

Back to the good ole days when I hated men and everything they stood for, because they could get away with it all. Who believed the victim? Who believed the ones meant to protect the little girls of the world only ended up hurting them? No one wanted to face the truth, so I did. I faced the truth, held it before my victims, and then listened to them drown in their own blood.

It was a sight to see, trust me. You didn’t live until you watched someone die, all the while knowing that the world would be a better place without them in it.

I’d been in the club a while, got a few drinks from some men who were trying to get lucky. I had the drunk girl act down pat by now, having practiced it for so long. When you did nothing but put on a show for other people, you tended to be a great actress. I owed that to my lovely parents, I suppose, so thank you, Mommy and Daddy.

Thank you and fuck you.

With the stranger’s hands on my sides, I tried losing myself to the rhythm while keeping myself just a hair unsteady and off-beat. Just a few seconds slow, enough to let the man behind me believe I was almost done partying for the night and that tomorrow’s hangover would be legendary.

My mind blocked everything out as I thought: he’s here.

Well, not here here, but the bastard was in town. I’d seen him. I’d spoken to him. I’d… let’s just say I hadn’t done nearly enough. I didn’t do anything. Even after all this time, it would seem Aiden Harding still had power over me, as pathetic as it was. And it was pretty damn pathetic.

After everything that monster had done to me, under his blue-eyed stare, I still felt like the little girl who didn’t dare scream at night, because it was pointless. My parents never came to my aid, they never helped me. In fact, they thought taking me to a doctor and having him sterilize me was helping me, the twisted fucks.

I was too crazy for kids, I know. I wouldn’t make a good mother. If I could have children, I would be deathly fearful of being a worse mother than my own was. There was no way in hell I would ever trust myself with the well-being of a child.

But that wasn’t the point. It wasn’t ever the point. The point was, that should never have happened to me. My parents knew what my brother was doing to me, and they should’ve helped me. They should’ve stopped him. Would’ve, could’ve, should’ve. Indeed, they should have done all those things, because now they were dead.

Ugh, fuck them. Fuck my brother. Fuck Tony. Fuck every single man who thought he had the right to put his hands on me and his dick inside of me because I had a pretty face. Fuck this fucking face and the big blue eyes on it that seemed to be an open invitation for the sleazebags of the world. I was so tired of all of it.

I turned around, grinding against the man’s front, finding that my new dance partner was a rather tall fellow. I stared at his chest, at his Adam’s apple and the way it bobbed up and down with each swallow. He wasn’t exactly my kind of attractive, but he wasn’t bad. His dick was semi-hard after dancing with me, so I figured he was just waiting for what he thought was a signal from me.

A few more songs, a harder cock… we danced until the club closed down and everyone who was left was pushed outside by the bouncers. By that time, the man had his arm around me, helping to keep me steady as we walked down the sidewalk, away from the club’s doors.

“You parked around here?” he asked.

I shook my head, taking a bit of a stumble on my heels as I said, hiccupping first, “I took the bus.”

“I could take you home, if you want—”

My eyebrows furrowed, and I tried to push the confusion away. That wasn’t right. He was supposed to take me back to his place so I could kill him. Didn’t he know how this was supposed to work?

I turned my head up at him, leaning my head on the arm he had wrapped around me. “Why don’t we go back to your place?”

The man, who must’ve been around my age, looked like he was unsure, which I found strange. Was my act not good enough tonight? Had tonight gone wrong? With everything else that had happened tonight, it wouldn’t surprise me, but come on. I wanted this. I needed this. Trust me, if there was one thing in the world I needed, it was to feel the smug satisfaction that only came with watching a douchebag die and his blood fill his sheets.

“I have roommates…” He started, trailing off shortly after, as if the fact that he had roommates killed whatever was between us.

Roommates, huh? Hmm. While I normally liked to be alone with my prey, perhaps him having roommates would make tonight a bit more fun. More of a challenge. Maybe it would help me forget how I got here in the first place.

And by that, I meant who I was with before, whose face I’d stared at for the first time in years, a face I had never wanted to see again. A face that knew what I did, what he did, and was totally unapologetic.

Oh, yes, seeing my brother had pushed me off the deep end, I was afraid. What Tony did led me to the edge, and Aiden pushed me over it without hesitation. I was falling, falling so hard and so fast into a pit of pure blackness, and I feared I would never see the surface again, never find my way out. I would forever be locked in this place, in this dark, dank place in my head, where all I wanted to do was find a release that was impossible for me to attain.

Peace. I could never have peace.

I set a hand on the man’s chest, purring out, “I don’t care.”

And that was that. Whatever doubt I had about this guy faded; it sure didn’t take much to convince him to take me home, wherever home was. My conscience, how little and bleak it was, would be clear.

He led me to his car, which was parked across the street, helping me into the passenger’s side before getting in. A regular car, not something anyone with money would have, which was good. No more killing the sons of high-profile families. Not me, anyway. Someone else could take up that mantle while I reveled in the people who didn’t have money flowing out of their assholes.

I was glad to see the scenery morph from the downtown flashy buildings to a more homey district, a place where the houses were not three or more stories, where their yards were not acres upon acres surrounded by high stone walls and wrought iron gates. Just a normal neighborhood. Very average.

Not once in my life had I ever known average anything. Being a Harding, things were kind of stacked against me from the beginning.

He pulled into a driveway, parking behind two other cars that held quite a bit of rust on them. He looked almost sheepish as he glanced at me. “This is home,” he said. “My roommates are probably asleep.”

“Do you go out clubbing by yourself often…” I let my voice stop, and when he told me his name—Nick—I decided I didn’t like it. He would be dubbed Dickless No. 2. Not too creative, I know, but I was rather fond of Dickless No. 1 and what killing him had done for me.

Who knew? Maybe after killing this guy, other cool things would happen. Like, suddenly I wouldn’t be so psychotic anymore. A gal could hope, right?

“I actually lost a bet with them. I don’t really get out much. They told me I couldn’t leave the club until it shut down…” He stopped himself from saying anything more, as if he thought he was digging himself into his own grave. He was; he just didn’t know it.

“Your friends weren’t there,” I reminded him. “How would they know if you left the club early and went somewhere else?” Like a restaurant or a bar or something. But the more I looked at him, the more I realized neither of those places was Dickless No. 2’s kind of place. He was cute, yes, but he was kind of a nerdy cute, if you know what I mean. Nowhere near Sylvester or Maddox’s sexiness… or Viper—

Fuck, no. I shouldn’t be thinking about any of them. Get them outta your mind, Lola, and get them out now. They are the last people you should be thinking of, after everything. Do you think they’ll want you back after what happened? It was all because of you, because Bianca wanted you. Don’t be an idiot.

A great pep talk, huh?

Dickless No. 2 laughed quietly, and we both got out of the car, walking towards the front door as he fumbled with a key in his pocket. His erection had since disappeared, but it wouldn’t take much from me to make it come back, I knew. “I’m not really a liar—” This time he abruptly stopped, meaning it was time to tell him my name.

“Dolly.” I decided to use my stage name from the Gilded Rose, not wanting to be Lola right now. The Night Slayer, yes, but Lola? Nah. That bitch could stay hidden for a while.

The smile he gave me then was sheepish and innocent, and as I watched him unlock the front door to the house he and his roommates surely rented, I was frozen for a few moments, wondering if I should leave. If I’d made a mistake. If, somehow, Dickless No. 2 didn’t deserve the havoc I would wreak upon him shortly.

He seemed kind enough, but I knew men enough to know that their kindness always came with a price. Surely he was acting so kind and soft-spoken because he wanted something from me. I… I didn’t know what I would do if he wasn’t trying to get a little action. But then, I supposed, it would be too late, so what would it matter?

Guilt. Guilt wasn’t something I ever felt, so I didn’t have to worry.

No lights were on inside the house. It was a pitch-black place, a small two-story home full of old furniture and pictures on the walls that I couldn’t quite see through the darkness. It looked like a cheap, old house a group of college students were renting because they couldn’t afford anything else.

Maybe that’s what this guy was. Maybe he was in his last year of study. Maybe he was applying for graduate school or something. Maybe he would make a life for himself that was worlds better than the fate I had in store for him tonight.

Too bad, so sad. He wouldn’t be getting it anymore. Not with me here.

“Do you want anything to eat or—” He started to say, stopping when he saw me shake my head yet again in the darkness.

“No, but I am interested in seeing your room.” A lie. I didn’t want to see this guy’s room, didn’t want to do anything with him. Hadn’t my body been used enough in the last twenty-four hours? Fuck. It was like this night would never end. It was the literal ass-crack of dawn, the hours before the sun rose in the east, and yet the night still stretched on indefinitely.

Tonight was a night for mistakes and regrets, I guess. Why not go for the home run?

He gave me a sheepish look, and soon enough we were tiptoeing upstairs. I’d taken off my heels at the front door at his insistence, leaving them near the pile of shoes that I assumed belonged to his roommates.

One by one we went up the stairs, and I memorized my way back down, where the kitchen was. God, it’d been so long since I’d held a knife in my hands, so fucking long since I did what I wanted to do. The Lucianos had kept me so close that I’d lost all sense of self.

Dickless No. 2 walked into the room at the far end of the hall. We passed two other rooms with shut doors, where his roommates must be, fast asleep. I stopped beneath the door frame, my lower face itching.

The mask. I was subconsciously missing the metal mask Sylvester had gotten made for me, the one I wore to all of the jobs, at least when I wasn’t stuck on stage, singing and putting on a show.

The fucking mask. I wished I had it, that I could’ve taken it somehow. Now, I’d never see that mask again, because if I did… well, they’d either kill me or shut me out after what happened. If Mike and Viper were dead because of me, there was no forgiving that. If Carter and Roman’s girl was hurt because of me, my time in this world was ticking. No, I honestly believed I would never see that beautiful, hand-crafted mask ever again.

A pity. It was the best battle armor I could ever have wanted. It didn’t protect any vital organs, no—but what it did do was hide my pretty face and strike fear into anyone who looked at me. The mask did what a few gallons of blood could do, only it was a lot cleaner.

Dickless No. 2 had turned his light on, and he’d finally noticed that I didn’t follow him into his room. He stood near the bed, turning to face me, his expression soft and full of concern. “Are you okay? We don’t—we don’t have to do anything—” He fumbled with his words, and as he did so, I studied the room.

Clothes everywhere. It was a mess. What I imagined a room for a college student would be, or someone who just recently graduated. He had a TV on his dresser, along with pictures of what I assumed was his family on his nightstand.

I met his worried eyes, and for a moment, I was taken back, back to a time that wasn’t so long ago, a time that had me face to face with someone I never wanted to see, not ever again. My breath caught in the back of my throat, and I fought the familiar feeling that crept up my spine and invaded my lungs.

Stifling. Choking. No amount of air could put me at ease.

“Can I use your bathroom?” I managed to say, sounding hardly like myself at all. Not the Lola Harding I was, nor the Dolly Queen I was pretending to be. I sounded like a little girl who was deathly afraid of what would come next.

“Uh, sure, it’s—”

“I saw it,” I said. “I’ll be right back.” I said nothing else, turning on my bare feet as I moved through the dark hall. As I went, Dickless No. 2 angled his door shut, closing off some of the light from the hall, maybe to not wake his friends. Who knew? All I knew was that when I reached the bathroom door, I wasn’t going in.

Oh, I’d flip on the light and shut the door, so it looked like I was inside, but I wasn’t actually going in there.

When the light was on, with my hand on the doorknob, I tossed a glance over my shoulder, just to make sure Dickless No. 2 wasn’t looking. He wasn’t, so I shut the door and went down the stairs, past his roommate’s rooms. My feet drew me to the kitchen, and now my eyes had become more used to the darkness.

Their kitchen was a mess. The sink was full of dishes, and I assumed it was due to the fact that this house had no dishwasher. Ugh, how miserable. That was one modern convenience that I would never go without, not if I could help it.

They didn’t have a knife block with a multitude of knives sticking out, so I had to go searching, being as quiet as I could. Quiet like a fucking mouse. After some searching in a few drawers, I found the silverware one, where they kept their mismatched knives as well. None of them looked particularly sharp or new—in fact, some of them had rust on them, which told me they were cheap as hell—but I pulled out the sharpest-looking one.

It would do.

And, anyway, as long as you stabbed in the right place, you could cut someone up with nearly anything.

Gripping the semi-rusted handle of the knife, I pushed out of the kitchen and started up the stairs again. From what I saw, the upstairs was where the bedrooms were, while the downstairs was pretty much just the kitchen and living room. It wasn’t a big house; it was small and cramped, full of shit.

Now, I know what you might be thinking, so let me put your goodie little two shoe mind at ease: I wasn’t going to kill Dickless No. 2. No, I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. The bastard seemed too nice, and after the night I had, I was not quite myself. My hunter radar must’ve been broken after everything, so instead of killing Dickless No. 2, I was going to do him a favor and kill his roommates instead.

Surely that would make him happy, right? Surely it would free him from something or other. And, if it didn’t, oh well. At least I didn’t meet his roommates at the club. At least I didn’t know if they were good people or not. They’d be sleeping, and then they’d be dead. Simple as that.

It took me but a moment to reach the first doorway, and with the knife in one hand, I quietly opened the door and went inside.

You know what happened after that, right?

You… you don’t? Well, I suppose I could explain how I went in and sliced the neck of the dude sleeping in that room. I could explain how the moonlight streamed through the curtains hanging over the window, how it gave me just enough light to see the blood oozing from the deep wound. He may have locked eyes with me, but by the time he realized what was happening, it was too late. I got that important artery, and he bled out shortly after that, his bed stained with the red stuff.

Me, too. His blood had squirted out in a fountain of gore, gushing and spraying me, coating my chest and my arms with the wet, warm stuff. I couldn’t help but smile down at him, silently cooing to him as he breathed his last breath, pointlessly struggling even though his strength was gone almost immediately.

That was blood loss for you.

When he was dead, I went to his other roommate’s room, my feet moving silently across the carpet.

Again, I was an angel of death. Again, I gave his roommate a sweet, semi-painful death. This one, I noticed after his eyes opened, had blue eyes. In the darkness, their color was almost like my brother’s. Such a pretty hue, so similar to mine.

He tried to scream, and even though it was too late, even though his neck had already been cut, I held a hand over his mouth, leaping onto the bed and straddling him, holding his head still. He was weak, he would die in seconds, and yet those fucking blue eyes kept staring at me.

Me. Me, me, me. It was always me, but why? Why the fuck couldn’t it be someone else for a change?

My mind made no sense, and even though the action only got me messier, I brought the bloodied knife down to the man’s chest, stabbing him in the heart over and over—much like I did to my father years ago. Stupid eyes. Stupid hands. Stupid people who thought they owned the world.

Thought they owned me.

But no one could own me, and I would make damned sure the world knew I would have no leash. And if I did, if I went back to the Lucianos and they miraculously took me back into their chaotic fold, it was only because I wanted it, because I desired their control and their leash. There was a key difference there, clearly. Fucking consent.

Consent was such a hard thing for people to grasp these days. Everyone was an asshole of their own making. No one was nice anymore. No one but Dickless No. 2. Why, oh why couldn’t he just be another prick? Why couldn’t he think with his dick instead of sounding so gentle and easygoing?

Now his roommates were dead, and it was all because he’d brought me home.

The guy in the sheets below me was long dead, his chest torn up with my knife. Blood had gotten everywhere on me, and I let my shoulders slump as I yanked out the knife. His body jerked, his eyes stuck open, pupils dilated. He definitely pissed himself, but the air was too full of the metallic twang of blood for me to notice.

I took my time in sliding off his body, tripping somewhat as I landed on the floor. I still held onto the knife as I entered the hall, too lost in my own head to realize the light had been flicked on by someone other than me.

“What the…” Dickless No. 2’s voice came from near his room, and I turned my head to see him standing there, mouth agape, watching me with eyes ridiculously wide.

I gave him a smile, a smile I was certain looked quite crazy, and said, “You might want to call the police.” I said nothing else, and for a moment, we simply stared at each other. It was like he was afraid to break eye contact with me, lest I decide to lunge at him and kill him next.

Nah. I’d gotten enough blood tonight, I think.

Just to prove to him that I wasn’t planning on it, I dropped the knife. It fell to the carpet below, adding to its many stains by splattering droplets of blood as it collided with it. Still smiling, I said nothing, turning away from him and walking down the stairs. I didn’t plan on being here when the police came, you see. Nah, that wasn’t my jam. I wasn’t going to make it easy for them to catch the Night Slayer.

If they wanted me, they’d have to figure out just who the fuck I was. As far as I was concerned, I’d made it easy for them. No wig tonight, and I wore the same dress I’d worn to the Gilded Rose’s opening night. My fingerprints were everywhere, as they usually were, and this time there was a witness who was still alive.

Like, come on. They had to catch me after this one.

If the police had me, Bianca couldn’t get her claws into me, and my brother… even Harding money couldn’t pay for bail for a fucking serial killer. People like me were a menace to society, a danger, and we were locked up and never let out.

A part of me thought Dickless No. 2 would prove his name wrong and take the knife and try to stop me, try to kill me or something for what I did to his roommates—and also probably his friends. You didn’t live with people you hated.

But he didn’t. He didn’t stop me, nor did he call out for me. I bet, once I was out of sight, he went straight for his phone and was currently calling all the emergency services that could come. The police, ambulances, the whole nine yards. In the end, it wouldn’t matter. Poor Dickless No. 2 didn’t yet realize his roommates were deader than a doornail.

Or doornails, plural? Ah, you know what, I don’t even know, because I don’t understand that saying at all. Sue me.

I walked out of the house, barefoot, not bothering to stop and pick up my heels. I walked out of that house covered in blood that wasn’t mine, grinning a psychotic grin, and for just a split-second, I forgot the night’s previous events, forgot the reason why I was here in the first place.

Chapter Two – Lola

But, you see, I can’t really forget it forever. Reality would come crashing down on me eventually, so it was why I was purposefully walking on streets that had cameras. Streets that had other people walking in the early dawn hours—the people who had to wake up and go a job at the ass crack of dawn but needed their fix of coffee first.

Oh, yes. Everyone steered clear of the girl drenched in blood. I actually walked quite far, for so long the sun was starting to come up, for God’s sake. Like, did anyone bother calling the police, or was a pretty girl wearing red just a normal occasion for this fucking city?

Eh, probably the latter, with how much of the city the DeLucas and Lucianos owned. Like, all of it. Even the police were in one pocket or another. I supposed attracting attention was the stupidest thing I could do, but at this point, what did it matter? All the running I’d done was for nothing, because my brother was here.

He was here, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

And Tony… I shouldn’t feel betrayed, but I did. I was stupid, I’d been so fucking stupid for believing he was different. I couldn’t even say why I felt like that, I just did. Tony had the game memorized; he knew what to say and how to say it to get you to do whatever he wanted. Manipulative little cur. I hated him almost as much as I hated my brother.

And that was saying something, trust me.

I eventually came upon a quaint little park area, where the flashy buildings of the city gave way to greenery and trees. With the sun rising in the distance, the sky was a watercolor of pinks and oranges, and I reveled in how empty the park was. No people nearby, none walking their dogs before work or getting an early-morning workout. Just me.

Finding a bench, I sat down, facing the road. This way, I’d see whatever came for me. Whoever came, I mean. Whether it was the police or someone else, did it really matter? They would come, for I’d walked by dozens of people and cars. So many eyes had seen a pretty blonde girl covered in blood.

Tick, tock went the clock. I tilted my head upwards, humming to myself, a faint smile on my lips. Someone would come. I knew they would. You didn’t walk through a city while drenched in blood and not hear sirens eventually. That, or have a gun pulled on you.

Oh, how fun that would be, huh? I wondered what it felt like to be shot. I’d felt so many things in my life, so the possibility of being shot was more of a curiosity than anything else. Yeah, yeah, we already knew I was fucked up. Moving on.

I thought back as I lowered my gaze to my hands, which sat on my lap. Palms up, fingers outstretched, they were bloodied hands, the one a bit scarred up from my freak-out session in the bathroom at the Luciano house, but all in all, they were pretty, dainty hands, covered in blood as they were.

Why wasn’t I strong enough to act? I had a shot, had a clean shot. I had quite possibly the only chance I’d ever have, and I let it slip through these fingers like my chance was nothing but air, ungraspable. I was a fool, a fool who was nowhere near as strong as she thought she was.

I was weak. So very weak.

Weak and stupid, because I knew since I didn’t act, history would find a way of repeating itself, and when it came to my history, none of it was good. You’d think I would’ve known by now to act, to do something, but when the moment came, when I had a clean shot at him, I froze. I choked up. I acted like the me of ten years ago instead of the me I knew today. God, I was so pathetic.

Even though it was the last thing I wanted to remember, I pictured him.

I’d just walked out of the hotel, just left the gaudy and shiny place full of lights, and I’d rammed myself into a stranger’s chest. At least, until I laid eyes on him, I’d thought he was a stranger.

He wasn’t, though. He was the very opposite of a stranger, so familiar to me it was like a weird sense of deja vu had swept over me, devouring me whole.

His arms had shot out, hands gripping me to help steady me. Maybe he’d thought I was a stranger too, a stranger who wasn’t looking where I was going. It didn’t take too long for him to realize that I was not just a random blonde girl wearing a fancy dress. I was his dear sister.

Aiden Harding’s blue eyes widened somewhat, his grip firm on my arms as his lips slowly curled into a smile. The night’s wind ruffled his short blonde hair, a shade darker than mine. He was tall, thicker than I remembered him being. The nose that used to seem a size too big for him, he’d grown into these past few years.

He no longer looked like a rich, spoiled boy. He looked like a haughty, smug, rich man.

“Lola,” he spoke, drawing out my name almost excessively, as if he couldn’t believe I was here. “Sister, how I’ve missed you.”

I said nothing, because there was nothing to say. Perhaps he had missed me, or rather, missed the nights when he would sneak across the hall and slither his way into my bed, put his hands on my mouth and tell me through whispers that everything was okay, that he loved me, that he needed me.

They would’ve been sweet words, had they come from another lover, but from my brother? They were ugly, hideous words that still haunted me to this day.

And his hands. God, his fucking hands felt even stronger than they did before. How was that possible?

Actually, no. Scratch that. How was any of this possible? The mere fact that Aiden was here, so far from home, coming to the exact hotel I was leaving after I happened to stumble upon it after basically being kidnapped… I mean, what were the odds? Literally, tell me the fucking odds, because I bet it was pretty damn astronomical.

Or was it miniscule? Whatever.

My tongue refused to work. I could say nothing, only stare up at him and blink as if I was currently laying eyes on a ghost. He might as well be. I wished he was. My baby brother, here. This could not be happening.

But it was. It was happening, and with everything else that had already taken place earlier tonight, I could feel what little grip of my sanity I had left slipping away. This was crazy. This was… fuck. What was I going to do?

What would he do? Would he try dragging me back home? Would he want to have me locked up in some asylum or something because of what I’d done to our parents? He had to know it was me; why else would I have disappeared the same night my parents were killed? It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out.

“What?” he spoke when I could not, after a hard minute had passed between us. “You don’t seem happy to see me.” The way he said it, as if he just could not understand why it would be I wasn’t thrilled to see his face here. He would never admit to any wrongdoing. In his eyes, nothing he’d ever done to me was bad or wrong.

Yeah, everyone in my family was fucked up. I definitely didn’t come from the sanest of stock.

“Aiden,” I finally was able to take control of my tongue, feeling my skin starting to itch, especially where he touched me, where he held onto me, seemingly refusing to let go. Now that he had me… would he ever let me go again? “What… what are you doing here?” My voice came out sounding strange, weak. I didn’t sound like myself at all, not like the Lola Harding that had earned herself the name of the Night Slayer.

I sounded like a tiny, terrified little girl.

He chuckled, and the sound was like a knife drawing up my spine, delicately cutting into my skin just enough to prickle but not enough to scar. “Come on, don’t act like you don’t know.” He was so confident in everything he said, and all I could do was blink at him and wonder what the fuck he was talking about.

“I—”

I didn’t get the chance to say anything else, mostly because he started to drag me toward the hotel I’d just left. I let him. I didn’t fight him. Stupid, stupid. I was shell-shocked, frozen, unable to stand up for myself and tell my brother to go fuck off. If I was the me of late, I would’ve kicked him in the balls, taken off my heel, and stabbed him in the neck.

But that Lola was gone, replaced by a slightly dissociating girl.

This didn’t feel real. None of this felt real. Surely this had to be some twisted dream of mine, a nightmare that refused to end? Tonight wasn’t pulling any punches, not holding anything back, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I would ever see Maddox or Sylvester or Viper ever again.

I felt trapped. I felt like I was being led back into the viper’s den, and I would never be able to find my way out again. It’d been a miracle I’d escaped the first time, but to do it a second time? I didn’t have that kind of luck.

Everything was like a blur. Aiden led me back into the gaudy hotel, right to the elevator. Other people tried to get on with us, but he didn’t hold the door for them; he did the close door button, shutting it right in their faces, earning us some annoyed words from them. His hands had long since fallen off my arms, but he instead gripped one of my hands, his fingers tight on mine.

I wanted to shove him aside, wanted to yank my hand out of his and get an acid wash for it. It might burn off some skin, but hey, any skin that Aiden touched didn’t belong on my body anymore. If there was one thing I wanted to be free of, it was him.

So that just made tonight one hell of a sucky night, huh?

“Were you waiting for me?” Aiden spoke, eyes on me the whole time as we rode up to the top floor of the hotel. Only the best, fanciest room for a Harding, after all. Should’ve known a place like this would only hold misery for me. I never should’ve stepped foot in this hotel’s lobby. “Did you get my call?”

I could do nothing but stare at him… and imagine cutting his face off, peeling off the top layer of flesh bit by bit until he was as ugly on the surface as he was underneath.

“I’ve been trying to reach you for years, Lola,” he said, giving me a smile as he lifted my hand and placed a kiss upon my knuckles, like he was my long-lost prince or something. “I’ve been searching for you forever, it feels like.”

And yet here we were. Forever was not long enough.

The elevator doors slid open, and we walked out. He led me to his room; there weren’t many rooms on the top floor of the hotel, mostly because they were giant penthouse suites. With his free hand, he reached for the keycard in his pocket, and in the next moment, we were inside his room.

A huge, fancy place with multiple rooms and giant windows overlooking the city around us. We were higher than most of the neighboring buildings. It would’ve been a pretty sight, had I been here with literally anyone else. But I was with Aiden.

I was with my brother, the fucker. I still couldn’t believe it. My mind was having the damnedest time processing that particular bit of information. It felt like a computer that was trying to load a website, and it just kept refreshing over and over again, unable to fully get connected. Error, error.

He led me to a couch that faced a rather giant flat-screen television hanging on the wall near the windows. Aiden sat right next to me, his knee brushing up against mine, and I wanted to throw up. I wanted to scream. So many things, and yet I felt as if I could do none of them. I needed help.

No, what I needed was to get the fuck out of here.

“I’m so glad you finally reached out to me,” Aiden spoke slowly, using his other hand to caress the top of my leg as he leaned closer to me. It was an intimate position to take, not a way you were supposed to touch a sibling. But then… we never were the epitome of a healthy sibling relationship, were we?

And then, almost in slow-motion, his words hit me.

I reached out to him? Hell no. I would never in a million years reach out to Aiden Harding, because he was my one regret, the one thing I wished for years I could change. I knew I never should’ve left him alive, but I had been too much of a chicken to wait for him to come home. Now, he’d caught up to me, and I had the feeling he wouldn’t let me go. Not again, not this time.

Hell, I couldn’t even find my voice enough to tell him I wasn’t the one who contacted him, and I was too freaked out to be staring at his face again to wonder just who had brought him here.

“I’ve been so worried about you,” he went on. “Out there in the world, all alone—”

“I killed Mom and Dad.” Ah, yep. When I found my voice again, that’s what came rushing out of my mouth, like some kind of twisted confession. Ugh. how annoying. I almost sounded guilty, too—which was just ridiculous, because if anyone deserved to die, besides my brother, it was my not-so-lovely parents.

Aiden blinked, but then he nodded once. “I know. I found them. It took a lot of work, but the police stopped looking for you, after I made some donations.” Bribed. He meant he used Harding money to bribe them, which wasn’t too shocking. What was shocking, though, was how nonchalant he talked about me murdering our parents.

I’d expected him to be upset, to freak out… to do something more than just accept it.

“How…” I didn’t know what exactly I was asking, so I stopped myself.

“I went through the courts, emancipated myself. When you have money, nothing’s too hard. You know that.” Everything he said, it was so matter-of-fact, as if everything he’d done in the past had helped to lead him here, back to me.

Fate wasn’t done with me yet, I guess, because here we were, the Harding siblings reunited in a city so far from home.

“I never would’ve found you if you hadn’t contacted me,” he referenced something that never happened again, and again I kept quiet. He would never believe me if I told him I never wanted to see him again. He would simply laugh as if it was the world’s best joke, even though I would be deadly serious. “Why did you wait so long? I’ve been so worried about you.”

Worried for me, or worried that I would try to find someone who would believe me when I said my brother had been coming into my bed for years? It didn’t matter now, anyway. None of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was that he was here, and I would have to learn to face my demons.

My parents weren’t my demons. They were just practice runs for the real deal. Aiden Harding was the big bad here, and I felt too weak to stand up to him, my mind in such a fragile state after everything tonight… fuck. This was the worst timing ever.

I decided, through my brain fog, that lying to him might just be my best bet. With his one hand still gripping mine and his other still on my knee above my dress, I said, “I didn’t know how you’d react, after Mom and Dad.” Yes, that was a normal thing to worry about, wasn’t it? It wasn’t every day when you killed your parents.

“Lola, nothing you could ever do would push me away.” He sounded so sincere it was almost nauseating. Like, who the fuck said something like that when it was the murder of your parents in question? God, we were both pretty fucked up. “I’m so glad I found you. I’m never letting you go again.”

Ah, now that sounded like something my brother would say, something that was spoken lovingly but was meant quite differently. Those words might be sweet coming from someone else, but from Aiden? From Aiden, hearing those words made me want to cut off my own ears so I’d never have to hear something like that again.

“Let me get us some drinks.” Aiden finally pulled himself away from me, and I felt violated, even though he’d only held my hand and touched my knee. Those things, I knew, were just a precursor of what he would do to me if I stayed here—which was exactly why I could not stay. I had to get out of here, and I had to do it fast.

But how could I leave here without risking him following me?

I should kill him, I thought absentmindedly as he disappeared around a corner to get drinks. I heard the sounds of glasses clinking together, and I glanced over my shoulder at the door. With my heels on, I’d make too much noise if I made a mad dash for it. He’d hear me, come out, and stop me. Killing him would rectify that… but right now, I just wanted to run. I needed to bolt. I needed time to think and gather myself, because as the minutes ticked on, I could feel myself starting to fade away.

My brother would be happy to lug around a shell of a person, a zombie. I’d just be a body, and after all, wasn’t that always what my dearest brother wanted? He loved me. I was so perfect. I was everything he needed and more… as if I was made for him. As if my parents had me first to get me ready for him and his amazing self. Hah, yeah, right.

Anyway, whatever I was thinking didn’t matter, because in a mere moment he was back, holding two glasses with some ice cubes and some tawny-colored liquid. Aiden handed me a glass, and I took it, though I made sure not to meet his eyes and definitely not to smile at him. Hell, I wasn’t even going to drink whatever this shit was. I wouldn’t put it past him to try to drug me to make sure I went home with him.

Home… my home was not with my brother. My home was this city. My home was with the Lucianos, a group of people who might not want to ever see me again, after what happened because of me. My home was with the men Bianca DeLuca wanted me to kill for her. The bitch.

If only I could get her and my brother in the same room, along with a bomb or something. Just destroy us all. I’d gladly die if it meant knowing neither of those fuckers would get to live another day. I was just spiteful and vindictive like that.

Aiden took a sip from his glass, leaning back on the couch beside me. His knees were apart, as if he was the biggest and baddest guy to ever walk this city’s streets. Oh, he had no idea. “So, what have you been up to while you were off on your own? How did you keep a roof over your head?”

I wasn’t stupid enough to believe my brother cared about the details of how I took care of myself all these years. No, if I had to bet, I’d say he was fishing for information, like if I’d become a prostitute or something. If a bunch of men had been at my body—in his eyes, his property. And if that was the case, he’d have a bit more business in town.

I couldn’t tell him the truth. I couldn’t say I’d been going home with predators from the bars and the clubs and killing them. I definitely couldn’t tell him that I’d killed the son of a mafia boss and was basically forced to do his family’s bidding, nor could I explain how I’d started to develop feelings for not one, not two, but three men I was currently sleeping with.

Yeah, I had the feeling that, if I told Aiden all of that, I would not be the only murderer in the family… though I honestly didn’t think he would be able to kill Maddox or Sylvester or Viper. The Lucianos, and the ones still loyal to them, were tough cookies. They didn’t crumble easily.

“Oh, you know, I did the odd job here and there,” I beat around the bush, not really saying anything. “I made it work.”

“Why wouldn’t you just come home? A place like this—” Aiden gestured to the windows, to the city outside. “—it’s no place for people like us. We belong in Lionsgrove, not here. Everything’s so dirty here.” At that, he took on an air of disgust, as if this city’s streets were some of the most filthy and disgusting things he’d ever had the displeasure to lay eyes on.

I realized I was insulted, as if he’d just degraded and belittled me and not the city, like this place was in my blood. Maybe it was, after everything. It was funny how quickly things had changed for me. Those damned Lucianos.

I loved them. I did. As much as a gal like me could love, I did. Never thought the heart in my chest would be good for anything, but I guess I was wrong. I used to think I was too broken, too shattered and crazy after my childhood to ever feel such strong, pure emotions, but again, I was wrong. Wrong about all of it. The shit I was wading through tonight was just so fucking deep I couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not.

For a person like me, love would only lead to my downfall, and, like I’d said so many other times before, someone like me wasn’t made for happy endings.

“Well, none of that matters, now,” Aiden spoke. “Now that I’ve found you, we can go back home—”

“No.”

His blonde brows furrowed, and he looked at me as if he could not believe I’d dared to say the word. “What?” Aiden sounded so clueless, so shocked, so very unlike himself.

“I’m not going with you,” I said, sounding firmer. I’d rather cut off my own eyelids than go anywhere with you, but I kept that bit to myself, instead adding, “I have unfinished business here, Aiden. I can’t just leave.” It would be my excuse until I found the strength I used to have, until I was strong enough to march into this hotel room and give my brother what he deserved.

Death. A long, miserable, excruciatingly painful death.

He let out a skeptical chuckle. “What kind of business could you possibly have? That’s nonsense. We’re leaving tomorrow—” So pushy, so very much like our parents. He shouldn’t take any pages from their book, since they were dead. Not the best role models, you see.

I got up, still holding onto the glass. I feared I held onto it so tightly the thin glass was liable to break in my grip. Aiden watched me stand, amusement in his eyes. He thought I was still the girl I was years ago, but that girl was dead, and the one that had taken her place did not play nice with others.

And right now, she was feeling a little crazy.

“You can go whenever the fuck you want,” I said, speaking through bared teeth. “But I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying here. Why don’t you go find another girl to play with, brother?” Straightening my back, I turned on my heels and started toward the door.

I heard the sounds of my brother getting up, and I froze, spinning around and throwing the glass I held onto, right at him. It landed on his chest, the liquid inside it splashing up and out, coating his shirt as the glass slid down and shattered on the floor. My brother didn’t have the reflexes to try to catch it, the fucking idiot.

“I didn’t contact you,” I spoke, my voice shaking only a little. “So whoever you think got in touch with you, it wasn’t me. You’re the last fucking person in this whole fucking world I’d ever want to see.” My heart beat fast, too fast. So fast I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t even know if what I was saying made any sense. The room spun around me.

Tonight… tonight was just too much. Why was tonight the night that never ended?

Without saying another word, I rushed to the door, my heels clicking on the tile below. A marble floor, probably. Ugh. This place.

“Lola—” My brother’s voice didn’t stop me from opening the door, at least, not until he said what he said next: “I’m not leaving this city without you. When you come to your senses, I’ll be here.”

I paused, half in, half out of the room, and I threw my head back, glancing over my shoulder, meeting the stare of my brother, who honestly thought I would choose to go back home with him. But, it was like I’d said before. This city was my home, the people in it mine. I would never leave it, unless it was in a body bag or as a corpse floating down the river.

I would die in this city, but that was alright. Where better to die than in the place of your own choosing? Not many people had a choice.

“Don’t,” I warned him. The word was laced with venom, and finally my brother got the hint. He stood there, staring, and he watched me go. The bastard didn’t come after me, which was good, because standing up to him like that… doing it while feeling so out of it, had taken a lot out of me.

I needed to recharge. I needed to refuel. What I needed was to be the Night Slayer, the smooth, beautiful killer of the night. I needed to get myself back, shake off the anxiety this night had given me, and give my brother what he deserved, what I should’ve done to him years ago.

As I rode the elevator down to the lobby, I grinned to myself.

I was going to kill him.

My hands were bloodied now, as I sat on that park bench in the early hours of dawn. If only it was my brother’s blood, and not two nameless people’s. If I would’ve been stronger, I could’ve killed him. I could’ve watched the life drain out of my brother’s eyes while knowing he got exactly what he deserved.

But I didn’t. I missed my chance. Fortunately for me, though, it sounded like Aiden refused to leave town unless it was with me, and he would wait for me to change my mind. I wouldn’t, of course; my brother would wait an eternity, and then he’d still wait.

However, I did have the feeling that my brother wouldn’t live to see eternity. He was my mistake, my one regret. He was the devil who haunted my dreams, whose face made me want to vomit and whose hands were too cold and possessive on me. I would end his fucking life, listen to him drown in his own blood. Maybe even cut off his dick, cook it up, and feed it to him.

That sounded like fun, didn’t it?

I let out a sigh as I turned my head up to the sky, watching the colors change. Time itself ceased to matter to me, and I waited. I waited for what felt like forever until a siren broke through the silence of the air. Slow to lower my head, I watched a cop get out of the car. All men in blue kind of looked the same to me, but I could’ve sworn it was the same cop that picked me up that day I was beating a guy on the sidewalk for talking to me wrong.

What were the odds?

As he slowly made his way around his vehicle, coming towards me, he spoke into a radio on his chest. His other hand rested on the gun on his hip, but he didn’t pull it out, didn’t point it at me. How disappointing.

Know what else was disappointing? The fact that I heard him say it was just a prank.

Yes, the girl walking through city streets on this fine morning covered in blood was just a prank by some bored teenager. Like, come on. In what reality would an excuse like that work?

Here, of course, because here all logic flew out of the window. The police were all crooked. They had their loyalties. This one, I was right in recognizing him, hopefully still had his loyalty to the Lucianos. It would just be my luck that he’d switched it up.

I smiled at him as he approached. “We keep meeting under the strangest of circumstances.” My voice dripped sarcasm, and I was quite certain my grin was maniacal. Back to my crazy self. Lola Harding was back, baby, and she wasn’t going to stop until all her enemies were dead, Aiden and Bianca included.

And, you know, if that meant going against the Lucianos and going off on my own… so be it. I refused to sit back and let Bianca try to use me, and I’d be damned if I let their attack on Viper and Mike and Roman’s girl go without retribution. And as for my brother? Well, I didn’t need to explain why he needed to die.

“Uh, huh” was all he said for the longest while, and I kept grinning at him, waiting for more. “Look, you can’t just sit here. This park gets busy around eight, so—”

“I’m afraid I don’t know where I am,” I admitted. “Got a little turned around last night. Could you bring me to the Luciano residence? I’d be forever grateful.” Look at me. Using manners and shit. My parents would be so proud of their angel.

He set both hands on his sides as he stared at me, eyeing me up not like a piece of meat but more like someone he didn’t trust. “Sure. First, tell me if that blood is connected to the two murders that were reported an hour ago. Two college students, both male—”

“Yes, yes, it was me, Officer,” I spoke with a toothy smile. Leaping to my feet, I added, “Now, are you going to cuff me and take me to jail, or are we going to the Lucianos?” I stared at him, and he stared right back. I could tell taking me anywhere was the last thing he wanted to do, but seeing as how he reported it was all a prank—go fucking figure—he kind of had to, unless he wanted more panic on the streets.

It didn’t take him long to give in, “Fine. But you’re riding in the back.” He turned, starting to head to his cruiser, and I followed him, my bare feet on the grass until we hit the sidewalk. He opened the backdoor for me, glancing at me again. “Try not to get blood all over the seat.”

I grinned. “No promises, big boy.” Saying nothing else, I ducked my head as I got in the car.

The officer rolled his eyes at me, silently heading around the car to get in the driver’s seat, and within another moment, we were on the move.

Watching the scenery go by, I glanced at the back of his head. He was a younger officer, kind of cute, but not really my type. I liked ‘em crazy, as crazy as I was, and those were some big shoes to fill. “I heard there was a shooting last night,” I started, trying to find some information on Viper and Mike.

“There was,” he said. “Busy night.” At that, his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. “Part of it thanks to you.”

I shrugged his accusation off, mostly because he wasn’t wrong. “Were there any deaths—besides the two college kids, I mean. Vinny and Mike—” When I mentioned their names, the officer’s movements became stiffer, as if he didn’t want to talk about it. Noticing the difference in how he acted the moment I brought their names up, I felt my gut sink, my intestines churn into knots.

Somehow, I had the feeling that wasn’t good.

Leaning forward, I asked, “What happened? Are they… are they dead? Do you know who did it?” If I got a name—or names, I could make sure I put a knife in their hearts on my way to kill Bianca. Make sure justice was served and all that.

“I can’t discuss police investigations with a civilian,” he muttered.

No matter what I said or did after that didn’t matter. The officer refused to speak to me, and that didn’t bode well. I took it as a bad sign, and I bit the inside of my cheek, turning my gaze to the window once more.

The minutes passed, and it took us almost twenty minutes to make it to the other side of town, where the Luciano’s mansion was. He stopped not before the house, but on the street, saying nothing as he got out of the car and moved to let me out.

I straightened myself once I stood, giving the officer another smile. “Thanks, doll,” I spoke, giving him a wink as I sauntered up the long pathway to the house. I didn’t look back; I figured the cop was happy to be rid of me… or that he was checking the backseat of his cruiser to see if I’d gotten any blood anywhere.

I mean, hey, I was kind of covered in it. I couldn’t help it if I got some blood on his seat.

The house was just as large and imposing as I remembered it being. A part of me expected to see Daddy Luciano standing in one of the windows, waiting for me somehow, but as I glanced up, I saw no movement in any of the overly large windowpanes. I saw nothing and no one, but that was probably because everyone was asleep or… or with Viper and Mike.

Fuck. My heart sank as I reached the front door, my bloodied arm going for the doorbell. What if they were both dead because of me? I was not one to feel guilt—not unless you counted my guilt over not killing my brother sooner—but for Viper and Mike, I knew I’d feel it. They were good men. They didn’t deserve whatever harsh fate they got.

My finger pushed the button, and I waited. As I waited, I tried to come up with what I’d say, what I’d do. For someone who didn’t give a shit about anything else in life, this was something I didn’t want to screw up. Yes, I’d gone on a bit of a bender, but I think, with what I went through, with who I saw and the truths I learned, I deserved a few hours to let loose.

Hell, maybe they didn’t even know the attack on Viper and Mike’s apartment was so all attention would be off me. It was possible they didn’t put it together, too busy dealing with that and the attack on Roman and Carter’s girl.

Shit. I was so dead if that girl died last night. There was literally no hope for me if that was the case. Nothing I could say or do would make the situation any better, and that sucked, because, like I’d mentioned before, I’d finally found where I belonged, after all this time.

No one answered the door. No one came to the door. In fact, as I continued to stand there, waiting, I heard nothing. Seconds turned into minutes, and I tried the doorbell again, my nerves completely shot.

Yet again, no one came.

I took a step back, craning my neck as I looked up at the mansion. What if no one was home? Shit. I didn’t even think of that.

Because I had nothing to lose, I tried the doorknob. They were not the type of people who would ever leave their house unlocked, but you never knew. After yesterday, I was starting to realize the things I thought were true couldn’t have been more wrong. Everything was topsy-turvy.

And, strangely, oddly, utterly bizarrely, the front door was open.

I pushed inside, quiet as a mouse after I closed the door. I didn’t call out for anyone; instead, I cocked my head and listened. The house was huge. I knew there was no way I would be able to hear everything going on inside the house, but it was too quiet. Way too quiet. Like, the you could hear a damned needle drop kind quiet.

Inching through the house, I went room by room. No one in the kitchen. No one in the halls. Upstairs, I found no one in the piano room or the many lounges. My bedroom looked untouched, as did the rooms I knew belonged to Maddox and Sylvester.

The deeper I went into the house, the more off it felt. Something here was wrong. It was a feeling that was very similar to how I’d felt prior to singing at the Gilded Rose. This… this wasn’t normal. Something was definitely going on, and I suddenly grew worried that it had been more than just a three-pronged attack.

But then why would Bianca ask me to kill the Luciano heirs if her people had already done it? And, if they were dead, surely there would be a sign of a struggle or something. I hadn’t come across anything. Just an empty, silent house.

I went up the stairs to the third floor, stopping the moment I was in the hall. It was a floor of the house I was not too accustomed to, because this was Daddy Luciano’s floor. It was where his office was, where his room was, where, I assumed, he kept all the important things. I didn’t halt because I felt like it was off-limits, though.

No, I stopped because I heard a noise coming from down the hall.

My heart started to beat a little faster, and I inched my way down, the blood on my body dry now. I was sure I looked quite the sight; whoever it was would get an eyeful of a murderous, primal goddess of death. Even my blonde hair had red in it. My face, my arms, my chest… yeah, I was very messy last night.

The noise was coming from Daddy Luciano’s office, and I hugged the wall as I got closer. I stopped just aside the door, finding it was wide open—another strange thing. The few times I was brought up here, the door had always been shut. Richard Luciano liked his privacy.

Don’t quote me on this, but it sounded like the opening and closing of drawers, the rustling of papers. It sounded as if someone was going through the office, and that someone wouldn’t be Big Daddy. Daddy Luciano would know where everything was; he wouldn’t need to search, and if he did search, he wouldn’t sound so frantic about it.

I moved my face closer to the doorframe, peeking around it, and the person I saw going through the desk was not someone I knew. Shit. Where were the Lucianos? And what the fuck was I going to do with this guy? I couldn’t just let him go through Daddy Luciano’s desk. What if he found something that would be damning to the Lucianos? What if he brought something to Bianca and it fucked my guys over?

No. No, whoever that guy was, he had to die.

Just as I was wondering where the hell to find a weapon in this house—for surely the guy would be done searching by the time I went down to the kitchen and came back up with a knife—he happened to glance up and see me.

Double shit.

The man’s expression hardened, and I booked it, running down the hall and to the stairwell, as fast as my dress would allow. The fucking thing did restrict some movement, even after being torn during last night’s events.

The man was quick. Lightning-fast. Before I made it down the stairs, he was on top of me, tackling me. Together we rolled down, our bodies in a heap as we both fought to be the superior one. He had muscle on him, but he didn’t go for the gun I’d seen on his side, which I thought was odd.

We rolled to a stop, me beneath him on the landing between floors, and since he wasn’t going for his gun, I decided to go for it myself. Didn’t particularly like guns, but hey, beggars couldn’t be choosers and all that.

Right when I pulled the gun out, he grabbed my wrist and slammed it back so hard I lost hold of the gun. The blasted thing fell out of my hand, and I let out a grunt as I whipped my head up and slammed my forehead against his. The stars that blurred my vision shortly afterward were worth it… however the strong hand that curled around my neck as a result, not so much.

The gun out of reach, with one of his hands around my neck and the other holding my arm down, I was fucked. Any struggling would be pointless now, so I gazed up into the eyes of my attacker and memorized his face. A stranger was going to kill me. Who would’ve guessed?

He squeezed my neck hard, his teeth bared. I got flashes of silver every now and then in his mouth, but my attention was mostly on his eyes. Light grey things, practically silver. They were a beautiful pair of eyes set in a grizzled, chiseled face that could kill. His hair was a pitch-black color, save for a lone white streak near his left temple. The sides were cut short, the rest of it slicked back. He wore all black, and his put-togetherness had gotten disheveled during the scuffle and roll down the stairs.

If I had to guess an age, I’d put him near Viper and Mike’s age; about thirty or so. A handsome guy, I had to admit, even if he was going to kill me.

A pity. I had so much more I had left to do. Bianca, Aiden, whoever had hurt Viper and Mike. The list went on and on, and I knew my unfinished business would haunt me in hell.

Our eyes locked, and suddenly the hand squeezing my neck loosened a bit. It loosened, but he did not let go. “Wait,” he spoke, and I got more brief flashes of silver. “You’re her, aren’t you? The girl Sylvester’s been going on about?”

I managed a nod, even with his hand on my neck. The dude had a strong grip, I had to hand it to him. Kind of reminded me of Maddox, except he wasn’t Maddox, so my lady bits weren’t as excited to be choked.

“Well, fuck me.” The man grinned, and it was then I realized why I kept seeing silver anytime he moved his lips. His teeth.

No, scratch that. His canines. His fangs—they were longer than they should be, and they were made of silver.

“The name’s Fang,” he added, unhurried in getting off me. He stood, grabbed his gun, and made no moves to help me up or apologize for trying to strangle me.

“Fitting,” I said. “I’m Lola.” I watched him straighten himself out. He was tall. Like, well over six feet. Taller than Maddox or Sylvester. Quite the impressive and intimidating fellow, especially with those teeth.

“Lola, what a silly name,” he spoke, his voice almost sounding like an animal. Low and gravelly. He was completely unimpressed by the fact that I was covered in blood, and I wasn’t sure whether I liked this guy or hated him.

“You know Sylvester?” I asked, getting to my feet slowly. My head hurt a bit from the headbutt, but it would go away soon. I had other things to focus on, much more important things, like who the hell this guy was, why he was here, and why he was going through Daddy Luciano’s office.

Tsk-tsk-tsk.

“Oh, yeah, we go way back,” Fang spoke as he slid the gun back into its holster. “I try not to stick my head into Luciano business often, but I’m there when they need me, and right now, they need me.” He eyed me up, more curious than anything. “They didn’t say anything about you being here, though.”

“I just got here.” I hugged the railing on the stairwell that circled the landing, suddenly feeling so very tired. That’s what no sleep did to you, coupled with a wild night full of shit. “I didn’t… I didn’t know when I’d be back, and I don’t have their number to call them.” Hell, I didn’t even have a phone. I had nothing but me. Not even the clothes I wore were mine, technically. They were bought with Luciano money.

“Well, as you can see, they’re not here.” Fang cocked his head, studying me harder. I could tell by his expression he didn’t know what to make of me, and he certainly didn’t trust me. The feeling was mutual, so I couldn’t blame him. Sylvester had never mentioned a Fang to me.

I waited a beat before saying, “Where are they, then?”

“I’m not sure if I should tell you,” he drawled out, glowering as his stare hardened. “Last the Lucianos knew, you were at the Gilded Rose, when Carter abandoned you for his girlfriend. How do I know that you’re still loyal to the family? If I heard right, you did kill Mario.”

Ugh. That was so old news by now.

“You’re right,” I admitted, “I did kill Mario, but that was before… all this. If you’re trying to figure out whether I’m like Tony, I’m not.” Nothing I said would make him believe me, I knew, and that irked me to no end. I didn’t have time for these games. Why couldn’t Fang see that?

Hmm. Maybe I had to play a different hand, the hand of a lover.

I took a step toward Fang, holding my own against his glowering. “I’m sure if Sylvester knew that I was here, he’d want you to take me to him.” It was now my turn to question, “What were you doing in that office, anyway? How do I know you haven’t betrayed them?”

Fang let out an irritated groan. “You’re right. Get cleaned up. If you think I’m bringing you to them while you’re covered in God knows whose blood, you’re crazy.”

He didn’t know me nearly well enough, then, because I was one hell of a crazy bitch. All I did was smile in return and say, “You didn’t tell me what you were doing in Richard’s office.” Felt weird to call him that; in my head it was usually Daddy Luciano, but for some reason I couldn’t force myself to call him that in front of Fang.

“No,” he admitted, “I didn’t, and that’s because it’s none of your business.” He took a few steps toward me, measured in towering over me, using his height to his advantage. If I was anyone else but me, I would certainly be intimidated by his stance and the power and strength radiating off him.

But, alas, I was me, so I met his glare with one of my own, along with a smile.

“Listen, you might be a favorite among the young Lucianos, but I know what you are, and I’m not impressed. You aren’t an equal to them or me. Remember that,” he growled out, pausing before adding, “as you wash that blood off you.”

I wanted above all else to know what he was looking for, why the Lucianos themselves weren’t here, but I knew as I stared up at him he wouldn’t give me the answers. I’d have to wait, hope that I could indeed trust this stranger and let him bring me to them, wherever they currently were.

There was a lot I could’ve said to Fang, many snide and quite angry retorts I could’ve replied with, but I held them all in, knowing it would get me nowhere. Egging on Maddox was a specialty, but this guy… I didn’t want to push his buttons too hard, lest he change his mind and not take me to them. Sometimes you had to suck it up to get the ball rolling, and honestly…

Honestly, I needed to see them, to be in the same room as them, to hear their voices and try to block out my brother’s. Not saying I needed comfort like some scared little girl, but it would be nice to be able to shut the world out for a bit.

“My room is on the second floor,” I said, “when you’ve found whatever it is you’re looking for and are ready to go.” Spinning on my bare feet, I turned and continued down the stairs, well aware of Fang watching me go.

That one, I really didn’t know what to make of him. An interesting character, that’s for sure. I bet there weren’t many people like him in this city, let alone the world.

I reached my room, standing in the center of it as I shed my dress, finally. The thing had seen a lot, and it frankly needed to be burned. Aiden had touched the dress’s fabric. Plus, all that blood was never going to come out. There wasn’t enough magic in the world to make that dress wearable again. A pity, because it was pretty, and, like the rest of the world, I liked pretty things.

Once I was naked, I walked across the hall and into the bathroom. I didn’t know what I’d change into; figure I’d wait until I washed all this blood off me, first. I got in the shower, turning the water as hot as it would go. It felt odd, being in this house, knowing the Lucianos weren’t here and that a man I’d never met before was upstairs, going through Daddy Luciano’s things.

What happened? Did they move after what happened to Viper and Mike? Maybe they had a safe house somewhere, where no DeLucas could possibly find them. A gal could hope, and I was hoping really hard.

They were okay, I told myself as I let the water hit my back, they had to be. If they weren’t, there was literally no point in Bianca having Tony keep me at the Gilded Rose, no point in meeting her at all. If I killed Maddox and Sylvester for her, she would think I’d become her loyal dog… but I was already a bitch with a leash, and she would never be the one who held onto it.

The Lucianos would. I would die with their leash tight around my neck, and I didn’t care. I wouldn’t, because that’s right where I wanted to be.

The water swirling the drain was pink for the longest time, and since I felt like I needed a full-body cleanse, I didn’t just rinse off. I did the full shebang, shampooing my hair, conditioning it, washing my body and shaving it. I took my time, mostly because I felt like I needed to fully get rid of last night’s stench.

What I wouldn’t give to have Maddox or Sylvester or Viper pop in the shower with me and warm me up with their bodies, their hands and mouths. Oh, God, yeah, I could really go for some sex. Something to get my mind off things, to bring me back to the present and remind me that there was still something worth fighting for, even if, in the end, I would lose.

With a sigh, I turned the water off and stepped out, drying myself off in the steam. I never turned the fan on, preferring to get the mirror all cloudy and the thickness of the air to drip on the walls. Wrapping the towel around me, I combed my hair—all wet and blonde now, no red to be seen.

The mirror I stared at, though it was full of condensation, was very similar to the one I’d shattered all that time ago, the mirror I’d tried to use to hurt myself because I just couldn’t take it. I’d been wrestling with these feelings for so long now, it almost didn’t feel real.

I, Lola Harding, serial killer extraordinaire, was in love with not one, not two, but three men. Not many gals could say that, I bet.

Hell, I wasn’t sure if that made me lucky or not. Having feelings for three different guys… and maybe they felt the same. Maybe not, though. Still, it was a pleasant thought for me—me, being a girl who’d lost her innocence so long ago, a girl who never thought anything in this world other than taking out the sleazebags would make her feel. All it apparently took was the right dick, and dangerous dicks at that.

I needed to see them again. I hoped Viper was okay. I had to tell them how I felt, and not just that I cared for them. No, that was the easy way out. They needed to know that I loved them, and that I would go against the Bloody Princess herself to protect them. Go against her, end my brother’s miserable life, and get back at the traitorous Tony.

One step at a time, and maybe, just maybe if I came out of it alive, I’d have a few more years with these guys.

Pushing out of the bathroom, I went across the hall to my room, where I found Fang laying on my bed, his frame stretched out and relaxed. He didn’t even get up when I entered, didn’t move to look at me at all.

I moved to my dresser, giving him my back as I pulled out a bra and panties. “What’s with the teeth?” I dropped the towel, reaching for my panties and slipping them on—a lacey red pair. Shooting a look over my shoulder, I saw Fang had sat up. Maybe to watch.

Ah, well. He was lucky modesty wasn’t my thing.

“I can’t say I’ve ever met anyone with silver teeth before,” I added, slipping on the bra next before heading to my closet and pulling out a pair of leather pants and a black shirt. If I was going to be a Luciano girl, I was going to look the part.

He was silent, watching me warily. Not very talkative right now, clearly.

“Tell me,” I went on, chatting away enough for the both of us as I slipped on the pants, “were you called Fang before or after the teeth? Because I know you weren’t born like that, you know. Teeth like that… are intentional.”

“Ever since I was a child, I had a bad habit of biting things,” he spoke in a whisper, his voice rough. “I earned myself the nickname a long time ago. Made it official when I put these in myself.” He ran a tongue over his teeth, and those long, sharp, silver canines glinted in the light.

Like a vampire. Only real… and probably more psychotic.

“Did it hurt?” Not sure why I was asking. Like, duh, obviously they hurt. They had to hurt. It didn’t look like his teeth were still under there, so I assumed he would’ve had to yank out his original teeth first. Ouch. Or, at least, I assumed it hurt, since pain and I weren’t really on talking terms.

“What do you think?”

I took that as a yes as I tugged my shirt down over my body. All that was left was to find some boots, and then the look would be complete. “Do you still have a bad habit of biting things?” It was none of my business, truly, but when faced with someone like him, a gal got curious.

Very, very curious. Like, did his girlfriends—or boyfriends, I wasn’t judging—have teeth marks on their bodies? Did he scar them to remind them that they belonged to him? Hmm. It was kind of an enticing thought, or it would be if I wasn’t already spoken for, love-wise. Having a man like Fang possess you had to be fun.

The look Fang gave me told me all I needed to know. Yes, he still liked to bite things. Why else would he have bothered with the fangs? Why would he have made them sharper and longer than a typical pair of canine teeth? Why go through all of that trouble if he wasn’t going to put them to use? Yeah, yeah, I know. Stupid question.

Instead of answering me and my stupid question, Fang spoke, “You might want to pack a few things. Where we’re going… I don’t think they’ll have a closet to your liking, Night Slayer.”

At that, I tossed him a glare. So the man did know who I was. Huh. How close were he and Sylvester, exactly? And then, of course, as I was wondering that, his words hit me: where we’re going, there won’t be a closet to my liking, which meant they were still alive, holed up somewhere else. Somewhere, I assumed, away from here, out of this city, where they could regroup and come up with a plan to get back at the DeLucas.

Because after last night… there had to be retribution. Even if, by some miracle, no one was dead, it was only a matter of time until one of their attacks landed. Best to cut off the beast’s head as soon as possible, and I would gladly volunteer for the job.

My life was forfeit anyway, thanks to my family. Maddox and Sylvester, they still had so much they could do with their lives. Rule this city, change it, be happy. Have a family. Have kids. Do things I could never do, have things I could never have. You know. The usual.

I listened to Fang’s instructions and packed a bag full of extra clothes. No extra shoes; I figured I’d wear these boots with every outfit I could. I did pause by my dresser, where a box rested. My heart ached just looking at it. It was a box I’d long since memorized, a box that had completely come out of the blue.

What was inside it, you might be wondering? My mask. My mask that I’d missed so terribly last night. Felt kind of naked killing without it, which was just ridiculous. As the Night Slayer, I only had wigs as a mask, and that was before. Last night I had nothing… but then again, last night wasn’t exactly me at the top of my game. I’d messed up, left a witness who’d seen my face.

Yeah, it was a damned good thing everybody in this city was in someone’s pocket.

I opened the box, slowly pulling my mask out. My fingers danced across it, and as I touched the cool metal, a shiver crept up my spine.

“Some of my finest work.” Fang’s voice came from right behind me, and I nearly jumped. I’d been so intent on the mask in my hand I didn’t even see him get up in the mirror or hear him move closer to me.

I was so caught off-guard, it took me a moment to realize what he’d said. “What?”

“The mask,” Fang explained, glancing down at it. “It’s not often I’m proud of how things turn out, but that mask is one of them.” His silvery gaze was intent on it, and I knew he wasn’t lying. What would he have to gain by lying? Absolutely nothing. He was a master with metal, apparently.

“You made this?” I didn’t know why I was having such trouble with it, but with how gorgeous the mask was… I don’t know. I guess I just assumed it had a feminine touch on it, not, you know, this guy’s. He was barely holding back his batshit craziness.

The way Fang looked at me right then told me I was stupid for asking. “Why would I call it some of my finest work if I didn’t make it?”

Ah, good question. Very good question. Okay, I wasn’t quite all there in the head yet, so cut me some slack. Give me some time to catch up on things. It was just one thing after another lately. Like, a break here and there would be nice, you know? Let my mind catch up some.

Finally, I got ahold of myself, dropping my gaze back to the mask as I muttered, “It’s beautiful. Very unlike its creator.” A jab at him, which probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but he was kind of jarring. A personality like his took some time getting used to, time we didn’t have. I had the feeling he would take me to them and then I might never see him again. Which was fine by me.

Fang frowned at me, a deep-set look that I bet he wore more often than not. I giggled to myself, ready to go.

Ready to see my twisted, psychotic lovers again.

Chapter Three – Sylvester

I paced the hall of the cabin, unable to help myself. It was such a small thing, this home in the woods, so far from the city we were used to. Its acreage was big, at least. There was a lot of space between this home and the neighboring one, so much so that my family had been able to build other log cabins on the same site. All near each other, a backup plan, should we ever need somewhere to escape. It was a place my father never spoke of to anybody… not even Maddox and I knew about it until last night.

Until we needed it. Until we came running here with our tails tucked between our legs like the losing team.

But we were the Lucianos. We weren’t the losers. It were those fucking DeLucas who were the losers. I’d give it my all just to see their family crumble, mark my words. After what they did last night… fuck, they must be laughing at us, and that possibility ground my gears like no other.

My father emerged from the room nearby, his face a bit paler than it should’ve been. It’d been a long night, and today was shaping up to be an equally long day. Viper and Mike had been attacked. The Dollhouse was shot up. Lola was who knew where. Everything was a mess, and I worried that it was so messy, in fact, we wouldn’t be able to salvage the situation at all.

I was worried this was it for us, that this was it for my family and our legacy in that city. The regular people didn’t care who ruled the city as long as their lives went about unchanged. They would flock to whoever had the most power; Tony had proved that loyalty meant nothing to most. The people who were still loyal to us we could count on our fingers and toes.

And that was a sad thing indeed, because not too long ago we were the ones who ruled that city with an iron fist. We were the ones everyone came to when they had a problem that needed fixing. The Lucianos were the ones who knew all the dirty secrets of the politicians and high-ups at the police station and city hall.

Things had begun to change when the Lucianos lost their matron, Maddox’s mother. Mario’s mother. I was on the streets while they were busy bonding with each other as mother and son often did, so I never had much time with her before she died. I never really thought much about it, but I did catch myself wondering how different things would be if she was still alive. Would Maddox be as mad as he was now, would Richard be as closed-off as he was? Would the Lucianos still have lost their power over the city, or was she the first domino that fell?

So many questions, so few answers. They were answers I would never receive.

My father wore the same suit he’d worn yesterday. We didn’t have time to pack clothes. Once it got to a more decent hour of the day, I’d have to go into town and buy some for all of us. I’d thought about sending Maddox, but if there was someone who could blend into a small town like this, it was not my crazy brother whose head was half-shaved and full of tattoos. That pressure fell on me.

I glanced to the door he’d just walked out of, knowing both Viper and Mike were in the room. Only one was in a bed, though, fighting with the bullets currently lodged in his system. We had to get the metal out, but for that we needed someone who actually knew what they were doing. “How is he?”

He let out a sigh, running a hand down his face. Stubble lined his jaw, his dark eyes tired. My father was not that old, but here and now, his age had caught up to him. Forty-some years, but even so, he was still one of the strongest men I knew. “Still breathing. Doc should be here sometime today.”

Big Mike was the one who was unlucky last night. He and Viper were at their apartment while Carter and Lola were at the Gilded Rose. The whole place had been shot up while another crew had gone to the Dollhouse, where Roman and Carter’s girl worked. Mike had somehow drawn the shortest stick, taking quite a few bullets. One in his arm, one in his chest, one in his abdomen.

Shit. It was bad. I didn’t know if he had much time left, if a doctor could even cut into him and dig the bullets out. It might be too late. The internal damage might already be done.

I followed my father out of the hall, and we walked through the small, scarcely-furnished living room, pushing out onto the front porch of the house. It overlooked a whole bunch of trees. Trees, as far as the eye could see. The air here was clearer, crisper than it was back home. This place certainly was in the middle of nowhere. I could not see any of us staying here for long.

We had to lick our wounds, muster up, and march back to that city and reclaim it.

Maddox sat on the steps of the porch, his back hunched over. He looked absolutely miserable, like he wanted nothing more than to crawl into a bed and sleep for days. I knew the feeling.

“Have I ever met this doctor?” I asked, leaning on the wooden railing near my father.

“No,” he said. “I never have, either.”

That got Maddox’s head to whip around, his black eyes to narrow at our father. “What? And you’re having him come here to work on Mike? How the fuck do we know we can trust him?”

“We can trust him” was all our father said, and Maddox and I exchanged glances. Somehow, that wasn’t the most comforting thing to hear. As far as we knew, this doctor was a stranger to us. After what happened last night, trusting a stranger was the last thing any of us should do.

Since Maddox was fuming at our father’s non-answer, I tried to dig a little deeper, saying, “How do we know he doesn’t work for the DeLucas?”

“Because he doesn’t know who the DeLucas are. He works for a family in a place called Hillcrest.”

Hillcrest. That sounded vaguely familiar. Wasn’t that where Roman and Carter’s girl was from?

“How do you know him?” I asked.

“I don’t know him, personally,” he said. His hands were in his pockets, and he still looked so tired. On our way here, we used a payphone—because, yes, in the middle of nowhere, those things still existed—to contact Fang. Fang was supposed to go back to the house and grab something for him.

Fang hadn’t acted too thrilled to do it, but he agreed to. He was a family friend, one of the ones who didn’t like getting involved in DeLuca or Luciano business, but when he was called, he answered.

“I know the man he works for,” my father went on, dragging his gaze across the horizon, as if the doctor himself would magically pop up. “Years ago, just after Maddox was born, one of the DeLucas hired an assassin to kill me. Obviously, their plan backfired. I’m not an easy man to kill… which is why they’ve resorted to weakening everyone around me, first.”

Maddox’s brows were furrowed. “What does an assassin have to do with anything? I mean, we have our own hitman. His name’s Roman, and he’s in that cabin over there—” He took on a smart tone, unwise when it came to dealing with our father.

“What Roman does and what this family does are two different things,” our father explained, a muscle in his jaw tensing. “We send Roman out when we need someone taken care of. That family, though… they’re hired killers. They take whatever jobs pay well.”

I’d never heard of an assassin trying to kill our father, and I found the thought quite hard to imagine. “So, what happened to the assassin?”

“I killed him.”

Okay… I was not sure where the hell this story was going or how it had anything to do with the doctor.

He must’ve sensed I was still confused, for he added, “A few months later I was contacted by a man named Weston Scott. Turns out the assassin was a family member of his who decided to take the job without Weston’s approval. Weston’s a good man. We got along well. What we do might be different, but in the end, we are the same.”

Huh. Even after all these years, I didn’t know the extent of our father’s reach. It seemed what people said really was true: you learned something new every day, and I’d just learned that the DeLucas had always sunk to the lows they still fell to today. Hiring an assassin. Come on. How pathetic was that? If you needed someone dead, you sent your own crew for the hit, not an outsider.

“Weston gave up his place as the head of the family a while back. Someone else is in charge now, but when I explained who I was, he knew me. Hence sending their family doctor to us. I fear they are the only ones we can trust right now.” My father ground his teeth, not looking too happy.

None of us were happy, though. This was all such a mess. And Lola… she was out there, somewhere, by herself. Maybe with the DeLucas. God, the things they could be doing to her… I didn’t want to imagine them. If they hurt her, I would make sure their deaths would not pass quickly. They would be long and tortuous and full of agony.

“They’re fucking strangers to us,” Maddox spoke, getting to his feet. He stood on two steps, his knees spread, looking like he wanted to bolt. “We can’t trust anyone. Isn’t that obvious by now?” He scoffed, “And you say I’m the stupid one of the family.” Instead of running away, as he always did when faced with something he didn’t know how to process, he stormed up the steps, past our father and me, and pushed into the house. The door slammed behind him.

It was a while before my father whispered, “Nothing we do is without risk. Everything is calculated. I’m only bringing him here to try to save Mike, otherwise… otherwise I fear it will be all out war, and that’s something I’ve tried to avoid all these years.”

“Even after Angelina?” Maddox’s mother, my father’s wife. Angelina DeLuca.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Don’t get me wrong. I’ve dreamed of destroying that family for years, but to act in cold vengeance is to dig your own grave. Everything must be considered. You know this, Sylvester.”

I looked away. I did know it. Still, after everything the DeLucas had done to us, it was time for vengeance, whether it was calculated or not. They were used to the Lucianos sitting back and waiting for things to fall apart, but no more. Even if it meant going against my father, I would go back to that city, find Lola, and destroy as many of them as I could. The streets would run red with blood.

“Maybe I’m just a stupid old man now,” he muttered bitterly. “Full of idiotic ideologies and useless knowledge. Maybe I was never cut out to be the head of the family.”

I’d never heard him talk like that, and I whipped my head around, blinking in shock. “Don’t say that.” Comforting my father… never thought I’d see the day. He’d always looked and sounded so strong and certain of himself. I looked up to him all my life, wanting to be like him, but maybe I was wrong to want that.

His love was dead. He had closed himself off from the world, refusing to make those responsible pay. If something ever happened to Lola, I’d make damned sure the city crumbled to its knees. I wouldn’t become my father.

“When Angelina and I got married against both our parents’ wishes, we were so close to running away. I can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if we would’ve gone…” He stopped himself, realizing what he was saying and who he was saying it to, turning those dark eyes to me. “But then I wouldn’t have found you.”

There was so much more I could’ve said to him, but the longer we spoke about this, the more I wondered if my father was ever the man I used to think he was. He didn’t sound as strong as I’d thought, didn’t come off as tough or as menacing. He just sounded so tired, like life had given him one too many blows.

Thankfully, my father pushed off the railing, saying, “I’m going to go check on Roman and the others.” He said nothing else as he headed off the porch, walking in the direction of the cabin next door.

I watched him go, a strange feeling in my chest. He would never agree with going back and wreaking vengeance, but my brother would. Maddox would be all for it. As much as I hated to think it, as much as it was bizarre to imagine it, maybe it was time Maddox and I took the reins of this family. Maybe it was time we showed the DeLucas we weren’t going to sit back and let them attack us until we were nothing but dust.

No, whether my father approved of it or not, we would go back, and we would make them pay for what they’d done, and the only currency we would accept was blood. Wet, warm, messy blood.

The hours passed ungodly slowly, and eventually I went into town and bought us new clothes. The town was a little thing; it had one main street with a supermarket that I’d never heard of before, along with a single gas station and a few small-town eateries. So not what I was used to. I couldn’t imagine staying here for longer than we had to.

This place wasn’t for us. We weren’t built for a small town like this. This was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone else, and a new face brought curiosity and questions. I’d deflected quite a few as I bought the clothes from some tiny shop on the main street. The gossiping ladies behind the counter figured I owned the land on the far side of town, the cabins that never seemed to be occupied.

They were right, of course, in that my family owned it and not me specifically, but all I did was smile and shrug off their incessant questions.

Driving back, with all the bags loaded into the trunk and backseat, I let myself get lost in the silence of the car. There were some radio stations, but they played some God-awful music that frankly sounded worse than nails on a chalkboard. A place like this… fuck no, I could never live here, and I had no idea how this many people already did. It made a nice place in the middle of nowhere to hide out for a while, but live the rest of my life here? No. Hell no. I was city born and raised, and I itched to get back to the paved paradise.

The driveway to the cabins was a long one, and it wound through the trees. The trees were so thick and numerous I couldn’t see the cabins until I was right on top of them, and once I got to the clearing where the cabins were, I slammed on the breaks.

There were two cars. Two. There shouldn’t be, since I’d taken one to go to town.

I inched closer, and when I saw what was printed on the plate, I could not get out of my car quick enough. Fang was here. Maybe he’d discovered something while back at the house. Maybe he’d heard something. Fuck. I was going crazy not knowing.

Oh, I’d reamed into Carter pretty hard when he told me he left Lola at the Gilded Rose when he got the call from Roman. In the heat of the moment, I didn’t care about what happened to his girl; I only cared about what happened to mine.

Because she was, you know. Lola was mine, even if I had to share her with Maddox and Viper. I didn’t care. I’d gotten angry over seeing her and Viper together, but… I would give anything to have her here with me right now. Anything. It was amazing what a little loss could do to you.

I practically ran into the house, finding Maddox and my father standing in the living room with Fang. My father held onto a picture, the thing he’d sent Fang to fetch. Though I couldn’t see its face, I knew what the picture was: him and Angelina on their wedding day, back when they were happy and apparently thinking of running away.

How different things would’ve turned out for me. I might still be a street rat, or perhaps I’d be dead. You never knew.

It was as Fang turned to me and gave me a smile that I noticed my father didn’t look too happy. In fact, he looked downright ticked off—and only one person got him that ticked off. Well, other than the DeLucas, I mean.

Lola.

My heart beat with the possibility that she was here. But what were the odds? Fang was sent to the house, wasn’t he?

“Ah, there you are,” Fang spoke, his voice low. He cocked his head at me, flashing me the silver in his mouth. “You’ll never guess who I found in your house—”

“Lola,” I spoke.

Fang frowned. “Fine, I guess you could.”

My father shook his head, scowling. “Out of all the things you could’ve brought back, her? Really? The bitch that killed my son—”

“From what I hear,” Fang spoke, unafraid of the boss man, “she’s also the bitch your other two sons are fucking, so.” He shrugged. “You win some, you lose some.” Spoken so matter-of-factly, he made even Maddox chuckle, and Maddox hardly ever laughed.

Turning his dark stare to Maddox, our father glared hard. “You think shacking up with your brother’s killer is funny?”

As his laughter faded, Maddox spoke seriously, “I don’t think you’d believe me if I said no.”

I watched as our father stormed out of the house, swearing under his breath, leaving me alone with Fang and Maddox. It amazed me right then, how quickly things had changed. That was not something that would’ve happened weeks ago. My father warned if he ever saw her, he’d kill her, and Maddox had hated her with his entire being—and now he was laughing.

Fang craned his neck to watch our father leave the cabin, slow to bring his grey stare to me. “Well, on that note, I think I’m out of here. I imagine you two will want to welcome your girl back with your dicks, and believe it or not, I’d rather not witness that—even if she’s got a nice ass.” He tapped the side of his head, giving me a salute before walking out of the house.

Wait, her ass? Did that mean Fang checked out her ass?

No, let it be, and focus on the fact that she was here, safe.

I still couldn’t believe it. I brought my gaze to my brother, who was lounging on the hideous couch that decorated the living room. “Where is she?”

“She went straight to Viper once she heard about Mike,” Maddox said. “As much as I want to, as Fang said, welcome her back with my cock, I figured I’d give her some time with him, since…” He couldn’t finish the sentence, and I felt the faint stab of pain in my heart.

Mike might not make it, and that felt wrong.

I was slow to sit beside my brother, glancing at him. I must’ve worn a strange expression, for he quickly asked, “What?”

“It’s just… normally you’re the one who thinks with your dick, not any other body part.” To let Lola see Mike first, that was Maddox showing restraint. A shocker, definitely. He was acting a little too thoughtful. Where was my brother and what did this alien do with him?

Maddox punched my arm, saying, “Stop looking at me like that. I don’t… everything is fucked up right now. I don’t know what to think.” He came off sounding so ridiculously concerned, and the situation merited it, for sure. I guess it just went to show how serious this was.

I wanted to talk to him about my plan, which wasn’t so much a plan as it was just an idea to go back home and storm the fucking city, killing every DeLuca loyal we could get our hands on, but I kept it to myself for now. Though I wanted to go off the rails, we needed a better plan than that. Our father wouldn’t agree to it, but that was fine. We were adults. We could make our own decisions, and I say those motherfuckers were going to pay for what they did to us.

There would be no coming back from this. The DeLuca attack had initiated the final countdown.

Chapter Four – Lola

I stood beside the bed, staring down at the big body taking it up. It felt so weird to be the one on my feet, the one watching, when Mike had always been there doing the same. His long brown hair was greasy, not in any ponytail to keep it together. The eyes that I knew were a pretty, vibrant hazel were shut, and beneath the eyelids, they were still. He hardly moved, save for the faint rising and falling of his thick, wide chest.

A chest that had a bandage on it, and beneath that, a bullet hole, just like his arm and his stomach.

Shot three times, and not quite dead yet. He was strong, but as I stared at him, I wondered how much strength he had left. How much fight remained in his body. As big as it was, as impressive as he was normally, here and now he just looked so forlorn, so weak and sad. It hurt me to see him like this.

Just because he and I were never intimately involved didn’t mean I didn’t care about the big lug. He was a good guy, nice and gentle unless you prodded the bear.

Viper sat in a wooden chair on the other side of the bed. He looked like he was sleeping; I hadn’t made much noise when I entered the room. Honestly, I’d wanted to get away from Richard’s glare as quickly as I could once I heard Sylvester wasn’t here. I’d nearly run to Maddox, but he didn’t seem like a hugger, and that was fine.

Right now, it was all about Mike. Poor, poor Mike.

Carefully, I sat on the edge of the bed. It was a queen, I think, so there was plenty of room for me to sit beside him. The more I stared at him, the more the thing in my chest hurt. It ached with the knowledge that this attack had all been to hurt the Lucianos while getting to me.

Don’t get me wrong, I was relieved to see Viper was okay, but that didn’t lessen how I felt about Mike’s injuries.

“I’m sorry, big guy,” I whispered, wanting to touch him, to tell him that everything would be okay, but he was unconscious, and I dared not wake him up just so he could be in pain. “I feel like this is all my fault.”

I’d thought I was speaking quietly, but I must not have been quiet enough, for in the next moment, Viper started to stir, and when those eyes—a beautiful hazel, just like Mike’s—opened and saw me, he nearly fell out of his chair.

He got to his feet, rushing around the bed, and I barely had time to get up so the bed would be undisturbed before his arms were thrown around me and he pulled me close to his chest. He smelled of sweat and musk, and I closed my eyes and let him hug me.

A tender gesture, something between lovers, because that’s what we were, as messed-up and broken as we each were. Some more so than others.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” I whispered to his chest, and I felt his arms tighten around me harder. Being in Viper’s arms came with a certain sense of relief, for I’d imagined so many different possibilities after what Tony had said last night.

“Me, too,” he whispered back, and he was slow to release me, though he still kept his hands on my arms, as if he thought I would disappear again. “Where were you? What happened?” Two very important questions, and the answers to them I’d have to tell everyone.

“Let’s not worry about that right now,” I said, taking one of the heavily-tattooed hands on my arm and guiding him back to the chair he’d been sitting in. I let him sit, and then I took off my boots, unzipping them and kicking them aside before climbing onto his lap and curling into a ball.

Laying my head against his chest, I could hear his heart beating fast. My heart probably beat just as fast, but not for the same reason. I was excited to see him again, to know he was alive and well, hurt that Mike had gotten caught in the crossfire, but beyond that, there was more.

My heart beat fast because I, as stupid as it sounded, didn’t want to tell anyone what happened, even though I knew I had to. There was no way in hell I could keep everything to myself, and yet, when I closed my eyes and pictured my brother’s face, I couldn’t help it. Telling them what had happened to me for years as I was growing up versus knowing Aiden was here… they were two totally different things.

I mean, he wasn’t here here, which was good. There were hours between us now, but he wasn’t going to leave unless I went with him, and no way in hell was that ever going to happen. Oh, Aiden would leave, but he’d do it in a body bag. Or in pieces in the river. Or… or something along those lines. It wasn’t like there was anyone to claim his body, since our parents were dead. He would rot in obscurity.

Good. Because that’s what he deserved.

Fuck. I didn’t want to tell anyone. It was like, now that Aiden was around, now that he’d shown his face and claimed I’d contacted him, my weakness was revealed. I wasn’t as strong as I claimed to be. A fake, a phony. Ugh.

I didn’t know how long we sat there, but it was a good long while. It was almost enough to help calm me down, but internally, I was still screaming when a blonde head appeared in the doorway, attached to a suit I knew he’d worn yesterday.

Sylvester.

I lifted my head off Viper, slowly sliding off his lap. I glanced between them, not wanting them to fight or bicker about anything right now, especially me. Trust me, there was enough of Lola to go around. Plenty. More than enough, really. Some might even go so far as to say there was too much Lola.

Those people would be assholes.

But, anyway, I was frozen beneath those blue eyes, and I would’ve remained that way, had Viper not nodded and said, “Go. It’s okay.” I didn’t exactly need permission, but hearing him say that, it made me feel a little better about leaving Viper’s lap and going to the suit-wearing blonde in the hall.

“Hey,” I spoke quietly, unable to say anything else because Sylvester wove a hand in my hair and pulled me close, his lips crashing down on mine in a heated display of passion and longing. The damned dude stole the very breath from my lungs, and he did it unapologetically.

His mouth pulled off mine enough to say, “I was worried about you.” With each word, his lips brushed against my own, and immediately I was drowning in him, in everything he was. How easy it was for me to lose myself in this man, in all of them, really.

It didn’t make sense. Someone as broken as me, finding a group of guys I fit in with so perfectly. They accepted my wildness, they liked my bloodthirstiness. Why didn’t I stumble upon them before killing their brother? Things would be so different.

“You should never worry about me,” I told him, his face so close to mine I couldn’t focus on him, only on the feeling of his lips grazing against mine. “I’m a big girl, you know.”

He breathed out a shaky breath, hands dropping to my hips as he pulled my body closer to his. “Yes,” Sylvester agreed, “yes you are.” His mouth found mine once again, the hunger in him unsated by anything that wasn’t me. He swallowed my moans and nipped at my lips, backing us into a bedroom across the hall from where Viper and Mike were.

With strength I knew he had, he pushed me away, throwing me onto the bed. The look in his eyes told me everything: he was so very hungry for me, and he had to have me now. Having a man as strong and as powerful as Sylvester give you a look like that… it was panty-wetting, trust me.

My inner thighs clenched together as I propped myself up on my elbows, giving him a look that told him I was ready and willing for it all. Wipe the slate clean. Make me forget. Make me love hands and the way they danced across my skin instead of hating them and the horrors they could inflict.

“Take off your clothes,” Sylvester ordered, using a commanding tone that sent a shiver down my spine.

Aye-aye, captain.

I could not get my clothes off fast enough, leaving them in a crumpled heap on the floor. My bag of clothes was in the living room on the floor, and my mask was tucked safely inside it. Never knew when that would come in handy.

As I shed my clothes, Sylvester tore off his, piece by piece, stopping only when he stood at the foot of the bed, as naked as the day he was born—only much, much sexier. His cock was rock hard, and I licked my lips, ready for it in whatever hole he wanted. I wouldn’t be picky. I was a hungry bitch, but only for a few certain cocks; his included.

All thoughts of my past faded away as Sylvester moved around the bed, a hungry, desperate expression in his eyes. Their blue orbs were zeroed in on me, and even though the respite would be temporary, even though reality would come crashing back and remind me of how shitty things were, for now, we could simply get lost in each other.

Our bodies collided, his coming down to press upon me as we lay back on the bed. His wide, muscled frame blocked out the world, and I relished in it, in him. Drawing my hands down his chest, I bit my lower lip, feeling the strange urge to kiss him.

I know, I know. To think there used to be a time when I hated kissing, when I thought it was too personal. Now, with these guys, it was like I couldn’t get enough. They made me feel so alive, I could hardly recognize myself. It wasn’t a bad way to be, but I had to find a balance, figure out a way I could be the Night Slayer and the gal who could relax in her lovers’ arms.

Getting a healthy work-life balance was important for everyone, you know. Not just me.

Though his face was so close to mine I could hardly see, I knew Sylvester was smiling, his hands traveling up my body as his mouth neared mine. He kissed me hard and fast, and everything around us vanished. There was no cabin. No Mike unconscious across the hall. There was nothing but him and me.

That was, until a rough, scratchy voice muttered, “Really? You’re going to fuck and not even close the door?” A laugh, though it was mirthless.

Sylvester pulled his mouth off mine, and together we turned to look at Maddox, who stood in the door frame, his arms crossed, his mouth pulled taut. The side of his head that had hair was a bit greasy, but the dirtied-up look suited him. With his dark clothes and the tattoos lining nearly every inch of his skin, Maddox was the epitome of danger, chaos made flesh. He was everything that made my inner core ache with wanting and more.

“Go away,” Sylvester muttered, frowning at his brother.

As Maddox didn’t move, as he simply glared back at him, I stared between them. They were brothers, yes, but not blood brothers—and after everything that happened, right now I wanted to lose all sense of self in their arms. That’s why I said what I said next.

“Why not stay?” I offered, earning myself a pair of risen eyebrows from Sylvester, along with a look of shock. Maddox, on the other hand, only looked amused… but definitely interested.

No one said anything for a while. The room was filled with silence, but it did not help my aching kitty and the need the gal felt for a release. With two of them, I was bound to have an orgasm or three. The chances were higher than if I was just with one.

Let me be selfish, just this once.

“Or we could bring Viper in here—” The offer was stifled by a look Sylvester gave me, along with a shake of his head… and I took that to mean he hadn’t spoken to Maddox about the fact that I had feelings for Viper, too. Huh. I guess we’d kind of had our plates full since then. Telling his brother he caught me riding Viper one morning was the last thing on his mind.

“Fuck that,” Maddox spoke, stepping further into the room, kicking the door closed with his foot. “If you want a brother sandwich, that’s what you’re gonna get.” He started to take off his clothes, working on his shirt first.

Sylvester’s head snapped in his direction. “Hold on, I didn’t agree to this—”

“Too bad,” Maddox quipped with a devilish smirk, and I couldn’t help but laugh as I thought: this is going to be fun.

Fun was probably an understatement, though, for I had the feeling it was going to be a lot more than just fun. Pleasurable, exciting, thrilling, taboo, all-encompassing and consuming. All that and more. Bring it on, baby.

Or should I say, babies? Heh, you know, since there were two of ‘em…

Okay, you know what? Back to the sex.

Sylvester, still laying atop me, brought his blue-eyed gaze back to me, and for a moment, I couldn’t read his expression. He definitely wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of having me with his brother, but I could not wipe the smile from my face as my attention was torn between them both.

“Oh, come on,” I purred out, running my hands up Sylvester’s chest, feeling the warm muscles beneath my fingertips tensing, “it’ll be fun.” My lips neared his, and I whispered, “I’m sure it’s not the first time you’ve seen your brother naked.”

He grumbled something incoherent while Maddox worked on shedding his pants and his boxers.

“You’re not real brothers, anyway,” I said. “And besides, you don’t have to touch each other. Give me all of the attention. Spoil me, Sylvester. Help me forget…” I trailed off, for there were so many different ways I could end that particular sentence.

Help me forget my brother. Help me forget my exchange with Bianca. Help me forget Tony. So many things, and yet none of them could be said just yet.

I wasn’t any more breakable than I already was, but I didn’t want to tell them what happened before. I wanted wild, hot, desperate sex first. Get back to the way things used to be, if only for now, even if we were only pretending and pushing away the inevitable.

I kissed Sylvester’s neck, and he moaned. “You drive a hard bargain,” he murmured, pressing his body harder down against mine, and I knew I had him. He wasn’t fighting me nearly as much as he should’ve if he really didn’t want this.

Not saying that he wanted his brother, but that he was so hungry for me, he was willing to have me while his brother did, too.

“I swear to God,” Maddox growled out, now naked beside the bed, “if that dick touches me, I’m going to saw it off.” His threat was not as serious as he probably meant it, because he was nude and as rock-hard as he could possibly be. His wide frame, covered in black tattoos, the muscles on his body to die for. Six little squares sat on his abdomen, teasing, tempting. Very lick-able.

Sylvester and I sat up, and I put myself in the middle of the bed, grinning at Maddox as I said, “No need for that. I can be in the middle at all times. I volunteer. I’ll make the sacrifice, as hard as it will be.” I giggled at that. Hard. I couldn’t help it.

Maddox crawled on the bed, giving me a lusty look as Sylvester whispered, “How noble of you.”

I turned my head toward the blonde brother, grinning at him. He took me by the throat and pulled me close, kissing me. As my eyelids snapped closed and I lost myself to the power of the kiss, I felt one of Maddox’s hands roam up my back. Slowly, gently, a touch that was very unlike his usual.

And then it wasn’t, for that tender caress turned into a vice-like grip on the back of my neck, and Maddox pulled my mouth off Sylvester’s, turning my head and bringing me to him. Sylvester released his hold on me, grumbling something about his brother, but he didn’t stop him from stealing the kiss.

God. This was really happening, wasn’t it? This wasn’t a beautiful dream. This was legitimately happening, and I could not stop my heart from trying to burst out of my chest. It was almost too much. Almost.

Maddox and Sylvester fought to claim my mouth for a while, tugging me back to them after the other had sufficiently wiped the previous man’s taste from my lips. It was like being stuck in the middle of an ungodly sexy tug-of-war, and kissing them both in quick succession only helped me to realize how different they showed their passion.

Sylvester was confident, his mouth hungry on mine but not overly so. I wouldn’t say he was nervous, but there was a softness to his embrace that just wasn’t replicated by his brother. Maddox, on the other hand, was wild and rough; his kisses bruised my mouth and the area around it. He was more like an animal than a lover, but that was not new information. I’d known he was a wild one from day one.

“Wait,” I whispered, my voice nothing but breathy air as I was laying between them. We’d fallen back, Maddox and Sylvester still at war to claim my mouth as we lay there. I sat up, turning to look at them both, breathing heavily, my skin on fire. Every single part of me ran hot, especially my core. I so desperately wanted them both, but I needed to tell them how I felt.

Just get it out, so it was done and I never had to say it again. Just three words. People said them all the time. It was natural… but it sure didn’t feel that way for me, not in that moment. A part of me still worried if I was too broken to truly feel such strong, pure emotions, but there was no turning back now. Best to say it and get it out there so we could continue with this sexy threesome.

“I have something to say,” I started, sounding very awkward. Too awkward. Like, I couldn’t even recognize myself with how awkward I sounded, because not once in my life had I ever come across so… well, awkward. Ugh. “To the both of you.”

Maddox and Sylvester traded glances, their naked chest rising and falling with even breaths. Neither one said anything, which was probably for the best, because this was about me. My feelings. I wasn’t asking them to feel the same way.

“I’m not good with feelings,” I said, picking at the comforter below, well aware that Sylvester’s gaze now rested on my face, while Maddox just couldn’t stop staring at my tits. No shocker there. “I’ve never been very good with them. You guys make me feel… confused, hopeful, happy. You make me feel alive. Even though I know it’s not forever, I don’t care. I’m in this for as long as you’ll have me.”

Shit. I was rambling like I’d never rambled before. All those words, and I hadn’t even said the three words I’d set out to say yet. Jesus. What the hell was wrong with me?

Swallowing, I forced myself to get to the point so we could get back to the fun stuff, “What I’m trying to say is that I love you, okay? I love you. Now, let’s get back to the fucking—”

Maddox’s dark eyes widened, and Sylvester sat up, reaching for my hands. Words did not escape him, it seemed, for he had no trouble saying, “Lola, I love you, too. When I say you’re our angel now, I mean it.”

Their angel. Their angel of death. That word had been tainted for me for so long now, but hearing it come out of Sylvester’s mouth… I decided I didn’t mind it. If I was to be someone’s angel, I would be theirs. Their crazy, psychotic, blood-hungry angel.

Sylvester glanced at Maddox, who still laid there, unmoving. “You don’t have anything to say? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Groaning, Maddox was slow to sit up and answer, “A lot of things, it turns out.” His dark eyes, a brown so pure and unforgiving they were nearly black, did not stare at my tits, for once. His stare held mine. “Look, I’m even worse at feelings and shit than you are, but…”

“Careful,” Sylvester warned. “She might try to kill you if you don’t say it back.” He’d meant it as a joke, but to me it fell flat, mostly because that’s exactly what Bianca wanted me to do. Minus confessing the I love you part.

Since Maddox seemed to have such trouble finding the right words, I crawled onto his lap, and for once, it was not his hand around my neck; it was the opposite. He fell back, and I continued to straddle him, gazing down into his eyes as I whispered, “You’re mine, Maddox, whether you like it or not. That means no more Mina or anyone else.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” Though he whispered it back defiantly, he smirked, and I could tell he liked my dominance, even though he was usually the one displaying it. Sometimes it was fun to have the tables turned.

“I think,” I murmured, leaning down to him, “I can do whatever the fuck I want, and you’re crazy enough to enjoy it.” I didn’t need to hear Maddox say it; I still didn’t know if people like us could truly feel love in its entirety, but I knew his feelings for me were different today than they were that first night, when he’d wanted nothing more than to kill me.

I’d get the bastard to say it someday, if we lived that long.

Loosening my hold on his neck, I let my hands trail down his chest, tracing the tattoos before lowering my face to his stomach, licking his abdomen. Couldn’t help myself. Had to do it. Had to taste the sweat glistening on those muscles and feel the cock inches below twitch with wanting.

My hands grazed his hipbones, and I made it out like I was taking my mouth lower to his dick, but then, with a giggle, I crawled off him and went to Sylvester, doing the same. Maddox grunted, annoyed with me, but that was fine. Teasing the man was quite fun, actually.

Having the two of them naked, on the same bed together… oh, it was wonderful. I didn’t know where to look. They were both such imposing specimens of the male gender, their cocks both impressive, although Maddox’s was more a monster than Sylvester’s. Neither of them had an ounce of fat on their bodies, their muscles unrivaled.

It was like night and day. Where Maddox was tattooed, Sylvester was not. Where Maddox had black hair and dark eyes, Sylvester was blonde and blue-eyed. Two devils on my bed, two handsome men who would kill for me. They were all a gal could want, honestly.

My feelings for Viper notwithstanding, of course. Couldn’t change how I felt about that one, either.

I dipped my head low to Sylvester’s cock, my tongue flicking out and swirling around the tip, immediately eliciting a moan from him. The sound was one of the best I’d ever heard, and it egged me on to pop his whole length in my mouth, to bob my head along that cock and make him moan even more.

I didn’t get the chance to do too many bobs though, for soon a strong hand grabbed the back of my head, pulling on my hair just a bit too roughly. Maddox smirked at me, and the look in his eyes as he yanked me closer to him told me all I needed to know. He stuffed my face toward his cock, and I parted my lips like a good girl, giving him head after he stole me from his brother.

His cock pushed deep into my throat, and for a few moments, I fought with my gagging reflex. With a thick, long monster like his, it was challenging, to say the least, but I was more than eager. I wanted it. I wanted both men and their cocks, to be filled with each rod and pumped to the max.

Did that even make sense? Had sex brain, so I had no idea.

Maddox whipped me off his cock, its length glistening with my saliva, and he growled out, “Give me that pussy right now.” It kind of sounded like a threat, like he’d be really ticked off if I didn’t, so I did what any sane girl would do and returned to his brother, who was waiting not-so-patiently for me to come back.

Sylvester’s hands were hungry, just as his mouth was. He flipped me so that I was beneath him, so it wouldn’t be easy for Maddox to pull me back, and that mouth roamed my body everywhere I needed it to. His hands caressed my tits, his mouth finding a nipple and latching on, sucking, nipping, teasing me with his tongue.

My eyes shut, and I let out a pleased sigh.

He went to the other nipple, showing that hardened pebble the same attention he’d shown the first, and every nerve in my body was on fire. I knew it wouldn’t take much to push me over the edge. I wanted this so badly, wanted them so much.

Sylvester’s mouth left my puckered nipple, his hot breath dancing down my stomach. He traced a line across the scar on my stomach, and it amazed me, for I’d damned well forgotten the thing was there. That’s the power these two had over me. It was something that was almost otherworldly.

The next thing I knew, he had my legs spread, my most intimate place bared before him. I shivered when I felt his tongue lap at my slit, slowly drawing up my apex. As Sylvester continued his assault on my clit and the area around it, Maddox inched beside me, watching my face as I lost myself in the pleasure.

His rough, tattooed hand found my neck, and he leaned his head against the side of mine, his forehead touching my temple. His fingers curled around my throat tightly, choking me just enough to make me smile. “I wish I was inside of you right now,” he murmured, his voice so rough I could feel it in my core. “I wish I was feeling your tight cunt around my cock.” He choked me a bit harder, and I started to grind my hips against Sylvester’s face.

Couldn’t help it. My body reacted how it reacted.

Fuck. It felt so good. The pleasure swimming through me, mere seconds from swallowing me, was a sensation I could get used to. Just give me all the orgasms all the time, please. Let me have a mouth attached to my clit and a hand on my neck at all times. Thanks. That’s what I needed.

I didn’t dare to try to hold the orgasm back. With both brothers doing their own thing to me, it was heaven. It was bliss. It was everything a gal could ever ask for or want. My muscles tensed, my inner core burning up, and I cried out, unable to quiet myself. I probably moaned so loudly the entire house heard me, but I didn’t care. It was a world-shattering orgasm, and I wanted another one.

“Don’t stop,” I begged, needing them both to keep going, for Sylvester to keep attacking my clit with his tongue and for Maddox to keep choking me while whispering filthy things into my ear.

“I like it when you beg,” Maddox whispered, while Sylvester kept at it, not even pausing to admire the flush on my body from his mouth work. “Lola Harding, the Night Slayer, begging for more like a hungry whore.”

I grinned. “Only for you.” Well, them and Viper, but I didn’t think now was the best time to include Viper, since Sylvester hadn’t told him yet. Forcing me to give Viper a blowjob and knowing I’d fucked him were two totally different things. Maddox was liable to react as Maddox reacted to most things, and that was violently.

Sylvester kicked it up a notch, sucking on my clit as he stuck a finger inside of me, arching that finger and rubbing a certain spot inside that made me squirm. Still riding the high of the previous orgasm, still lost in my own ecstasy, I knew it wouldn’t take long. It might just be a record with how quickly these orgasms were coming.

It felt like I was already on the edge, my body on a fever pitch, and I felt Maddox’s hand squeeze my neck harder. He held onto me so hard it was tough for me to get a full lungful of air, but it came with the territory, and I wasn’t going to complain—mostly because, combine that with the way Sylvester was going at me below the waist, there was no way in hell any more words were going to come out.

I mean, they might come out, but they sure as shit weren’t going to make any sense.

I was so close to coming again, but Sylvester pulled his finger out and lifted his head off me. With Maddox’s hand firmly on my throat, I couldn’t look down to see what he was doing, but it didn’t matter, because in the next second, I knew what the blonde had in mind.

He wanted to be inside me when I came again, wanted to feel my inner walls clamping hard around his cock.

Okay. That was something I could easily do.

Sylvester filled me up slowly, letting out a groan as he pushed all the way in. My pussy was wet and raring to go, ready for some cock action, and he started to thrust his hips, dragging that length in and out of me in a way that made my heart speed up.

“Pull out,” Maddox growled, releasing my neck to take his brother’s place between my legs. “I need to come.”

Sylvester shot him a look that said, and I don’t? But he acquiesced to his demand, withdrawing his cock from my core and rolling aside, letting Maddox have at me.

Where Sylvester took his time in filling me up, Maddox pushed in with one quick jerk of his hips, filling me with that monster cock so hard and fast it made me cry out, made me see stars. The air was pushed out of my lungs as a result, and as he fucked me like an animal, I couldn’t seem to catch my breath.

It was a wonderful feeling, frantic and heated, and I wished this moment would never end.

I felt the cramping of muscles, the uncontrollable spasms that happened in my toes and fingers right before an orgasm, and it was as Maddox fucked me that I came again, my entire body losing itself to the sky-high feeling of pleasure. This time, when I cried out, I wasn’t nearly as loud, but that was because the damned orgasm was so intense, I couldn’t even moan.

My inner walls tightened around Maddox’s cock, and his body shook with a similar release. His tattooed body bent forward, his hips jerking his cock as deep into me as my body would allow. The guttural groan that left him was more like a grunt, and I squirmed, not wanting him to pull out.

He did, though, and when he did, Sylvester started to take his place, but Maddox sat back on the bed beside me, saying, “No. I want to see her lick her juices off your cock.” Another demand, and it was one that caused Sylvester to stare at him with an annoyed expression.

Clearly, he didn’t like being told what to do, but I could dig it, and once I got going, I’d make sure Sylvester liked it, too.

“It’s fine,” I said, finally finding my voice after that deliciously powerful orgasm. “Let’s give him the show he wants.”

Sylvester grumbled, “He always gets what he wants, that’s the problem.”

“Oh, shut up, and fuck her mouth already,” Maddox said.

Sylvester didn’t lay back; instead, he got to his knees on the bed, and I crawled to him, my head level with his glistening cock. With every move I made, I could feel Maddox’s cum starting to seep out of me, and I made sure to flash my backside to Maddox so he could see it, so he could see his handiwork and watch thighs clench as I gave his brother head.

Tasting myself on his cock, that was not something I was used to, but I could get behind it. Still had sex for brains, so I kind of had a one-track mind, anyway. I bobbed my head along his length, being sure to pay extra special attention to the tip, swirling my tongue around it and sucking it hard like a lollipop whose flavor I absolutely adored.

Sylvester’s hands found my head, fingers intertwining in my hair. Something in him must’ve taken over, for the next moment, he took a page out of Maddox’s book and started to fuck my mouth, no longer the gentle one. His thrusts were hard and quick, rapid in succession, and it didn’t take long for him to burst.

I took everything he gave me, gobbling his cum down like a thirsty bitch in heat. He groaned, his top half trembling as his thrusting slowed, his hot seed salty down my throat. When he pulled out, I licked my lips, meeting his eyes.

“That was fun,” I purred out, running my hands down along my body, well aware both brothers currently watched how my hands rubbed around my tits, how I pinched my own nipples and arched my back. What could I say? I really was a thirsty bitch. “What next?”

The two brothers looked at each other, and they were silent. They each breathed hard, and their cocks were both wet from me. One with saliva, the other from being inside my cunt. Staring at them both, dragging my eyes between them and their still-hard cocks, oh, I had an idea. An idea that you couldn’t quite do when you were only with one other person.

“I want both of you,” I said. When neither of them seemed to get it, I added, “At the same time.”

Maddox scowled, even though he kind of looked interested. “I said no dicks touching—”

“You don’t have to be in the same hole, silly,” I said, smiling at them both. “One could go in one hole… and the other could go in the back.” Really, with how crazy these guys were about sex, I was honestly surprised no one had brought it up before. Not with two participants but a backdoor entrance. Guys seemed to be obsessed.

Whatever reluctance Maddox had before faded entirely as I suggested what they could each do with their dicks. He glanced to Sylvester, asking, “You up for it, or are you tuckered out from coming that one time?”

Sylvester scoffed. “Are you saying I don’t have stamina?”

Maddox shrugged his bare, tattooed shoulders, running a hand over his half-shaven head. “I ain’t saying nothing… only that I bet your balls are dry.”

Making fun of Sylvester, especially about that, would get him to agree to try it without fail.

“You might be one and done, but I can go all day,” Maddox went on, grabbing me and throwing me at his brother. “Prove me wrong.” A dare, a challenge, and it was one Sylvester would take; I could tell by the glimmer of irritation in his blue gaze.

I smiled at him, whispering, “Let’s prove that motherfucker wrong, shall we?” I didn’t give Sylvester a chance to agree or not—I knew he would, so waiting was pointless. I straddled his form, grabbing his shaft and stroking it once before guiding it to my entrance and sinking down on it.

Sylvester let out a deep-throated groan when his cock was nestled within me. His hips rocked once, but I set a hand on his stomach, stopping him. Had to get the other cock in me, first.

I leaned forward as Maddox crawled behind me, the bed shaking with our combined weight. With Sylvester’s cock buried inside me, it was almost too much to feel Maddox’s hands on my ass, squeezing, slapping, spreading the cheeks. I could only imagine how full I would feel once his monster of a cock was in me, too.

Maddox’s strong chest leaned down against my back as he whispered, “Are you ready to feel us both inside of you?” His voice practically dripped with anticipation, and I could not nod my head quick enough. There was no way in hell I would ever be able to form words right now, not with how needy I felt, with how urgent the desire to be completely full was.

I heard him spit into his hand for some extra lubrication, and then I felt the initial prodding. I inhaled a gasp, holding my breath as Maddox pushed that beast inside of me. It was not a quick and easy entrance, not like it was with my pussy. This time it was slow and steady, and at first it came with a bit of pain as my rim adjusted to his girth.

Such a fat cock he had. Fuck.

When was the last time I’d taken a cock up the ass? I couldn’t even remember, but it felt like an eternity. I breathed out an uneven breath, focusing on relaxing my muscles and accepting that thick member into me. Giving yourself to it was necessary. Backdoor play was not something that was enjoyable if you were tense and fighting it the whole time.

He pushed into me, and the deeper he went with that cock, the harder I was pressed down upon Sylvester below me. His cock still sat in my pussy, and locking eyes with him, I could see the hazy lust dilating his pupils. He might claim he didn’t want to do this, but in the end, he wanted me whatever way he could get me, just as Maddox did.

They might not admit it, but I had them wrapped around my finger. What a place for them to be, eh? Such strong, disciplined men, handsome and sexy in all the ways that counted, and they were mine. Their smirks and smiles belonged to me, just as their cocks did. Their devotion, their adoration, their psychotic-ness—all mine. The day I would let them go was the day I no longer drew breath.

I was sandwiched between Sylvester and Maddox, and with their cocks buried deep within me, I was as full as I could be. I smiled, but barely able to—especially once Maddox started to move his hips.

Holy fuck. I was ready to explode. I surely felt like it. How could a body handle this much pleasure all at once? Going comatose suddenly felt like my future. It was just too much, and yet not enough. I wanted it all. I wanted to be sore after this.

“Come on,” I managed to say, “you both can do better than that.”

As if rising to the challenge, Sylvester started to grind his hips beneath me. He didn’t have the best position to fuck me, but his dick was long enough that it stayed nestled in my core as he rocked his midsection, his hands clamping down on my sides. As if I could move. Hah.

Maddox, meanwhile, began going at my ass harder, now that my body was more used to the addition of his thick, veiny member. Grunts left him every few thrusts, and I knew he was taking just as much pleasure from this as I was. He might’ve said no swords crossing, but with the sounds that came from my rear end, I could imagine their balls touched a bit.

Don’t know why, but that thought got me all hot and bothered in the best way.

We were a mess of limbs, a twisted concoction of bodies, each of us searching for another release. Mine actually happened first, go figure, and if I thought my previous orgasms were earth-shattering, this one blew them out of the water. It blew them out of the water and into outer space.

The orgasm was rough and violent and everything I needed. It devoured me, leaving no part of me untouched. My body shook with pleasure, the throaty cries leaving me ones I could not stop. Every part of me tensed, which caused both men to let out their own guttural moans.

The funny part was, the guys’ orgasms were nearly simultaneous. Maybe my own release had helped to further theirs, but it was like a wham-bam-alakazam kind of thing. I kind of wished I could’ve seen it, could’ve seen them both come at the same time, but alas, that would mean someone else would be in the middle of them, and that was a big, fat no-no.

I settled with watching Sylvester come while listening to Maddox erupt. Sylvester’s eyelids slammed shut, his lips parting as a deep sound came from him. The fingers he had on my sides dug into my flesh, so hard I knew they’d leave bruises. I was fine with it, though. Let their love bruise me. I’d wear each and every bruise like a badge of honor, with a huge smile plastered on my face.

And when those bruises faded I’d ask for more.

Please, sir, can I have another?

Or ten?

They both were ragged and spent when they pulled out of me, and Maddox was quick to go wash himself off, which left me able to snuggle with Sylvester. I ain’t the kind of gal who used to like to snuggle—fuck, the word snuggle wasn’t even in my vocabulary before—but it was nice, just being there with him, feeling his naked body against mine, his arms around my back. I could definitely get used to it.

Too bad there were some things everyone needed to hear.

Chapter Five – Viper

Lola had something she wanted to tell everyone, so she had Sylvester fetch everyone for a meeting. A meeting, like we were some kooky family on a television sitcom and not one of the most dangerous groups in the state.

Or, we were, before the DeLucas kicked us down. Before they shot up my brother. That wasn’t something I could get over anytime soon, not unless he woke up and got better. We were still waiting on that doctor; he was supposed to be here anytime now.

I stood near the window, beside the front door in the living room. My arms were crossed over my chest. I hated leaving my brother’s side, but the way Lola spoke, whatever it was she had to say was something we all needed to hear.

Maddox was reclining on the couch, his knees spread. Lola paced the length of the room, still not quite acting like herself. I had no idea what happened to her while I was busy getting shot at, but judging from the way she was acting, it probably wasn’t anything good. I tried not to stare at her, but I failed.

She was… God, she was alive. I’d been so worried about her the last twenty-four hours, it felt like an eternity. I never knew I could worry about someone so much. Her, Mike… I didn’t know how much more my heart could take, as wussy as that might sound.

Lola and I locked eyes, and I felt my lower half stirring, my hands itching to touch her again, to hold her, to tell her that I was glad she was okay. I wanted to lose myself in her, bury my nose into her long blonde hair and breathe her in, try to forget, even if just temporarily, that my brother was fighting for dear life. An escape.

I’d heard her and Sylvester and Maddox going at it earlier, so it was kind of tough for me to not look at her and want to do the same. You couldn’t judge me for it.

Breaking eye contact, I stared at the floor, at my shoes. Richie was just outside; Sylvester was gathering everyone from the other cabin, but I highly doubted Richie would want to step inside and hear whatever it was Lola had to say. She still wasn’t his favorite person. If he had his way, she’d be dead right now, and that… that was a thought that was almost too much for me to bear.

I was loyal to Richie, to the Lucianos. We owed them a blood debt our service could never repay, and yet, if he asked me to shoot her, I didn’t know if I could. Weeks ago, sure, I would’ve done it. Been unhappy to do it, but I would’ve done it. If he would’ve told me the first night she came into our lives, I would’ve done it with no hesitation whatsoever. But now?

How the fuck could I kill the girl I loved?

Don’t get me wrong, I knew it was stupid. Falling for her was a bad idea, even if Sylvester and I had come upon an understanding. It would only lead to further heartache and pain, but I guess I was a sucker for punishment. I couldn’t help myself.

It wasn’t too long before we heard voices coming up the front deck. The door was wide open, letting in the cool, clean air of the outside world. Carter and Roman appeared, stepping inside the house just after Sylvester. Their girl—along with the civilian they’d brought—must still be in their cabin. Whatever Lola had to say didn’t have anything to do with them—

Whatever else I started to think slipped from my mind the moment Roman laid eyes on Lola, and within the next moment, he rushed past the furniture, past where Maddox lounged, and bum-rushed Lola. Roman had her picked up off the floor, dangling with her feet inches in the air, the next moment. His hand around her neck, he slammed her against the nearest wall.

It all happened so fast. I honestly didn’t know what Sylvester expected, but it wasn’t too far of a leap for Roman to blame Lola for what happened. I uncrossed my arms, fingers itching.

Maddox got to his feet, and Sylvester was with him. Even together, they could not peel Roman off Lola. Roman was tall, wearing a dark suit, and he blocked Lola’s figure from me entirely.

“You,” Roman hissed, his hatred for Lola evident, “you’re the reason Zoey was shot.” He slammed her against the wall again. “I should strangle you.” He seemed utterly unbothered by Maddox and Sylvester, who were currently trying to get him off her.

Lola let out a giggle, which was probably not too smart. She gasped for breath, eyeing Roman up as she said, “Go ahead, big guy.”

“Get off her,” Sylvester spoke, his voice hard.

Maddox growled out, “Fuck off, Roman.”

Neither of them was doing any good; Roman wouldn’t listen. What happened next was probably stupid on my part, but I couldn’t stop myself. I reached for the gun on my hip, taking off its safety as I pointed it at Roman’s back from where I was across the room. He wasn’t a moving target, so it’d be pretty fucking easy to land my shot in his head, splatter those brains on the wall and make him regret ever laying a hand on Lola.

But he was Roman, so I had to hold back.

“Let her go,” I ordered, once I had Roman’s attention. “Now.”

Roman’s dark stare was on me, his glare narrowed, and it took him way too long to realize I wasn’t joking. Beside him, Sylvester said, “I’d listen to him, if I were you.”

Beside me, Carter was itching to go for his gun, to make this situation more complicated, but he resisted the urge, probably knowing if he did, this would only escalate… and the DeLucas had already fractured us enough. We had to resist the urge to kill each other, at least for a little while.

It was clear he didn’t want to, but Roman released Lola, taking a step away from her as he ran a hand through his dark hair, as cool and collected as he normally was. Just went to show you that you couldn’t trust anyone’s act. All of us were killers here, and we were just waiting for the right moment to snap.

Roman moved to stand in the kitchen, which was right next to the living room, no walls between them. Carter moved beside him, frowning at Lola and me, but he kept his feelings to himself.

I was unhurried in putting the safety back on and returning my gun to its rightful spot on my hip.

Shooting Roman Russo would be a death sentence, but I would’ve risked it. The realization was almost startling, because it was only something I would do for Lola. No one else. Maybe I was more on edge and prone to rash decisions after what happened to my brother, but to know I would go against a man like Roman to save my girl…

It was shocking, really, especially since there was a time when I used to tell myself Lola meant nothing, that she wouldn’t be sticking around for long. And yet here we were. Funny how things changed.

Maddox slowly made his way back to the couch, while Sylvester cooed over Lola, “Are you alright?”

Lola could not stop grinning. She was a wild one, definitely. She liked the danger, liked the pain, but I knew it was only because she’d grown up in constant anguish and fear. The human mind could get used to so many things, adapt and overcome.

Or go mad while trying to.

I was under no impression Lola was sane, but I didn’t think any of us here were, either. We fit together, almost too well.

“I’m fine,” she said, glancing around at everyone. “Well, now that you’re all here, I can finally spill the beans.” When no one said anything, she went on, “I’m glad you asked what beans I’m referring to.”

Her remark caused Carter to groan in annoyance and Roman to narrow his stare, but she had my full attention, along with the Luciano brothers’.

“After Carter went running for his girlfriend, I was taken upstairs in the club,” Lola went on, no longer pacing but still appearing just as uneasy as she’d been earlier, before Roman had tried to choke her out. “You’ll never guess who was there.”

The cabin fell silent yet again, and Lola made a big show about staring at all of us, as if she was waiting for someone to guess. That girl needed to speed things up. No one here was patient, and Roman looked like he still wanted to kill her, so there was that. Get this show on the road, Lola, I willed to her.

Plus, the sooner this was done, the sooner I could maybe get her to myself. Even though my mind was on my brother, I was happy to have her back, to know she was safe and unharmed. I wanted to feel that smooth, porcelain skin against mine and hear the sounds she made while I was inside of her.

“Tony,” she spoke the name of our most recent traitor, and my skin prickled. If that fucker was here, I’d make sure he spent his last days in misery. We’d suspected before, but now there really was no excuse. The Gilded Rose was DeLuca territory, and for Tony Torio to have been there, it meant he was waiting for her, meant he helped plan it all.

Roman should want to strangle Tony, not Lola.

“Tony was there, waiting for me. He must’ve gotten there before Carter and me, because I didn’t see him before then,” Lola went on. “He told me it was a three-pronged attack. The DeLucas attacked the Dollhouse—” AKA Zoey’s place of work. “—to get Carter out of there, and they also attacked your place.” At that, she brought her big, blue-eyed stare to me.

My place, the apartment I shared with Mike. We’d gone home after seeing her off, and the rest was history. Terrible history.

“That got you all distracted, so the DeLucas could get me,” she said, shrugging. Her expression read that she was conflicted, and I couldn’t help but feel like there was something else she wasn’t saying, something more.

Sylvester’s back was rod straight, his eyes wide as he asked, “The DeLucas had you? Did they hurt you? Did they know you were the one who poisoned their old man?”

“That’s the thing. Carl DeLuca’s dead.” She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in. “Everything that happened was orchestrated by—”

“Tony?” Maddox cut in, leaning forward. His fingers were clenched into fists, his knuckles white.

Lola shook her head. “The Bloody Princess.”

I closed my eyes. Bianca DeLuca, the heir to the DeLuca throne.

“You’re saying Bianca staged it all?” Sylvester questioned, the repercussions of the truth felt in us all.

“Bianca got Tony. She was the one who convinced him to get me to poison her father. While he was sick, she killed him. She’s been in charge, gathering soldiers to her side, for years now. She told me she had her sister killed because she wasn’t strong enough.” At that, Lola stared at Maddox. “You never told me your mother was a DeLuca.”

“She wasn’t,” Sylvester said, shaking his head as his brother remained broody and silent. “She left her family to be with our father. She had children. And then…”

“Then Bianca had her killed to stir the unrest between your two families,” Lola stated, confident in every word she said. “I met with her. She told me everything.” Her jaw tensed, and for a moment, she looked down. “She believes your family is on its way out, and she wanted my help in finishing it. She heard from Tony that I killed Mario, and she was—well, not exactly impressed, but something like it.”

“She wanted your help?” Sylvester spoke, trying to piece it together. “With what? What did she want you to do?”

Lola swallowed, letting out a long sigh before saying, “She wants me to kill you and Maddox. She gave me seven days to do it.” As if she felt guilty for what Bianca wanted her to do, she quickly added, “She also wants me to keep performing at the Gilded Rose, but I don’t think I’ll grace that club with my voice again.”

Shit. Bianca wanted Lola to kill Sylvester and Maddox? My mind raced. That bitch was definitely crazy, and not in the good way.

“After the coordinated attacks, I don’t think sitting back and pretending they didn’t happen is an option anymore,” Lola spoke with a shrug. “Bianca knows your family’s hold on the city isn’t as strong as it used to be. She’s been planning this for years, and she’s not going to back down until you’re all dead and Richard is alone, and then, I assume, she’ll kill him after weeks of torture.”

“Oh, yeah?” Carter muttered under his breath. “And how do you figure that?”

The look Lola gave him in return stopped him from saying anything else. It was not the anxious expression she’d worn just moments ago; it was the complete opposite. A calm, calculating look. “Because,” she said, speaking matter-of-factly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “it’s what I would do.”

“Well, I assume you’re not killing us, since you’re telling us this,” Maddox said, running a hand over his face, lost in thought, for once. “We need to come up with a plan. We need to get back at the bitch.”

“Agreed,” Roman hissed out the word, pure venom.

“Now, hold on, we can’t just—” Sylvester’s attempt at calming everyone down was interrupted by Richie, who had just stepped into the house. Until now, he’d been listening through the wide-open front door.

He adjusted his tie, careful to avoid staring directly at Lola as he addressed his sons, “She needs to be eliminated, but more than that, the city needs a demonstration, a show of power. They need to be reminded of who we are. We will stay here, rest up, make a plan, and then enact it. There’s no longer a point in waiting. The war that has edged upon us these last few years has finally arrived, and there’s no running from it.”

With Richie’s words, everyone in the room knew there would be no arguing, no going against him. The decision was made. If the DeLuca’s wanted a war, it was a war they’d get. We might be on the side with fewer numbers, but that did not necessarily mean we would lose. We had quite a few great shots here, along with a fucking serial killer.

The DeLucas wanted blood? Oh, they’ll get it. They’ll get it, and they’ll regret ever asking for it.

Richie wanted to talk to his sons and Roman and Carter after that, which meant I had to watch Lola. And, by extension, that meant I had to be away from my brother, since Richie still didn’t want to deal with Lola at all.

Lola took it in stride, walking to my side and hooking her arm through mine, saying, “That’s fine. Let them hammer out a plan. That’s the boring part, anyway. Why don’t you and I go for a walk?”

Going for a walk, leaving this cabin and Mike, it wasn’t what I wanted to do, but right now I didn’t have a choice. Hell, I’d be stuck permanently at his bedside until his big ass woke up, if I was able to.

As Lola blinked her big, blue eyes at me, I sighed, my resolve weakening. If there was one person I’d take instead of my brother, it was her. She would make a fine distraction, and after spending so many hours worrying about her and my brother, it might be nice to simply revel in the fact that she was fine.

At least one of them was. I didn’t know what I’d do if something had happened to them both.

With a short nod, Lola and I drew out of the house. Besides not wanting to leave my brother, I also wanted to be a part of the planning. But, honestly, I was practically just a loyal henchman. I did whatever they wanted me to, and I did it with no hesitation. Even if we faced our deaths here thanks to Bianca DeLuca, I would not back down. I’d kill them all if I had to, for Mike, for vengeance, for trying to turn Lola to their side.

Lola could’ve done it too, I realized as our shoes hit the dirt just beyond the cabin’s steps. Her arm was still interlocked with mine, her short, small frame such a switch from mine. She was unassuming and when she wasn’t grinning her crazy smile, she looked harmless.

She wasn’t, though. Lola Harding was beyond dangerous, a serial killer who’d killed for years now. She had no loyalty to the Lucianos, none at all. The way they’d all treated her, especially in the beginning, had been awful. A bitch on a leash. But now, things were different, and I was reminded of that every time I looked at her, each time I watched Sylvester or Maddox with her.

They used to hate her, and now that feeling was drowned out by something else.

Since we couldn’t exactly walk into town, we chose to hike through the woods. She had to let go of me in order to focus on where she walked; there were no true hiking trails here, so it involved a lot of ducking out of the way of branches and stepping over fallen trees.

Lola was the one who broke through the silence of our walk, saying, “I’m sure your brother will be fine.” I opened my mouth to respond, but I realized I didn’t quite know what to say, so I said nothing. She took that as a cue to keep going, though, adding, “I don’t think Big Daddy would have a doctor coming here who didn’t know what he was doing.”

Big Daddy? Her nickname for Richie was amusing, and I caught myself smiling, even if only for a few moments. Richie would absolutely loathe that name, and if he ever heard her say it, he might just try killing her himself.

I didn’t want to talk about Mike, not right now. Instead, I changed the subject, referencing what they were discussing back at the cabin, “This might be the end for us. All of us.” Yes, it might not matter how good that doctor was; we might die in this fight, anyway.

“It won’t be.”

I stopped walking, staring at her. Lola kept moving for a few more paces, but then she realized I’d stopped, turning to face me with a slight smile. She practically beamed, so sure of herself and us. How could she possibly know we would all make it through this? There were no guarantees in life, even if you weren’t caught up in a blood war like this.

As if sensing my doubt, she took a step toward me, stopping when she stood in front of me, mere inches separating us. Her chin tilted upward, her eyes locking with mine. “This won’t be the end for you, or any of the Lucianos,” she said. “I’m going to do whatever I have to to make sure you make it through this.”

My jaw hardened. “And what about you?”

Yes, what about Lola? Maybe it was stupid, but I didn’t want to see a day when she wasn’t there. She might be grating sometimes, but other times, it was like she was the air I needed to fill my lungs. God, that sounded pathetic, didn’t it? This girl had me caught in her web, and I didn’t even know how the hell it happened.

The smile she gave me then told me all I needed to know. Lola genuinely thought we would all make it through… but she wouldn’t. Just from the expression on her face, I could tell she thought she would die. Or maybe she wanted to—and that possibility made my blood run hot with rage.

“We all know I’m more expendable than you guys,” she said. “If someone has to die, it should be me. I’m not… I’m not one of you. It isn’t like I can have a future. Remember, I dug my own grave when I killed Di—” She stopped herself from saying whatever it was she was moments from saying, correcting herself, “Mario. And, before that, I knew for years I was never meant to have a happy ending.”

I took a tiny step toward her, angling my head down as I glared, the fury I felt at her words unbearable. “Stop it,” I hissed. “Stop acting like, like you’re expendable. You might’ve been at the beginning, but now? Now you’re a part of this, a part of us, whether you like it or not.”

Because I couldn’t help myself, and also because I wanted her to see the truth in my eyes, I brought my hands to her neck, holding onto the sides of her throat as my fingers wove through her hair. Not exactly a tender, loving gesture, but now wasn’t the time for an act like that, anyway. Now was the time to make this girl realize just how important she was to me.

And that I couldn’t lose her.

“You’re a part of me,” I whispered, lowering my forehead to hers as I shut my eyes. Her skin was so soft on mine, so cool and perfect. I almost felt too fucked up to be near her. “I refuse to lose you, to let you go off and play the hero. None of us are heroes here, Lola. Not a single one.”

Lola hummed in my grip, her chest heaving against mine as she breathed in deeply. She did not dare to pull away from me, did not try to twist away from my grasp—good, because then I would’ve had to chase her, and right now chasing was the last thing I wanted to do.

What did I want? I wanted to breathe her in, to relish in the feeling of her smooth skin on mine. I wanted to let go, let it all go. I… I wanted comfort in the most carnal way.

“If you die, we all die,” I murmured, my nose grazing hers as our lips neared.

“If we win, do you think Daddy Luciano will forgive me for killing his son?”

At that, my eyelids lifted just a crack. Lola stared at me, desperate for an answer I could not give her, and that made my heart hurt. My tattooed hands gripped her neck and her hair harder, and I whispered, “If we win, I will do everything I can to protect you.” Even then, it might not be enough, but it was all I could do, all I could say. I was never a man to promise anything, especially going against the one man I was loyal to above all others… but for her, for her I would bring the entire world down.

And then, because we might not have much time left in this world and there was no better time than the present, I spoke quietly, “I love you.” Maybe my love was fragmented, maybe it was a bad time with everything going on, but if we died next week, I wanted her to know how badly she’d gotten under my skin.

She let out a soft laugh, and I pulled my head back, unable to stop the glare from forming. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you,” she swore up and down, lifting up her hands and holding onto my arms. “It’s just… I literally just realized the same earlier today. Or was it last night?” Again, she chuckled. “I don’t even know. What is time? I—”

I had no doubt in my mind that she would’ve gone on forever and ever, but what she’d said finally sunk into my thick skull: she realized the same. Lola loved me back. Wasn’t that what everyone wanted to know after confessing their own feelings?

So I kissed her. I brought my mouth to hers so quickly I think I surprised her. Whatever else she was seconds from saying, she had no chance in saying it. I swallowed her future words, stealing her breath, devouring everything she was as I let passion guide me.

Lola’s lips melded to mine, supple and wanting, just as hungry as I was. Within the next moment, I had her spine backed up against a tree, my body grinding against hers as I ate up whatever sounds that managed to escape her. My hands left her neck, roaming down her sides, tugging at her clothes, wishing I could tear them right off her.

God, I wanted her so bad. I didn’t care that Sylvester and Maddox were with her. I didn’t care that her heart belonged to all of us. As much as I would love to have her to myself forevermore, I didn’t mind sharing her, so long as I had her. So long as she was mine.

Mine. That word fit so well here.

Her mouth: mine. The beautiful, sensual groans coming out between our kisses: mine. The way her chest heaved upon me, supple and tempting: mine. The squirming her lower half did as I ground my hardening midsection upon her: all fucking mine. Every last piece of her was mine, and no one was going to take her from me.

Lola turned her head, and I trailed my mouth along her jaw, kissing up to her ear and nibbling on the lobe. She let out the breathiest sigh I’d ever heard before asking, “Is that a banana in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” She laughed at her own joke.

Gone were the days when I’d held myself back from her. Gone was the time when I tried to fight what I felt for her. Instead of pulling back and putting distance between us, I did something the old me never would’ve done and suggested, “Why don’t you reach down and see for yourself?” A teasing offer I knew she wouldn’t pass up.

“Don’t mind if I do,” she muttered, grinning a sly, mischievous grin as she felt me up. Her palm rubbed against the outline of my dick, stroking it through the fabric, and I felt my top half shudder.

I reached back to take the gun out of my pants, dropping it to the dirt below. “Maybe,” I suggested, “you should take it out just to be sure.”

Lola didn’t have to be told twice. In the blink of an eye, she was working to undo my belt and my pants, and I gave her just enough space between us so she could undo the zipper and pull my length out, stroking it with a hand so soft there were none in the world to rival it.

A groan left me. God, that felt good. The only thing that felt better, in fact, was her mouth, and obviously her cunt. Right now, though, I was content to let her touch it, let her play with me. We were in no hurry to get back, and there wasn’t a better distraction in the entire world than the girl pinned between me and the tree.

She was enough to make me forget what was going on in that cabin, enough to make all logical thoughts leave my mind. All worries, all concerns, gone like that. I didn’t know what it was about her that drove me so crazy, but there had to be something to get me to act like this, to get me to want her so badly I didn’t care what happened between me and the Luciano sons as a result.

Could we share a woman together for an extended period of time? I had no idea, but I needed to try. We needed to try. To lose Lola… I didn’t think I could bear it at all.

“I was wrong,” Lola murmured, eyes slit as she stared at me. “That’s not a banana… it’s a snake.” She leaned toward me, pressing those full lips upon my neck and causing me to groan as she sucked a tender spot.

My hands grasped her hips, and I fumbled to get her pants down. It killed me to not be inside her, to not feel her tight core clamping down on my cock. That morning, when Sylvester had discovered us together, I admit, I didn’t fight her. I could’ve pulled her off me, but I didn’t. I didn’t, because I wanted her more than anything in the entire world. Even if it was wrong, even if the Luciano brothers had claimed her body—I wanted her, too.

I wanted her everything. Her body, her crazy mind, the sly smiles and the bloodlust. I wanted everything Lola encompassed, and I couldn’t remember ever feeling the same about another girl. I’d had girlfriends, sure, but none were as all-consuming as she was. She had devoured me, and unless she spit me up, I was quite content with where I was.

I breathed hard, managing to say, “I need to be inside of you.” As much as her hand felt great wrapped around my dick, I needed to feel her body shudder as I filled her up. This girl… she was addicting in the best way, and if something ever happened to her, if we made it through this and Richie decided to kill her, I’d never be the same.

I… I might give up the life. I might walk away, because what was the point in everything if you weren’t happy? Lola made me happy, and I would fight tooth and nail to keep her.

Lola dropped her hand, leaning her head back against the tree as her eyes fell to my exposed cock. “Go ahead,” she purred out, “I won’t stop you.” She grinned, flashing her perfectly white and straight teeth, the smile of someone who wasn’t quite all there in the head but didn’t give a shit.

None of us here were sane, and we were liars if we said we were.

I yanked Lola’s pants down, tugging aside her lacy panties. A part of me wanted to tear them off with my teeth, but now wasn’t the time to completely lose it. Being with her in the woods, in the middle of fucking nowhere, was losing it enough. Plus, the time it would take for me to do that would be time I wasted not being inside of her. You had to pick your battles, you see.

Wrapping an arm around Lola’s ass, I picked her up, using the tree as support as I gripped the base of my shaft and guided myself into the hole between her legs. She flung her arms around my neck, letting out a feminine sigh as I pushed into her. Her grip on me was iron strong, her arms around me locked.

She was everything I remembered and more. So much more, because now I knew how she felt. With Lola, you might think you knew, but unless she told you point-blank, you were in the dark. Now I knew she felt for me, and that only served to further what I felt for her.

Love. I was so in love with this crazy girl.

And so I fucked her against the tree. I fucked her so hard there might be bruises on her back later today from the hot and heavy session, but I couldn’t stop myself, nor did she ask me to lighten up. If anyone liked it rough and wild, it was Lola. Just another part of her that was perfect for us, for this family… for me.

She was perfect for me, and I’d be damned if I ever let her go. If Lola thought she would walk to her death in this war with the DeLucas, she was wrong. She wouldn’t be alone. I’d be right there beside her, because if she was going to go out swinging, so was I.

Her cunt was tight, and the position we were in lent to some resistance, but it made her feel tighter, and I let out a moan when I was inside her as deep as I could go. Her body felt perfect wrapped around my length, like it was made for me, meant for me.

One of my hands pressed flat upon the tree bark beside her head, and I withdrew my hips, jerking into her again. I could not get enough; it was almost like I was an animal, seeking its mate, its pleasure and its release, nothing else on my mind. Lola brought out my inner animal, my inner viper, even though I tried to keep the beast at bay. With her, it broke out of its cage just to consume everything she was.

My blood ran hot, my balls slapping as I pumped into her. Every so often, Lola let out a grunt or a moan, telling me that she needed this as much as I did. So, I went at her harder, fiercer, and I hoped after this she would know in her heart of hearts I didn’t just tell her I loved her because of everything going on.

It was true. If there was one thing in my soul I knew was true, it was my feelings for this girl. How crazy she drove me, how much she was on my mind, even when I wasn’t with her. Fate had sought to bring us together, and now I’d never let her go. Hell or high water, Lola and I would be together until the end.

Pressure built inside of me, my breathing ragged and rough. My thrusts became shorter as I lost myself to the pleasure that had been building ever since meeting my mouth with hers earlier. An orgasm swept through me like a violent tide, a surge, wave upon wave of bliss as I came inside her, coating her inner walls with my seed. Hot, sticky cum that might leak out into those lacy panties, but it would only serve as a reminder of our time together.

I didn’t pull out right away, not wanting this moment to end, not wanting to go back to the cabin just yet. Surely they were still talking, surely Richie didn’t want us to return just yet? Maybe we could go for another round, a different position, or something.

It was as I was thinking about suggesting it out loud when I heard footsteps. Footsteps coming from someone who was obviously not us. I had no idea who it could be, but they were coming from the direction of the cabins, which told me enough.

Though it was the last thing I wanted to do, I withdrew from her, stuffing myself away and hurrying to pull up my pants. I couldn’t even tell Lola to hurry up in fixing herself, for I was too busy staring off through the trees as I zipped up my pants and worked on my belt next. My cock was still hard, though; there was only enough time to put it away, but not enough to get rid of the evidence of what we’d been doing. It could be anyone walking towards us, after all.

A figure emerged from the trees, and my back straightened when I saw who it was. The tattooed neck. The dark clothes. The muscles and half-shaven head. The pitch-black hair and equally dark eyes.

Maddox.

And his dark stare wasn’t on me for long; it moved to Lola after seeing the imprint of my cock in my pants. I threw a glance over my shoulder to see that Lola was unhurried in yanking her panties back in place and pulling up her pants, which meant—

Almost immediately, I was tackled to the ground, a fist connecting with my jaw, causing me to see stars for a few moments. Maddox wrestled with me, and though I knew I could put up more of a fight, I also knew now was not the time to.

“What the fuck—” Maddox grunted, and though I tried to stop him from punching me again, he landed another on the side of my head.

“Maddox!” Lola hissed, but she made no moves to try to peel him off me. Smart. When Maddox was upset, he tended to lash out at everyone. He was not a master at controlling his emotions, not at all.

“You think you can do whatever the fuck you want with her, hmm?” Maddox growled the words out, one hand wrapping around my throat so hard he immediately stifled all breath out of me. His other hand reached into the waistband of his pants, where his gun sat, its steel a matte black. He took the safety off and leaned it against the side of my head, and all struggling from me stopped.

Fuck. I knew Sylvester, Maddox, and I should’ve sat down and had a talk. Their family wasn’t good with talking, though, so it never happened. I didn’t know why I expected anything different.

I stared up at Maddox, seeing nothing but a man blinded by rage. His breathing was hard, furious, and the gun against my temple felt cool. I tried to stay calm, but I did not reach for him again, knowing he was rash enough to pull the trigger without thinking of the consequences. Such as: I was one of the few who were still loyal to him and his family—keeping away from Lola was just not something I could do anymore.

“Are you going to kill me for being with the girl I love?” I asked, waiting for his rashness to end it all. What a pathetic end this would be for me, but I refused to back down, to apologize. I might not be equal to the man straddling me and holding his gun against my head, but I was not a dog he could shoot whenever he pleased.

“I should kill you for being with the girl I love,” Maddox grumbled back.

“Whoa there, cowboy,” Lola spoke, her voice low and soothing enough to get Maddox’s attention away from me, at least temporarily. His dark eyes were on her as she went on, “You’re not going to shoot Viper. You’re going to get off him and apologize.”

Maddox sneered. “And why the fuck would I do that?”

“Because I need you both, and I’m so sick of the dick-measuring contest. You both have really nice ones, okay? Can we just leave it at that?” Lola’s voice was only a teeny bit annoyed with Maddox’s antics, and I knew Maddox was too bullheaded to notice it himself. “God,” she said, “I think I’ve said this word more today than I ever have in my entire life.” She folded her arms across her chest, thinking back. “Am I fucked up or what, for being in love with you assholes?”

The pressure of the gun against my temple lessened, but Maddox didn’t pull away completely. He stared at her, squinty-eyed, trying to piece it all together. “But—do you really—for real?” It was like he couldn’t get out a full sentence to save his life, which would’ve been amusing if his finger wasn’t on the trigger of a gun near my head.

“Unless you’re going to kill me,” I spoke, causing Maddox’s stare to return to me, “get off me.”

Maddox actually looked like he couldn’t decide what he’d rather do, but Lola came closer, setting a hand on his shoulder. Her touch visibly soothed him, and I watched him get off me, finally—albeit begrudgingly. I was on my feet the next moment, rubbing my jaw. It hurt already, by the way.

“Good job,” Lola had to praise him like he was a child who’d resisted going into the cookie jar, but in this case the cookie jar was my brain.

I resisted my urge to roll my eyes as I went for my own gun, which still rested near the trunk of the tree we’d just fucked against. Things might’ve been different if I had my weapon on me, or things would’ve just been messier.

Maddox could not stop glaring at me. “Does Sylvester know about this?” He was hesitant to put away his gun; it was almost like he wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to let me go yet or not. Lola would kill him if he killed me, that much I was certain of.

“He does,” Lola spoke with a shrug. “He’s known for a while, actually.”

Maddox gaped at her. “What? He’s fucking known for a while and he didn’t fucking tell me?” The word fuck was his favorite word when he was angry, clearly. Even to someone who didn’t have to deal with him on a daily basis, it would be obvious. “Why the fuck not?”

“Maybe,” I started, careful not to stand too close to Lola, lest Maddox get furious again, “he knew you would react like this and try to kill me.” If I sounded bitter, that’s because I was. I’d been loyal to his family for all these years, and he’d kill me for fucking the girl he apparently loved.

I mean, I would feel the same, but luckily for my sanity I was not Mad Maddox. And, anyway, the girl in question was the girl we all had feelings for. Weren’t we man enough to admit it?

Maddox frowned. “I guess.”

“I think you should put your gun away,” Lola advised, “because you’re not going to shoot Viper.” She leaned against his arm, turning her full charms on him. A wide, toothy grin spread across her face. “Maddox is in love. Who knew something like that was even possible? Remember when you came to my room to kill me but then you ended up fucking me instead?” She giggled. “Good times, good times.” Suddenly she turned serious as she stared between Maddox and me. “Hey, you just tried to kill him. Maybe you should fuck him now—”

Growling out a breath, Maddox pulled away from her and gave us both his back. “On that note, I’m going back to the fucking cabin.”

Lola looked at me and shrugged. “It was just a suggestion.”

There was a lot I could’ve said to Lola right then, but I kept it to myself as I caught up with Maddox, my shoes crunching on the dead leaves below. “Why did you come out looking for us?” I asked. Maddox should be with his father and his brother, planning our comeback. Or our last stand. However you wanted to look at it.

“I figured you might want to meet the doctor who’s going to be pulling those bullets out of your brother and fixing him up,” Maddox grunted, and in a few more moments, we emerged out of the tree line, and I saw that a new vehicle sat beside the ones we’d brought here.

My heart skipped a beat. The doctor was here. I must’ve been too lost in Lola and the feeling of being inside her to hear the car pull up. Shit. We never should’ve strayed too far from the cabin.

I needed to talk to him, to meet him, to make sure he knew damn well that my brother was everything to me, the only family I had left—and if he fucked this up, I would fuck him up, in turn. That was a promise.

Chapter Six – Lola

I thought suggesting the two of them fuck was a very reasonable thing, considering Maddox’s history with trying to kill me and then, you know, fucking my brains out. It was more like a habit now, I think, something that had, at first, startled me into acceptance, and then when I realized how fun it was, I was all for it.

I guess dicks weren’t everyone’s cup of tea, though. Sad, because I think it’d be a hot sight.

Viper and Maddox were a bit ahead of me, mumbling amongst themselves. I could’ve hurried to their sides, could’ve asked them to tell me what the fuck they were talking about, but I didn’t, because I couldn’t let myself care.

Don’t get me wrong, I did, I cared a whole lot more than I wished I did, but in order to do what we had to do, in order to go back to that city and show Bianca DeLuca up, I had to be in the right headspace, and constantly weeping over Mike’s immobile body was not going to help me get there.

A new car sat near ours, I discovered once we were out of the forest. The trees had been cut near the cabins and the driveway; the crisp and clear blue sky of the wilderness above us. The new car was off, meaning it’d gotten here a little while ago, since no one was currently in it.

Well, shit. If that was the doctor… that explained why Maddox left the cabin and the planning to get us. Viper, rather. Not me.

And, believe me, it was a good thing Maddox had not killed Viper, because if he would’ve let his anger and jealousy take over, I would’ve given him a piece of my mind—and he certainly would not have liked it.

Like, come on. We were all one big family now, weren’t we? No need to get jealous. I’d said it before, and I meant it: there was plenty of me to go around. More than enough. Possibly even too much me. I think, sometimes, I could be a little much.

I followed Maddox and Viper to the front porch of the cabin, not knowing what to expect. From the story Daddy Luciano had told earlier, I expected someone old, someone who kept their medical practice in the back of their car, even if that car was a nice, shiny black sportscar. I was expecting a grizzled old man, maybe with a constant stink eye, who looked like he hated the world and only did what he did because of his loyalty to the family, to the Scotts, whoever the fuck they were.

The person I saw when we walked into the cabin was not that. Not at all.

I froze near the door, leaving it wide open behind me as I stared at the new guy. He wasn’t old. In fact, I’d say he was in his thirties, maybe? Pitch black hair, equally dark eyes, muscles that nearly put Viper’s and Maddox’s to shame. Super tall, probably about as tall as Roman, and that hitman was like a fucking giant. Sexy and alluring, yes, in the dark and dangerous kind of way. Definitely my kind of man. He didn’t scream doctor to me, though.

He was currently locked in a conversation with Richard, and Sylvester stood off to the side, near Carter. Roman had gone, I assumed back to the other cabin with his girl. Both Carter and Sylvester currently stared at the newcomer as if they didn’t know what to think of him.

That made three of us.

“He seems…” Sylvester stopped, glancing at Maddox. “Slightly unhinged, like you.” At that, Maddox could only glare and harrumph.

I brought my stare back to the man, dragging my gaze along him. The way he stood was akin to the way a hunter would, someone who was always aware of their surroundings, someone who you could never catch off-guard. Feet spread apart, arms hanging at his sides, he wore dark jeans and a black t-shirt, and the shirt’s fabric hugged the veiny, bulging muscles on his arms.

If I wasn’t a gal in love, I would imagine climbing that motherfucker like a tree. Hell, I still might’ve…

“Who is he?” Viper whispered, and almost simultaneously, the man and Richard left the living room, heading down the hall, towards Mike’s room.

Carter and Sylvester didn’t get a chance to answer, for within another moment, the man returned, without Richard at his side. His black gaze narrowed at us—okay, mostly at me, I think. He spoke, “Who the fuck are you supposed to be?” His voice was low and gruff, and he sounded ticked off, like he was ready to strangle anyone who gave him an answer he didn’t like.

I think I liked this guy.

As a smile broke out on my face, Viper stepped forward, saying, “Viper. Mike’s my brother.”

The man nodded. “Doc’ll take care of him, I’m sure.”

Wait. Doc? I glanced past Maddox, at Sylvester and Carter, but the two men were silent. It was then another man emerged from the hall, followed shortly by Richard. This man was not nearly as tall as the other newcomer, and not nearly as muscled, either. He was… well, he looked like a normal guy, actually. Clean pants, a white button-down shirt. No bulging muscles. Light brown hair, coupled with green eyes that seemed to light up when he saw us. And glasses. The guy was actually wearing glasses.

Just… what?

He stopped before us, saying, “Don’t worry, I’m confident I can get the bullets out with minimal damage. I don’t think anything major was affected, but it’s hard to tell without a scan. Your brother should be fine.” As he spoke, he grinned, and it was not a crazy smile, and there were no glints of madness in his eyes. The doctor was… normal, which was just strange. Around the same age as the other man, but not at all the kind of person you’d think of when you imagined a family like the Lucianos.

I couldn’t stop staring at him, and then the doctor turned his green eyes upon me. That smile… too normal. Too sane-looking. I didn’t like him, I instantly decided. I didn’t like him at all.

“Uh, I need to get some things from the car,” he mumbled.

“Go ahead,” I said.

“You’re… you’re kind of in the way,” he added, to which I realized I was, and I stepped aside, letting him out. Richard and Viper had disappeared into the hall, probably to watch over Mike, which left Carter, Maddox, Sylvester, and I to stare at the other guy.

That other one… I couldn’t take my eyes off him, and I found myself gravitating toward him as he headed towards the kitchen. The guys were near me, whether they didn’t trust me to be close to the newcomer or they didn’t trust him, I had no idea. All I knew was I needed to know more about this guy, whoever he was.

A tall drink of delicious, yummy water.

The man’s dark eyes locked with mine, and he let his gaze drop to my feet, slowly lifting it, taking in my stance, my body, the smile on my lips. He did not appear too impressed, not at all. “Who’s the crazy bitch with the smile on her face?”

I knew Maddox and Sylvester would prickle at that, so I was quick to say, “The crazy bitch is Lola. Who are you?”

His eyes were narrowed on me. “Lincoln, not that it’s any of your fucking business. Normally, Markus makes the house calls, but he was busy with… again, none of your business.” His head cocked, his lips pursing into a frown as he folded his arms over his chest and glared down at me. “I get it now. That look in your eyes, I know why it’s irritating the fuck out of me.”

Lincoln. What a name for such a ridiculously sexy man. Was it possible to have a crush on someone else while in love with three other people? Hmm.

“And why’s that?” I had to ask. I had to know. Anything this man wanted to say, I was here for it, one hundred percent, grinning up at him to the point where Maddox and Sylvester kept trading glances.

Oh, they had nothing to worry about. This sexy stranger wouldn’t steal me or anything… Although I would be down for some hookups if everyone else was okay with it. I mean, God, Lincoln was like sex on a stick.

So were my guys, mind you, but he was new and shiny. Like the newest toy on Christmas day, he had my attention.

The man didn’t look too thrilled to say, “You remind me of Stella.”

“Is that a good thing?”

Lincoln turned away from me, grumbling out, “Depends on the hour.” He moved into the kitchen, starting to go through all the cabinets. “Now, what the fuck do you guys have to eat in here?”

Stella. So he had a girl. Of course he did. That was fine, though, because I had my guys, too. My kitten needed to reel herself in and be happy with what she had. Three amazing dicks and the assholes attached to them. I was living the dream already, really. It wasn’t like I wanted a guy for every day of the week.

Although that would be fun, too…

Sylvester grabbed my hand, pulling me away from Lincoln, who’d discovered a box of unopened cereal and was in the process of tearing into it. He dragged me to the couch, sitting me down first, then taking his spot beside me. Maddox huddled on my other side, and soon enough I was in the middle of a man sandwich—though I still kept throwing glances Lincoln’s way.

He was just sticking his hand into the box, not even bothering to get a bowl. Savage.

Carter, meanwhile, remained stationary in the kitchen, unable to hide his glare. That, or not caring enough to try to mask it. Lincoln noticed, and in the next moment, the two men were frowning as they glared at each other.

They were, I realized, quite alike, and I burst out laughing, causing them both to turn those glares upon me. “What?” they both hissed in unison, and then they shot icy stares at each other, which only made me laugh more.

“You don’t see it?” I asked, still laughing to myself. I nudged Sylvester and Maddox, who were both currently staring at me like I was crazy. “Tell me you guys see it.” Neither one said or did anything, shocking me. “Really? I’m the only one? Jeez.”

“What is the crazy bitch going on about?” Lincoln spoke with a mouthful of cereal.

“Her name is Lola,” Maddox growled out, “and unless you want her to slit your throat in the middle of the night, stop calling her that.” Ah, right. The protective Maddox, because he was the only one who could call me a crazy bitch.

The doctor came in carrying a few leather totes, and he said nothing as he walked towards Mike’s room down the hall.

Lincoln swallowed what was in his mouth before saying, “Look, I live in a house full of killers. If you think I’m scared of that wiry bitch, you have another thing coming.” Before he could say anything else, his phone rang, and he answered it, saying, “What?” The one on the other line must’ve asked if they arrived here safely, for he said, “Yeah, we’re here. Doc’s about to pull the bullets out and stitch him up.” His jaw ground. “What? Of course I’m being fucking civil, Markus—”

How I wished I could’ve listened to whoever was on the other line, for the way Lincoln’s face twisted into a scowl was quite hilarious.

“I don’t give two shits if swearing is uncouth or whatever,” Lincoln went on, practically shouting into the phone. “I shouldn’t even be here. You should. It’s fucking ridiculous is what it is—no, no, don’t even bring up the fucking ginger—”

“Well,” I spoke to the brothers around me, “he seems to have a lot of baggage, huh?”

“Yeah,” Maddox mumbled, turning his serious expression to me. “Now, if you could stop staring at him like you want to jump his bones, that’d be great.”

I tried to act shocked, clueless, completely innocent of it, but I ended up looking utterly obvious, so I just shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Says the girl who was just getting fucked in the woods by Viper—”

At that, Sylvester said, “What?”

“Oh, yeah,” Maddox went on, “and apparently you already know all about it. Funny how you never told me shit, Sylvester.” I could feel him fuming beside me, his body tense and stiff. Thought our earlier fucking would’ve helped get rid of that, but apparently not.

Sylvester stared at him. “I was waiting for the right time, because I knew how you’d react. I’m surprised Viper didn’t come back with a bullet in his back.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Maddox hissed. “Like I would’ve shot him in the back.” Basically saying he would’ve shot him in the front, which, yes, he had been seconds from doing, admittedly. An enraged Maddox was certainly a sexy Maddox, in my opinion.

Collectively, we all must’ve been too loud, for Viper came storming down the hall, a severe look on his face. He brought his stare to all of us, even Lincoln, who was now just hanging up the phone. “Can you all shut it? He needs silence to focus.”

Right. The doctor was about to pull those bullets from Mike’s body, and we would only be distractions if we kept up the yelling and the arguing.

I leaped to my feet the moment Viper left, and I declared, “I think it’s time I met Zoey.” It was such a random thing to say, but if I stayed here, nestled between Maddox and Sylvester, I doubted we’d be quiet. “Carter, you want to come with?” I figured I’d invite him, since she was his girl, too.

“I’ll go,” Sylvester started, but I shook my head.

“No, it’s okay. Stay here. Let me know if… if anything happens,” I told him, and finally he understood that I didn’t want him or Maddox with me when I met Zoey. As far as I knew, the girl wasn’t like me in the serial killer aspect, so I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Storming the other cabin with my mafia men in tow might just be a little much.

Carter threw one last look at Lincoln before mumbling, “Yeah, let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Together, we left the cabin, heading to the one that stood a few hundred feet away. As we walked, I couldn’t help but think back to the glaring contest between Carter and Lincoln, and a chuckle bubbled its way up my throat.

“I really don’t like that guy,” Carter mumbled, for once not unhappy to be in my presence, which was so unlike him. Usually he spent as much time as he could near me complaining about being forced to go with me to the Gilded Rose. Yeah, clearly that wasn’t going to be happening again anytime soon.

“You don’t see it, do you?” I questioned, giving him the side eye.

“See what?” Carter’s mouth was nothing more than a thin line on his jaw, his teeth grinding.

Did I really have to explain it to him? Apparently so. These guys thought they were so smart and all that, but in the end, they were just as stupid and clueless as the rest of us, huh? Grinning ear to ear, I said, “You and Lincoln are the same.”

That earned me a scowl. “What? No fucking way.”

We neared the other cabin, and we paused at the base of the wooden steps that led to the front porch. “You are,” I told him. “Both kind of grumpy and mean. You both have a thing for the word fuck. You’re both tall and handsome and—”

“All right,” Carter grumbled. “I get it.” He pushed past me, heading up the steps first, and I held back the laughter that threatened to spill over once again. He was definitely not thrilled to be compared to Lincoln, and that made the whole thing funnier, if you asked me.

Smiling to myself, I followed him to the door. I peeked inside before stepping in. I didn’t see Roman; not sure if he was in one of the backrooms or what, but I did spot the girl in question, along with another guy who looked to be around my age. She did too, actually. Maybe a year or two younger than me, but not much.

Zoey was… not at all what I was expecting. Don’t ask me what I was anticipating, because I had no fricking idea, but as I met the light, watery-blue eyes of the girl sitting cross-legged on the floor in the living room, I knew it was not her.

For one, she had bright pink hair. Like, wow, pink. So fucking pink and neon I think I partially went blind while I was looking at her. Her hair was cut shorter, framing her face, resting just above her shoulders. She wore a loose t-shirt, one of her arms wrapped in a bandage; the arm that got shot.

She seemed normal, just like that doctor, which I found so strange.

Before Carter could introduce me—although I wasn’t sure if he would, since he and I weren’t exactly best buds—I walked around the couch and plopped myself on the floor beside Zoey and the other guy. They were playing some kind of card game, and until I sat down, neither of them looked at me. They were either ignoring me… or really, really into this card game, whatever it was.

Zoey looked up, her eyes wrinkling as she smiled, while the guy across from her had a wide-eyed and startled look that made him appear quite awkward. He was blonde-haired and blue-eyed, but he didn’t remind me of my brother at all. His shoulders were hunched a bit, and he was kind of thin—not the typical muscled man I was used to around here. He wore a t-shirt with the Superman logo on it, and his blonde hair fell over his forehead.

Cute enough, but kind of nerdy. Not really my type. Zoey, on the other hand, must have an eclectic taste in men to be with both Carter and Roman… and this guy, whoever he was.

“Uh, hello there?” the guy spoke, sounding unsure of himself, as if he wasn’t certain if he was allowed to say hello to me. Last I checked, there were no rules against it, but who knew?

“Hi,” I said, beaming as I glanced between him and Zoey. Now that I was thinking about it, Zoey didn’t seem like Roman and Carter’s type, either. The pink hair, the innocence that seemed to radiate off her… no, she seemed normal, too. I mean, unless she was good at hiding her inner psycho or something, which could be possible.

Then again, compared to me, nearly every girl was innocent and angelic. Couldn’t all be crazy serial killers like me, could they?

“I’m Lola,” I added. “I’m with the others. You must be Zoey and…” I turned my gaze upon the guy. “I’m sorry, I have no idea who you are.”

He feigned hurt, setting down the cards in his hand before holding that same hand over his heart in a dramatic gesture. “What? You mean Carter and Roman don’t talk about me? I’m hurt. I don’t think I’ll ever recover—”

Zoey used her good arm to give him a playful shove, and he responded by laughing. It was all such a normal thing to witness, I almost forgot we were stuck in the middle of nowhere because of the DeLucas. “Ignore Lake. He still doesn’t know when sarcasm isn’t necessary,” she said, giving me a smile. “It’s good to meet you. I’ve heard… well, not exactly good things. Carter hates when he has to go out with you.”

If I were her, I might be jealous that my man was going out on a job with another woman, especially a pretty one. But she wasn’t. Zoey didn’t act jealous in the slightest, and I couldn’t help but wonder if that was just another trait of mine that was of the unhinged variety.

I glanced over my shoulder at Carter, who was in the kitchen, still looking quite unhappy that I’d dared to compare him and Lincoln. “Yeah,” I said, turning my gaze back to Zoey, “trust me, he complains the entire time he’s with me, too.” My gaze moved to her arm. “How are you holding up? I heard the Dollhouse was shot up.”

Zoey pursed her lips, slightly lifting her injured arm but unable to move it much without wincing. “I’m fine. I’m alive, thankfully. I don’t think they came to kill.” Her voice quieted as she said, “I think they just wanted to scare us, which, judging from how fast we got out of there, they definitely did.”

“The other workers?” I asked. It wouldn’t kill me to know innocent blood was on my hands—like, come on, I was a psychopath—but knowing they were girls made it worse, somehow. I’d kill ten innocent men before I ever killed an innocent chick. Gals had to stick together and all that.

“They’re fine,” she said. “A few of them got shot, but they went to the hospital. I wasn’t so lucky, since apparently they only went to the Dollhouse to get at me because I’m close to Roman and Carter.”

I turned my eyes toward the other guy, Lake. “And you?”

“Me? Oh, I’m with her,” he hurriedly spoke. “Wherever she goes, I go, and if someone’s after her, it probably isn’t too long before they’d come after me. Or at least, that’s the argument Zoey had with Roman and Carter to get them to agree to bring me here with them.” Lake paused, glancing around at the cabin, at its rustic interior. “It’s nice. It’s… kind of like a vacation, minus the getting shot at part.”

I didn’t want to tell either of them that this was kind of my fault, that the DeLucas wanted to get to me, so they had to separate Carter and me that night. Hey, at least they didn’t outright kill him, right? I assumed that was because they thought I’d go nuts if they did… and they were right. If I saw them kill Carter, I wouldn’t have gone so willingly to meet with their Bloody Princess.

“So, what do you guys do? How did you get wrapped up with Roman and Carter?” I asked, in no hurry to get back to the other cabin. Why not get to know these two a little better? They seemed so normal—too normal, almost. They were what I could’ve been, maybe, if my childhood wasn’t so shitty.

“I actually go to school,” Lake said, shrugging. “College, though I don’t know how this little vacation is going to go over with some of my professors.”

Zoey didn’t say anything right away, causing me to speak, “And you? Do you go to college, too?” College. University. It was something I never thought much about. Growing up, I never thought I’d live to see the day, or that I’d have a choice in what I did. To have the entire world at your fingertips, it must be exciting.

And exhausting.

“I used to,” she whispered. “But, uh, then I left. Somehow I found myself at the Dollhouse, and that’s where I met Roman and Carter. Lake’s my neighbor.”

Awe, how sickeningly adorable. I glanced between them, unable to stop smiling. “And how did you get Roman and Carter on board with this? With him, I mean.” With Lake. Honestly, I was curious, because I was kind of going through the same thing. This girl had three lovers, as did I. How did she keep them from getting jealous and trying to kill each other? I had to know if there were secrets to the trade.

Zoey chuckled quietly. “It was kind of like an ultimatum, sort of. I basically told Roman if he wanted me, he could have me, but I wanted to be able to live my life the way I wanted to, still—and that involved dragging Lake into the fray.”

“If you’re asking if it was smooth-sailing,” Lake cut in with a dimpled grin, “it wasn’t. I mean, the bastard kidnapped me twice—”

Carter was finished brooding in the kitchen, and he joined us in the living room, sitting on the couch, overlooking us all since we sat on the carpet just before it. “All Roman wanted to do was test your loyalty toward Zoey,” he grumbled, folding his arms over his chest, still appearing quite grumpy. “It wasn’t like he wanted to kidnap you. If we had our way, you’d be dead, floating downstream in the river.”

Zoey smacked his leg with her good arm, while Lake forced a smile and said, “Right, thanks for the reminder.” To me, he added, “I love her other boyfriends, can’t you tell?” His sarcasm made me chuckle.

“What?” Carter spoke, his wide shoulders going up and down once. “I’m just saying.”

“Huh,” I said, and I said nothing else, gazing down into my lap. Somehow knowing Roman and Carter would kill Lake if given the chance did not make me feel any better about my own situation with Maddox, Sylvester, and Viper. Would it always be the same with them? Would the two Luciano brothers always be at Viper’s throat because they didn’t see him as an equal?

I… I didn’t think I wanted that. Maybe it was wrong of me, but I wanted us to be one big, happy, fucked-up family. Family didn’t try to murder each other; my shitty family notwithstanding.

“Why so curious?” Zoey spoke. “Don’t tell me you’re involved with those other guys.” When I met her stare, she instantly knew. “Shit. You are. I mean, go you, if that’s what you want, but it isn’t easy, and most of the world still thinks a family is a man and a woman, no more, no less.”

“I’m not interested in easy,” I said, running a hand through my blonde hair, letting out a short sigh. “Nothing in my life has ever been simple or easy.”

“I hear that,” Zoey mumbled. “My parents would flip if they knew I had three boyfriends, but my sister? She’d be jealous, probably.” She said something under her breath, something that sounded like a swear word, and I had the feeling there was more to the story she wasn’t saying, but she and I weren’t friends. I didn’t need to know every detail of her life.

“My parents would die,” I said, picturing their faces, their blank, loveless eyes. “So I guess it’s a good thing they’re already dead.”

Lake laughed at me, thinking I was making a joke or something, but a quick glance in Carter’s direction, followed up by a glimpse at me and my serious face, told him everything he needed to know. “You’re… you’re not joking, are you?”

“I killed them,” I said, figuring there was no point in trying to pretend I was like either of them. I was more like Carter than anything, only worse because I killed on my own, not because someone told me to.

“Shit,” Lake muttered, and Zoey’s eyes widened.

“I, uh, I hope they had it coming” was all she was able to say.

“They were terrible people, so I’d say so.” Talking about my parents was not something I wanted to prolong, so I glanced down at the cards between them. “What are you playing?”

“Uh, Go Fish,” Lake started. “Zoey here doesn’t know how to play anything else. Apparently if you come from a rich family, you don’t know how to play rummy or poker.”

Ah, so Zoey came from money? I sized her up in a new light, suddenly understanding her a whole lot better. She might look innocent, but it’s because she was good at hiding her true self. People who were born with money usually were.

“Can I play?” I asked, figuring it’d be a good distraction. This whole thing, if I was honest with myself, was a giant distraction. There were still some things I never told the others, things I never wanted to say. Things I didn’t want to face. So here we were, here I was, begging to play Go Fish with two strangers.

“Sure,” Zoey said. “We’ll start a new game.” Her blue eyes, a lighter color than mine, turned to Carter, who sat on the couch, still kind of broody. “Carter, come on down and join us.”

“Fuck that,” Carter muttered.

A leveled, extended glare from Zoey managed to change his mind, and within five minutes, we were all sitting in a circle on the rug, Lake dishing out new hands to all of us. We made a motley crew, that’s for sure, but playing such a simple card game with them was actually fun.

Lake could not hold back his witty remarks every time Carter lost a card to someone else. Zoey used her feminine wiles to cheat and see Carter’s hand, which then caused Lake and I to band together to defeat them.

It was such a silly game, but it was fun. It was fun, and I found myself laughing. Like, genuinely laughing at other people, finding amusement in them. For a while there, I forgot who I was and what I was good at.

That was murder, by the way, in case you forgot.

We played a few games, and the leaders with the most wins were, unsurprisingly, Zoey and me. The two poor fools beside us were no more than pawns on our paths to victory. She could be a cutthroat gal in a competition, which I respected. Even though Zoey and I were two very different people, I realized I liked her. She wasn’t so bad. Not what I was expecting at all, but in a good way.

I didn’t know how much time passed, but sometime later there was a knock on the door, and we paused in our current game of Go Fish to see Sylvester popping his head in. The look in his eyes told me he needed to speak with me, so I gave the others a smile—well, Zoey and Lake a smile, anyway. Carter got nothing because he was Carter and still kind of grumpy because he kept losing.

After setting my cards down, I got up and went to him. We stood on the front porch, nothing but the crisp, clean air of nature around us. Afternoon was here, and I was exhausted. Felt like I hadn’t gotten sleep in ages, but that’s probably because it was true. Time. What the fuck was time?

I leaned on the railing, staring out at the horizon. The driveway was nothing but packed dirt, and it wound through the trees, back to the road, which was a good half-mile away. We were literally in the middle of nowhere. It was kind of a nice change, after everything.

“How’s he doing?” I asked. Now, I wouldn’t go so far as to say I was praying or anything for Mike, but I was hoping really, really fucking hard. He was a good guy. He didn’t deserve to go out like this.

Zoey should count herself lucky they only wanted Carter gone. They could’ve done much worse to her. She could be dead right now, and, in turn, I would be dead, too. Roman would’ve killed me, and none of the guys would’ve been able to stop him. When a monster was on a rampage, you either got out of the way until the rampage was over, or you succumbed to the violence. I didn’t blame Roman for putting it all on me.

It was all for me, anyway.

“He got the bullet out of his arm,” Sylvester said, leaning on the railing beside me. “Said the ones in his gut and chest will take a bit more time, since there’s more he has to dig through. He brought medicine and an IV, so at least the wounds shouldn’t get infected.”

“That’s good.”

Sylvester nodded along with me, turning those dark, stormy blue eyes upon me. The color of the sea before a hurricane. Beautiful and ominous. “Are you okay, Lola? You’ve been acting… kind of off.”

I managed to smile. “Don’t I always?” Hell, I was pretty fucking sure I never acted whatever the opposite of off was, since I never cared about what other people thought of me. I said what I wanted, I did what I wanted, with no regrets.

At least, that’s what I told myself, anyway.

He let out a loud breath, his expression hardening somewhat. “I mean more than usual. Did something else happen?” I said nothing for a while, which caused him to turn his body toward me, angling his head down. “What aren’t you telling me?”

An annoyed breath came from my lungs. He thought he knew me so well, huh? He thought he had me all figured out just because we cared for each other. Loved each other. Whatever. He… fuck. He knew me better than anyone had in a long time. No one had ever come close to understanding me, accepting me, other than him and his brother.

And Viper, whose brother was currently fighting for his life because of me.

I stared at him for a while, but was unable to hold his gaze for long. It was like he wasn’t blinking, or something. Freaky. Or maybe it was all in my head, because he was right. There was something I wasn’t telling him, but there was a reason for that, clearly. I didn’t keep things to myself just for fun, you know; I kept them tucked away inside of myself because I knew how much it would hurt me to admit it all aloud.

My heart did something weird in my chest: it beat a little faster in anticipation, and not the good kind. More like dread, fear, trepidation, whatever. Not a good feeling, and not something I was used to. Even after all this, I worried Sylvester would look at me differently, like I was weak or something. Like my strength was a lie.

“There is… something,” I started, feeling my palms start to sweat. “I didn’t want to tell you. I figured everything with the DeLucas would be enough for you to focus on. I didn’t want…” My gaze fell to the ground just beyond the porch. “I didn’t want you to do anything stupid. Right now, we need to focus on the DeLucas.”

That’s what I told myself… and yet, it felt like a lie, because how could I ever focus on the DeLucas when my brother was out there, thinking I would return to him? Go home with him and act like everything was fine? What a delusional prick.

“What? What is it? Lola, tell me,” Sylvester spoke, his jaw setting. “Now isn’t the time for games.”

“My brother.”

He blinked. “What?”

“My brother is in town. I ran into him, after my meeting with Bianca. He said I tried to contact him, that he was here to take me home.” Simply speaking of him made my stomach sick and my body sweat, a nauseating feeling rising up inside of me.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Let me… let me go grab Maddox. Stay here, okay?” Without waiting for me to say anything, he hurried down the steps, and I watched him go to the other cabin, an uneasy feeling in my gut.

That wasn’t the reaction I’d been expecting from him. He hadn’t sounded surprised at all, which would mean, what? That he was the one who contacted my brother? I wanted to laugh and deny the mere possibility, but I couldn’t, because him contacting Aiden sure made a lot more sense than me doing it, because I, not once in my life, ever thought of getting in touch with the sick fuck who was my baby brother.

I heard the door to the cabin behind me open, and I glanced back to see that Roman had finally come out of his hiding place, wherever it was. His dark eyes lingered on me for only a few moments before they shifted out to the horizon, to the nature spreading before us for miles. The dangerous man seemed so out of place here, so unused to nature and its, uh, naturalness.

Sorry, my brain wasn’t working like it should.

He said nothing, his hands in his pant pockets, and for a few seconds, we stood there in silence.

Because I was me, and because I couldn’t just let things be, I asked, “Don’t want to join in the Go Fish game inside?” My voice came out normal, but I knew it was a very thin line I danced near. Once I crossed it, once I lost it, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to come back. My brother made me crazy, go figure. Just thinking about him threatened to send me off the deep end.

How the fuck could I focus on helping these guys take back the city when I had other unfinished business refusing to be ignored?

“That game is for children,” Roman muttered, frowning.

“Well, your girl’s playing it, and Carter, too,” I told him, although on the way out of the cabin, he must’ve seen them all. “Does that make them children? Are you in a relationship with a child, Roman?” I couldn’t say why, but egging him on seemed like fun. Like a great distraction from what was currently on my mind: Sylvester getting Maddox, the impending discussion about my brother.

Yeah, wasn’t looking forward to that at all.

A thunderous sound came from Roman’s chest, and I chuckled, grinning ear to ear. It was too easy to rile him up. Just too fucking easy. “You know,” I went on, leaning on the railings as I glanced to the other cabin across the way. Sylvester and Maddox hadn’t emerged yet. “I do wonder why, with you being so… you, you’re interested in a girl with such a backbone. I feel like you need control.” Bringing my gaze to Roman, I cocked my head. “Am I wrong, big guy?”

Roman still looked like he wanted to strangle me; I think that was his usual expression anytime I was near, and I couldn’t blame the guy. Sometimes I wanted to strangle myself. “Sometimes,” he muttered, “the heart wants what it wants. I owe you no explanation for who I associate with.”

Associate with. That was a new way of putting it. Let’s just say, if I ever heard any of my guys saying all they did was associate with me, I’d be ticked. I’d give them a piece of my mind. I might just hurt them to remind them that it was so much more than an association between us.

“Hell,” I said, turning to lean on the railing with my back, my posture slouching, “I’m surprised you still let her work at the Dollhouse. I mean, doesn’t that mean other people see your girl take off her clothes and all that?”

Roman hissed out, “While it’s true I want no other man to look upon her, she is adamant that she continues to work. I’ve given her the manager position though, which means—”

“She keeps the place in order, counts the money, and doesn’t dance,” I finished for him. That last part was probably the most important part when it came to Roman and Zoey. He was so controlling, so dominant. If I wasn’t already involved with three other men, I might just be interested in joining their little group. Sure as hell sounded like they had some fun.

But, alas, so did we.

It was at that moment that I heard my name being called out from below, “Lola.”

I turned to see Sylvester and Maddox standing there, looking uneasy—which was odd. For a mafia boss’s son to wear those faces… well, it didn’t bode well, that much I could say, at least.

I gave a quick glance to Roman, matching it with a smile. “While it was fun talking to you, I am sad you didn’t try choking me again. Now that was fun.” Giving him a wink, I pushed off the railing. I started to move around him, heading down the steps and marching toward my guys. My boots crunched on the packed dirt below, and I didn’t know who to stare at.

Sylvester looked a bit guilty, while Maddox looked concerned and angry. None were their usual faces; they both looked absolutely out of place.

“Well?” I started, hands on my hips. “Is anyone going to tell me just what the fuck is going on? Because I sure as shit never tried to contact my brother, and that I’d swear on my life.” As little as it was worth.

Sylvester exchanged a quick glance with his brother, and Maddox mumbled, “Just tell her already. There’s no point in hiding it, now that she’s seen the motherfucker.” He spoke with hatred, utter loathing towards Aiden, and I knew the feeling. I was the first member to join the hating Aiden club, and not once in my life had anyone else ever wanted to join.

Maybe I could make us all t-shirts.

“Maddox and I,” Sylvester started, blue eyes back on me, the guilt in his expression practically palpable, “have been looking for him, ever since you told us what happened.”

Even though I’d been expecting him to say something like that, it still caught me off-guard, mostly because I didn’t understand the why part. Like, seriously. Why? Why look for my brother, why bring him there? Why lure him with me? I never wanted to see that fucker again, except maybe in hell.

“After everything you told us, we couldn’t just sit back,” Maddox spoke through his teeth, clearly hating the subject matter of the conversation. Ditto, buddy. “That fucker doesn’t deserve to breathe with what he did to you.”

“I agree,” Sylvester said, for once on his brother’s side, which left me on the shocked and stupefied side.

I mean, they’d cared that much about me, even back then? They’d cared enough to get my brother here, to… to what? To kill him for me? The thought was tempting and sweet, don’t get me wrong, but a part of me knew that unless I was there to see it happen, it wouldn’t be good enough.

“When we found him, we told him to book a room at the Grand Hotel, and that we’d find him. The manager was supposed to contact me once he arrived, but… with everything that happened…” He shook his blonde head. “I can’t believe he had to get here now.”

Maddox scoffed. “Yeah, why the fuck couldn’t he get here a week earlier? Then at least we could’ve taken care of him before everything went to shit.”

“While it’s,” I paused, trying to think of the right word, “sweet that you’d lure my brother to town to kill him for me, I think it’s something I have to do myself.” My words sunk in, and neither brother tried to argue with me, which was good.

They weren’t heroes. Heroes didn’t want to kill anyone who’d hurt their girl. The bad guys did. It was quite fortunate I was just as bad, if not worse, than they were. No, my brother would meet his end by my hands, not theirs—although I wouldn’t object to them watching.

I stopped myself from saying they should’ve told me about their plot earlier. If they had spilled the beans before, odds were I would’ve gotten pissed off, or lost my mind just as I had for a few hours after being with Aiden.

Speaking of which… Sylvester asked what I’d been waiting for him to ask: “You saw him?”

I nodded. “Oh, I did more than that. I saw him, I spoke with him, I know what room he’s staying in.” When I said that, anger flashed in their eyes, righteous, ungodly fury. “He didn’t try anything, but… he did say he wasn’t going to leave unless I went with him. He thinks I’ll go like a good girl and everything will go back to the way things were before.”

Hah. What a laugh that was worth. Life could never go back to the way things were. I wouldn’t let it. I wouldn’t let him touch me again. I might’ve been too panicked to act much when I was with him before, but I’d be damned if I was in the same room as him again without slitting his throat and watching him bleed out on the floor.

“That motherfucker,” Maddox hissed, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

Sylvester scowled, the guilt completely gone. “Does he not care that you killed your parents?”

I shook my head once and said, “No. He said he handled everything.” A bitter chuckle escaped me. “I should’ve known he never would have me committed. If I was in a mental institution, he wouldn’t have access to me. He wouldn’t be able to get to me whenever he wants. He wants me to go home with him, and everything will be just like it was before, minus mommy and daddy.” I sounded cold, and that’s because I was. Ice had settled in my veins the moment we’d started to discuss my not-so-lovely brother.

“Fuck that,” Maddox growled out, and Sylvester nodded furiously.

Staring between them, a lump formed in my throat. “But what can we do? We’re stuck here, and when we leave, we’ll go back to the city to try to take it back.” I couldn’t say what we were all thinking, that we might just fail, that we didn’t have the numbers necessary to take the city back.

We might not make it. We might die.

And if we died, that would leave my brother still breathing, and that just felt wrong.

Sylvester rubbed his cheek and his chin, mulling it over. “It isn’t like much planning is being done right now with those two here.” Lincoln and the doctor. “Maybe we could go, finish things with him, come back and then plan our retaliation against the DeLucas.”

“You mean go back to the city to kill him and then come back here like it was just an errand or something?” Maddox questioned, his dark eyes glinting in the sun. “I like it. I say we go now—”

“No,” Sylvester said. “Nightfall. We can’t just waltz back into the city in broad daylight. It needs to be after dark, and we’re only making one stop.” Those pretty blue eyes found mine, holding my stare and catching my breath all at once. It was a look that told me, wordlessly, he would do anything for me, and honestly, I couldn’t ask for more.

“The Grand Hotel it is,” I spoke with a grin, my heart beating faster now.

Oh, dear brother. I’m coming for you, and when I do, you’ll wish you never came around.

Chapter Seven – Maddox

Sylvester was off talking to our father on the porch. The door to the cabin was shut, so I couldn’t tell exactly how it was going, but I could see our father furiously shaking his head. He didn’t want us to go back for such a silly thing, I bet, but I didn’t think it was silly, and neither did Sylvester. And Lola, well… we all knew what Lola thought about her dear brother.

The fucktard.

Lola had gone to speak with Viper. Doc was nearly done stitching Mike up; it was just a waiting game to see when he’d come back to us. If.

Regardless of when Mike woke up, he’d be useless in taking back the city. Too injured, too full of pain. He’d have to stay here, even if he woke up right this instant. He’d hate it, of course, but we couldn’t take him with us. He’d be our weakest link, and a mini-army like us was only as strong as its weakest.

I moved my eyes to the man in the kitchen. He’d stopped eating a while ago, but he must still want to eat, because he kept looking through the cabinets in the kitchen as if new food would magically appear.

He was impressive, I’d give him that. There was a careful, meticulous way about him, strong and silent, like he was always ready to go on the offensive, to attack, to kill. He was half man and half beast, unlike anyone I’d ever met, I think. Not exactly like us, but not too different, either. He didn’t say much, this Lincoln, and when he did, he was usually rude as fuck.

I liked him.

I liked the guy, and I wished I could see him in action. I bet his kills were messy.

Because he was a killer. He had to be. When you yourself were an animal, you tended to recognize the signs in other people, and I recognized them in Lincoln. My father had never really spoken of what happened between our families in the past, but I knew, when you were as powerful as us—and apparently them—loyalty ran deep. So did favors. What was between the Scotts and the Lucianos was not like the frightened loyalty we had from the city. It was unspoken, and it was unbreakable.

I found myself gravitating toward him, curious enough to know more. He was a man in his thirties, rippled with muscle, wearing all black. He would fit into our family just fine; I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d fit into his.

Probably not. Just like my father, I bet his family was all about the logic and the thinking and blah, blah, blah. They probably didn’t like animals and brutes like me.

Lincoln glanced at me, his eyes dark, possibly even darker than mine. His hair was also a pitch-black color, though unlike mine, half his head wasn’t shaved. His hair was short, a bit unkempt at the top, like he didn’t give a shit what he looked like. Dark stubble on his face, he gave off the impression he really didn’t care.

Lola clearly liked it, with how she’d acted around him, ogling him and not even trying to hide it. I bet if we told her it was alright, she’d throw herself at him like a sex-crazed, hormone-ridden teenager.

Okay, I liked him a little less after that thought.

“What the fuck are you staring at?” Lincoln broke the silence of the kitchen, those dark eyes squinted at me.

Maybe I was just on edge with everything going on, but I felt the urge to get into a fight. To spill some blood. Surely a man like Lincoln could understand that. “I don’t know,” I said, moving to grip the counter. We stood with five feet between us, both of us posturing.

“Stop it.” His muttered words were spoken as he turned his back to me, resuming his search for more food in the cabinets. It wasn’t like this place was well-stocked beforehand. It wasn’t as if we were expecting to come here, otherwise the refrigerator and cabinets would’ve been full with stuff that wasn’t meant for a nuclear apocalypse.

I thought about saying I do what I want, but figured that might come out sounding childish, even if it was true. So instead, I said, “What do you do, when you’re not making house calls like this?” I doubted this was a daily occurrence; families like ours tended to stick to their own unless they absolutely had to do otherwise.

Plus, with Lincoln, I couldn’t imagine him being so controlled all the time. He had to let loose, somehow.

With his back to me, he simply said, “I kill people.”

Now that was something that interested me immediately. “Oh, yeah? How?” We had our own hitmen, our own enforcers—that’s what Roman and Carter did, when Carter wasn’t busy playing as Lola’s talent manager or whatever. They were our go-to guys for the silent kills.

Now, Lola? Her talents weren’t good in the dark. No, she made much more of an impression when you knew she was coming.

Lincoln turned to face me, leaving the cabinet wide-open behind him. His black eyes were narrowed. “A lot of ways. Use your imagination.”

“I’m no stranger to killing.”

He waited a moment before muttering, “I bet.” I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. He was totally standoffish, acting like speaking to me was the worst thing he’d had to do since he was fucking born or something.

I folded my arms across my chest. “How many?” Didn’t know why I was so curious about him; I just was. I was and I couldn’t help it no matter how much I tried. And, anyway, he was a good distraction while Sylvester spoke with our father about our little plan for tonight.

It was stupid to go back into town just to kill Lola’s brother, but it had to be done. It had to be done now, or else… or else it just might never get done, and if I died while knowing that motherfucker was still out there, I’d be fucking pissed.

He laughed at me. “I don’t keep track. There’s too many.”

Too many? My fury over being laughed at simmered somewhat when he said that, and I couldn’t help but wonder just how many people this man had to kill in order to lose count. I mean, in a shootout, okay, you didn’t exactly keep track of who got whose bullet and all that, but to not have a vague idea, I mean… just who the hell was this guy and what did he do for a living?

Lincoln could clearly tell I wanted to know more, for he went on, “Just know that my family deals in death in more ways than one, and be glad that you guys are on the nice list.” The way he spoke it, it didn’t sound like too many families were, like it was something for us to be proud of.

I was just about to say our families sounded a bit alike—we had a shit list, too—but it was then that Sylvester pushed into the cabin, his blonde brow furrowed and a frown on his face. He came over to me, glancing at Lincoln before saying, “I need to talk to you.”

Lincoln threw his hands up in the air, mock surrender. “Don’t worry, I got the hint. I’ll go check on Doc.” The obscenely tall man left the kitchen, heading toward the hallway on the other side of the living room.

Sylvester watched him go, waiting until we were alone to speak again. Our father, I noticed, remained outside on the porch. I could see him through the kitchen window, leaning on the railing. It looked like he was staring at something small in his hands, a picture. The picture Fang had gotten for him in his office, I’d bet.

A picture of our mother.

Our mother, who just so happened to be a DeLuca, back when the bad blood between us was still bad, but not as much.

“I…” Sylvester paused, reaching a hand to the back of his neck and rubbing it, looking uneasy. More uneasy than he’d looked when we had spoken to Lola about her brother and how we’d searched high and low for the fucker.

Something about his expression didn’t sit right with me. “What’s going on?”

“He doesn’t think we should go back for her brother, but he said he wasn’t going to stop us.”

I stared. “That’s good, right?” Having our father against us was not something either of us wanted. He could not approve of our decisions, but beyond that, they should be ours and ours alone, not ours pending his approval.

“Yes, but… I think there’s something wrong,” Sylvester went on. “He didn’t seem like himself. He… didn’t sound like himself, Maddox.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” If Sylvester wanted me to put two and two together, he’d be waiting a hell of a long time. He was the smart one, not me. I was Mad Maddox, the one who charged in and did things without thinking, the one who would bathe in the blood of his enemies if he could.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I think there’s something he’s not saying. I don’t know what it is.”

“Okay, well, noted, I guess, but everything else is good to go,” I said. “We leave at dusk, get back there, find her brother, and skin his ass.” I’d never skinned anyone before, but I’d heard it was a painful thing. I knew Lola wanted to do it herself, but a part of me couldn’t deny the wanting I felt deep inside, the desire to get a go at the motherfucker.

Aiden Harding deserved all the pain in the world and more for the hell he put her through.

Not saying I was an angel, not saying I treated girls right, but what he did… there’s no excuse. There’s no coming back from raping your sister for years upon years to the point that your parents took her to the doctor and had him sterilize her all so she would stop getting pregnant and having abortions.

No. Hell was too good a place for that fucker.

The drive back was long and quiet. Sylvester refused to turn on the radio, which left the car silent, save for the potholes we hit. I sat in the back with Lola, the space between us too much. She wore a far-off look, and I knew she wasn’t fully there.

She was thinking about her brother, the confrontation that would shortly happen. I wished I could peer into her head and see what she was thinking, if she had a punishment in mind. How slow she planned on making his death, how messy, how bloody.

A guy like that deserved to be torn into a thousand pieces, screaming all the while.

We’d actually taken Lincoln’s car, so we wouldn’t be immediately recognized. Sylvester had lost his suit for once, donning a t-shirt and jeans, practically matching my outfit. At a quick glance, we didn’t look like the Luciano sons.

It didn’t matter. We would get into the Grand Hotel, keep our heads down, and head up to the penthouse suite, where Aiden Harding was staying until further notice. Sylvester and I had our guns, because now was a stupid as fuck time to be without them, but Lola had nothing. Nothing but the metal mask laying on her lap, reflecting the streetlights above.

We’d left the wilderness a while ago, now in the suburbs. Soon enough, we’d be in our home city, and right after that, at the hotel.

I didn’t know what to say to Lola as Sylvester drove. She didn’t quite look all there anyway, so anything I might’ve said would’ve probably just hit dead ears, but still. I wasn’t good at this shit. I didn’t do feelings like this. At least, not before her. Not really.

Sure, I’d had some fun. Mina had been one of my go-to girls for years, and even though she’d always hoped for more, I constantly shut her down. Fucking was all I really wanted, a release that wasn’t killing.

But with Lola… fuck, with her, it was the whole fucking deal. I wanted to help her, wanted to make everything right for her. I wanted to kill every sick fuck that looked at her wrong and, of course, make her brother die screaming. I wanted to alleviate some of the pressure she felt on those shoulders, help her in any way I could.

I’d never wanted that before, and the hatred I’d felt for her for killing Mario had lessened to the point where it was barely there. How the fuck that was possible, I didn’t know. I didn’t get it. If you asked me to explain the reasoning behind my feelings, you wouldn’t learn jack shit, because I had no idea.

It just was. My feelings for her crazy ass had come out of nowhere. Me, Maddox Luciano, in love with a serial killer. Other than the fact she’d killed my baby brother, it was fitting. Who else could handle me beside someone who was off the rocker herself?

Would our father let us keep her? Would he be able to overcome her killing of Mario eventually? I had no clue, and I didn’t want to think about it. I’d never wanted a girl so badly before. I’d never wanted to protect someone else as much as I did her—even though I was well aware the girl didn’t need protecting. She could handle herself.

Maybe my father was acting strange because he’d realized Sylvester and I wouldn’t let her go. Never mind Viper and his connection with her… that wasn’t something I wanted to think about right now, let alone ever.

Me, sharing the girl who’d taken hold of my heart and refused to let it go? It didn’t seem right, but at the same time, it was all we could do. It was almost like this girl needed us in different ways. Sylvester to ground her, me to run wild with her, and Viper to remind her of her humanity.

And all of us to love her.

“There is something I didn’t tell you,” Lola started, turning her gaze away from the passing houses and glancing down at her lap, at the metal mask there. She traced her fingers along the teeth of it, lightly running them over the silver steel.

Sylvester’s eyes were on her in the rearview mirror, and he asked, “What?”

I couldn’t say anything, needing to know what it was. Was it about her brother? Did she lie when she said he didn’t do anything to her? Oh, that fucker… I was going to enjoy hearing him scream, and if any fool got in the way, I’d kill them too. I’d kill the whole fucking city if I had to.

“I was… out of it,” she paused, breathing heavily, “after seeing him. When I left his suite, I… I went to a club. I needed to. I had to.” Explaining her inherent need to kill to the two people who didn’t need an explanation. “It was almost closing time for the club, and I found someone. I don’t remember his name, but I went home with him.”

My heart hammered in my chest for all the wrong reasons. “Did you—” I stopped myself from finishing that question, not knowing if I wanted to know if she’d killed him or fucked him. What would I do if she did? The guy was already dead, so it wasn’t like I could kill him again.

“No,” Lola muttered. “I didn’t sleep with him, and I didn’t kill him.”

Oh, well, that wasn’t too bad then. If she didn’t fuck him or kill him, why was she even telling us this? There was nothing to know, nothing to be sorry for. Everything was one hundred percent fine—

Her next words cut into my thoughts: “I killed his two roommates.”

I couldn’t stop the confused “What?” from leaving my mouth, which earned me a slightly guilty look from Lola. “And the original guy? What did you do with him?” If she didn’t kill him, I already knew, so I didn’t know why I had to ask.

She left him alive, which meant there was a witness, which meant the police might be looking for her. Fuck.

Sylvester put it all together faster than me, saying, “Why didn’t you kill him too?” His knuckles were white on the wheel, and he made a right turn that was a bit sharper than it should’ve been.

Lola’s shoulders went up and down once. “I don’t know. Anytime I went out on the hunt, it was easy for me. I was into it. I knew who was a predator and who wasn’t—” Her implications that Mario was some kind of predator grated on my nerves, but I let it go. “—but this time things were different. I wasn’t… I wasn’t thinking clearly after being with my brother. The guy I went home with wasn’t like my other kills. He was too nice. I couldn’t do it.”

“So you killed his roommates instead?” My question came out a bit harsher than I’d meant it to, but once it was spoken, I could not take it back. “How do you know they weren’t nice, too?” Man, with how she was talking, it was almost like she’d discovered a conscience nestled deep within her.

Almost.

“They were sleeping, so it was easier,” Lola answered me, for once not grinning like a madwoman as she usually did while she talked about killing—her favorite pastime. “I never really felt the urge to kill just to kill before, but my brother brought it out of me, I guess. I… don’t know what else to say.” She bit her bottom lip, as if waiting for us to judge her.

As if we would. As if we fucking could.

We’d both done some pretty horrible things before. Growing up as a Luciano, it came with the territory. If we judged her for what she’d done, we’d have to turn the mirrors on ourselves and do the same. And who the fuck wanted to do that?

I inched closer to her, grabbing one of her hands. Comfort wasn’t my forte; Sylvester was much better at being sweet and all that, but since he was driving, it was up to me. Eh, I’d figure it out.

Those big, blue eyes turned to me, shadows dancing across her face. Such a pretty, gorgeous thing she was, and I knew she hated it. Hated the way she looked, hated her face and how perfect it was, the natural smoothness of her skin, the fullness of her lips, the way her light blonde hair framed her heart-shaped face perfectly.

Perfect. She really was perfect, and I wasn’t the type of guy to just say something like that without meaning it.

“Hey,” I whispered to her, my one hand squeezing hers as my other reached up to her face, running along her jawline. “You did what you had to. There’s no shame in that.” She looked as if she wanted to argue with me, so the fingers on her jaw swept back to her hair, clutching her scalp roughly.

I brought my lips to hers, crashing our mouths together in a way that drowned out whatever she would’ve said. I ate up her moans and breathed in her air. Everything she was, everything she would be; I wanted to be there to see it.

That shut her up, good.

The mask slid off her lap as she reached for me, tugging at my shirt, trying to get me closer to her. Being in a car, it wasn’t the best position, but we made do. We passed the time as Sylvester drove, greedy hands and mouths. No clothes came off, unfortunately, but I think that was because, even with my skillful tongue in her mouth, she couldn’t take her mind off what was to come.

Her brother’s comeuppance. Finally, after all these years, that fucker was going to get what he deserved.

We arrived at the Grand Hotel soon enough, and Sylvester pulled the car up to its doors, turning around to face us. “Go on,” he said. “Wait for me inside. I’ll park the car somewhere discreet.”

Lola and I got out of the back, her slender fingers picking up the mask that had fallen to the floor on her way. Her lips were a bit bruised and puffy from our embrace, and I couldn’t help but smile down at her, a feeling of smug satisfaction in me. This girl was mine. Her craziness was mine. Everything she was was mine, and she was about to face down the devil that haunted her dreams—and I’d be right there with her.

Together, we went inside the Grand Hotel, its glass doors hardly hiding how fancy and uptight the whole place was. It was probably the fanciest place in the city, minus a few of the clubs. Everything was bright and gaudy, and I hated it. I much preferred darker colors.

Night had fallen outside a few hours ago, but the main lobby of the hotel was still busy. People walking out, people walking in, people checking in; there was no shortage of people here, and I corralled us off to the side of it, out of everyone’s way, while we waited for Sylvester to park.

We stood near a stand of brochures, things to do in the city. Lola’s eyes scanned it, but I knew she wasn’t thinking of going to the local aquarium. No, her mind was on Aiden, her fucking brother, and what hard, chaotic vengeance we were about to wreak.

“You okay?” I asked, gazing steadily down at her.

Her breathing was even but labored, and I couldn’t tell if it was because of our making out or due to what was about to happen. Both, probably. “I’m fine,” Lola said, giving me a tiny smile. It was a smile that was very unlike her usual crazy grins, but I’d take it. “I’m just… I can’t believe this is about to happen.”

I could imagine that this was surreal for her. After all these years, finally being able to stand up to her brother and say, no more, never again, and slit his throat. Or something like that. She might be nervous now, but I knew once things got going, she would revel in it.

“I always thought I never wanted to see him again,” she said. “I thought I could force myself to forget him and what he did to me, but… it’s not possible.” Lola held onto her mask, holding it before her stomach, where that big, thick scar sat under her clothes, a permanent reminder of her past and its horrors.

God, if her parents weren’t already dead, I would’ve had them strung up and tortured, their unrecognizable bodies tossed in the river, to be forgotten about for all eternity.

“What if things change after this?” she asked, a question I wasn’t expecting.

“What do you mean?”

She seemed to think on it. “I guess it doesn’t matter, because after this we’re hitting them hard.” Them, the DeLucas, a name none of us would say while we were in public. “We might not make it.”

“We’re going to make it,” I told her, meaning it. I would do anything and everything in my power to see that we’d all live through this little war.

Lola looked as if she didn’t believe me, and it killed me to know she thought it was a suicide mission, our war with the DeLucas. Maybe it was, but I wouldn’t give up hope, not now, not after finally realizing how good it felt to have someone, to love someone else, to want to be their protector and monster at the same time.

It was a good thing Sylvester chose that moment to walk in, turning his face away from the workers at the front desk and the cameras hanging on the walls. He headed straight for us, his shoulders hunched a bit. “Ready?” he asked.

Lola took a moment, breathing in and out once. She brought her stare to us both, holding our gazes for what felt like forever. She nodded once, saying, “I’m ready. Let’s get this motherfucker.” And then she said nothing else, heading to the elevators.

Sylvester and I were momentarily stunned at her sudden gusto, but we caught up to her in a few seconds, just after she’d hit the up button. All I could think was, that’s my girl.

That’s my beautiful, gorgeous, murderous girl.

Chapter Eight – Lola

The elevator ride seemed to go on forever. Fortunately, Sylvester, Maddox, and I were the only ones on it, so I didn’t bother to hide my anxiety. Was I excited? Fuck yeah, this bitch was about to get what he deserved. Was I nervous all the same? Uh, fuck yeah to that, too.

It was something I never wanted to happen because I never thought I’d be strong enough to face him down. Everything was coming full circle here; he was my last tie to my old life, the life I’d run from, the life I didn’t want. He was the only thing left that was holding me back from being great, from truly letting go, and I planned on showing him just how much he meant to me after all these years. Hint: it wasn’t going to be pretty.

My brother made me what I was today. I should thank him for that. Manners and shit.

Sylvester broke the silence of the elevator, saying, “We never discussed what we’d do if he’s not there. How long we’ll wait for him. The longer we’re here, the more danger we put ourselves in. We need to get in, do what we came here for, and get out.” He looked at me, adding quietly, “I know you want to make his pain last, but with everything else—”

“I get it,” I said, because I did. Now was not the time to spend days making my brother pay for his sins, of which there were many. While I would love to drown myself in my brother’s pain, I knew it wasn’t realistic, not with the state of everything right now.

Beggars couldn’t be choosers and all that, you know. Take what you can get when you get it and be thankful for the opportunity.

A part of me felt like I should be upset with the guys for going behind my back and inviting Aiden here, but the bigger and more bloodthirsty part of me knew better. They were only trying to help, after all, only trying to make sure that fucker got what he deserved, along with a heaping pile of misery.

The elevator doors slid open on the top floor of the hotel, and I was the first to step out, breathing deep, my nerves antsy. I turned toward his door, and then I knocked while Sylvester and Maddox kept themselves away from the peephole on the door.

It might be a fancy place, but it was a hotel all the same, and though it might not be smart to leave a corpse here, it’s what we had to do. The cameras could catch our faces; it didn’t matter. Either we would be back to owning this city after we showed the DeLucas who was boss, or we would already be dead.

Hey, look at that—we. I kept saying we, like I was a Luciano or something. I wasn’t, but it felt right, felt natural to include myself with them. Wherever they went, whatever they did, they’d have me, provided Daddy Luciano didn’t put a bullet into my head while I slept one night.

Sylvester’s words rang in my head as I waited outside the door. What if he wasn’t home? What a pity that would be. We’d wait here for him for a little while, and then… then, I guess, if he never came back, we’d have to turn the car around and go back to the cabin, which would mean my payback would have to wait until after everything else.

If there was an after, I mean. There might not be. I always said I wasn’t made for happy endings, and life might just prove me right. Don’t get me wrong—I’d go down swinging as hard as I could while screaming as loudly as my lungs could handle, but in the end, they still had bigger numbers than we did, and their leader was none other than the Bloody fucking Princess.

I didn’t like the fact that Bianca had her own nickname. I didn’t like it at all.

My hands hung at my sides like limp, useless noodles, and for a split-second, I felt like the me of ten years ago, the me who knew no one cared enough to listen to. If my parents didn’t care what was happening, why would anyone else? Silence was a golden thing, precious to those it benefited. It wasn’t golden or precious to me, though, for look at where it had gotten me.

I was someone the media would rave about. How could a girl who came from money end up a serial killer with next to no remorse? How could such a pretty thing wind up a psychopath? And then they’d learn about my past, somehow. The doctors and nurses I’d tried to tell when I was younger, when I thought I could make it stop, would step out of the shadows and confess their secrets, tell the world how I’d been abused for years and everyone looked the other way.

The world would mourn the girl I could’ve been instead of celebrate the monster I had become.

As my thoughts ran away from me, I heard footsteps behind the door. He was home. Of course he was. I’d bet any money that Aiden hardly ever left this room now that I knew where he was, eternally hopeful that I would run right back into his arms and everything could go back to the way it was before.

What a silly, silly notion. What a fucking stupid thought. If my brother was oblivious to the pain I would bring him today, he doubly deserved what he’d get.

The door flew open, and there stood my brother, Aiden Harding, wearing no shoes, his bare feet poking out of his dark trousers, his button-up grey shirt undone by his clavicle. His blue eyes widened when he saw me, his gaze dropping to the mask I held for only a moment, and I resisted my urge to glance toward Maddox and Sylvester, who stood off to the side, beasts lying in wait.

Aiden’s mouth curled into a smile, and my spine tingled with disgust. “Lola,” he spoke, reaching for me. Before I knew what was happening, he was pulling me into the apartment, slamming me against his chest as he hugged me close, acting very much like a loving, caring brother and not someone who wanted to hurt me.

But that was always his specialty. Monsters like him were sociopaths, the kind of people who knew how to control everyone else around them, someone who knew exactly what to say in order to avoid any repercussions whatsoever. His ugly monster and mine were not on the same level. I might had been born from his darkness, but I had created my own.

“For a while, I thought you wouldn’t come back,” he said, murmuring the words into my hair. “I thought I’d have to wait weeks for you to realize you belong with me.” Belong with me, as if I was his possession.

No. Fuck no. If someone owned me, if someone possessed everything I was, it was the two people in the hall. It was Viper. It was literally anyone else, anyone but him.

“I’m so glad you came,” he was busy saying, finally letting go of me. I stepped deeper into the fancy suite as he went to shut the door. Only, he couldn’t shut the door, because someone’s shoe got in the way. “What—” Aiden couldn’t get out anything else, for the next moment, Maddox stuck his head in, giving him an evil grin.

“Hello there, Aiden Harding,” Maddox growled out his name. “I’ve been waiting to meet you.” He pushed inside, the door flying open so hard it practically came off the hinges. Sylvester was right behind him, and as Maddox postured and intimidated Aiden, Sylvester swung the door shut and locked it… and then he pulled out his gun, which made Aiden gulp.

“What—what’s going on?” Aiden stepped between us, like he thought he had to protect me. Such a sweet, stupid brother he was. Such a horrible, pathetic, worthless and abusive brother. Too little, too late. “Who are you?”

“You know,” Maddox spoke, reaching beneath his black t-shirt and drawing out his own pistol, “I think you should ask her about that.”

Suddenly it clicked in my brother’s head that these two had not randomly appeared in the hallway; they’d come here with me. Aiden turned his wide stare to me, begging for answers without saying a single word.

Oh, it was too much. Far too much. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.

“They’re with me,” I told him, watching him take a step away from me, finally starting to get it. I wished I could feel how fast his heart was beating, could peel back his skin and crack through his ribcage just to see it.

Hmm. Would I have to go through the lungs too? Whatever. You know what I meant.

“What’s wrong?” I started, grinning ear to ear as I walked closer to my men, my deadly beasts who would be more than happy to end this for me, if I wanted them to. But I didn’t. This was my fight, he was my brother, and I would be the one to end him. And then, once he was gone, there would be no more Hardings ever again. No passing down these fucking awful genetics. “Cat got your tongue, Aiden?” I chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll cut it out soon enough.”

Aiden breathed hard, unable to figure out who he should be staring at the most. Hint: it was me. I was the one in charge here, but apparently the fucker couldn’t figure that out. Finally, he spoke, “What is this? Is this some kind of shakedown? Lola, if you need money—”

I laughed. Money? That’s what he thought this was all about? Oh, how the world had failed him. How it had failed us both. The world had let its demons eat me up while it kept the wool pulled over my brother’s eyes. He had no idea why we were here, why I was with Maddox and Sylvester.

But he was about to find out.

“If you think this is about money,” I spat out, “then you are blinder than I thought, baby brother.” My teeth ground as I spoke those last two words; he hadn’t been my baby brother in a long, long time.

The chosen one. The heir of the Harding family. The good child. The one who could never do wrong in my parents’ eyes, and the one—ironically—who could do nothing but wrong. A liar, a deceiver, an ugly, hideous human being who wasn’t worth any of this. Did that matter, though? No, I was still going to enjoy tearing this motherfucker apart.

“This isn’t about money,” I said, watching as he backed up into the lounge, the living room area even though this suite had multiple similar rooms, I’d bet. He backed up into the armrest of the couch, stumbling backward, and I laughed. “This isn’t me realizing how badly I’ve missed home and you. No, Aiden, this—” I gestured to the room, to us, to everything here. “—is the day you thought would never come.”

Now that a couch stood between us, he could stand a little straighter. “Lola,” he whispered, his voice strained, his head cocking slightly.

I mimicked him, turning my head just so and whispering a mocking, “Aiden, let me be frank. I haven’t missed you. In fact, I’ve tried my hardest not to think of you.” As I spoke, as I held Aiden’s attention rapt, Maddox inched around the other side of the couch, moving slowly, noiselessly. “I’ve spent these last few years on my own, living and breathing and doing everything I couldn’t while in that house with you.”

Maddox crept soundlessly behind him, and before Aiden realized it, he had a gun pointed to the back of his head, and Maddox undid the safety, its sound echoing in the suite.

“I killed,” I went on, “and I don’t just mean Mom and Dad. I mean others. You’ve heard about the Night Slayer, right? Congrats, you’re looking at her… and you’re about to be her next victim.” Taking a step forward, I asked, “Do you know why?”

Aiden had gone pale, the weakling. He didn’t try moving, didn’t try to overpower Maddox because he knew he’d get a bullet in the brain instantly if he did. His jaw was clamped firmly shut, and it was obvious he wouldn’t say anything.

“The Night Slayer hunts those who hurt the innocent, the ones who prey on the weak and make a joke of it,” I spoke, my voice dripping hatred and venom, two things my brother deserved. “She kills the men who don’t deserve to stain this world with their presence. You should already know this by now, though, because you’re the one who made her. You created the Night Slayer and her lust for vengeance.” Lifting both arms up, I smiled. “And, finally, after all these years, she’s about to have it.”

“Lola, please, whatever this is, you don’t have to do this.” He dared to shake his head once, even with the gun against the back of his head. I knew Maddox wouldn’t shoot him unless I told him to, but no, I had something else in store for my dear brother.

It was kind of funny, really, how Aiden thought he could talk me down, how he assumed I could be dissuaded from this. What a fool. He’d set me upon this path years ago, and now that he was seeing his own creation, he didn’t like it. He wanted to turn away. I bet he would give anything to undo what he’d done, if only so he could come out of this night alive.

But he wouldn’t. My brother would die tonight, and I would remember every single detail in vivid glory until I drew my last breath—whether that was soon or not. It didn’t matter. I would die happy knowing this fucker would never hurt anyone else.

“See, that’s where you’re very wrong,” I told him, setting my hands on my hips and cocking an attitude. “I have to do this, actually, because you’re the worst of the worst. I have to do this now, because I couldn’t do it then. You don’t deserve to live to see another sunrise, brother.”

There were monsters in this world. There were bloodthirsty beasts who got off on other’s pain. There were psychopaths and sociopaths… and then there were devils in disguise, the ones with absolutely no redeeming qualities whatsoever, the kind of beings who survived only because they devoured the souls of others.

I’d done wrong in my life, sure. I’d killed innocents just recently, in fact, but I never did what Aiden did. Never even thought about it. To take away someone’s voice was beyond despicable, and he was about to learn the error of his ways.

“Knock him out,” I ordered Maddox, and before my brother had the chance to argue, Maddox flipped the weapon in his hand around and smacked the back of Aiden’s head with the butt of it. My brother’s tall form crumpled to the floor in a heap as Sylvester moved to stand beside me, lowering his gun when he was sure he was unconscious.

“What are we doing with him?” Sylvester asked me.

“Get him into the bedroom,” I said. “Find something to tie him down with.”

As Sylvester and Maddox got to work, I went to the bathroom, fixing my hair. The last thing my brother would see before he died was me, and I wanted him to realize just how badly he’d fucked up all those years growing up. I wanted him to be powerless beneath me for once, his hands held back and his ankles tied down. I wanted to hear him scream my name—no more hushed whispers in the dark, no more secrets and no more lies.

Once I approved of my reflection, once I looked like a beautiful, striking angel of death, my gaze fell to my shirt, and I wondered if I should take off my clothes or put on something else, but that would either mean my brother would get an eyeful of my body before dying or he’d get the satisfaction of seeing me in his own clothes. Neither of which sounded appealing to me, so I’d just do it in these clothes.

Hell, I’d walk out of this hotel covered in blood, and I dared anyone to stop me.

I closed my eyes for a bit, focusing on my breathing, trying to calm myself. I’d waited for this day, I’d dreamed of it, but I never imagined it would actually happen. Me, about to kill my brother. Everything in my life really had come full circle; everything that happened after this was just gravy.

I was as ready to kill that motherfucker as I’d ever be, so I pushed out of the bathroom, clutching my mask like a lifeline, finding Sylvester and Maddox in the bedroom. The suite had more than one, but the guys had found the nicest, biggest one and laid my brother on top of the king-sized bed. His arms were held up, tied together and then to the bedframe above his head, while his pant legs had been yanked up and his ankles spread and tied down as well. Looked like they used a hodgepodge of long-sleeved shirts to do it, along with one of the bedsheets.

And, if he somehow got loose, it wasn’t like I’d be alone. Sylvester and Maddox would be right there, watching.

“How are you going to do it?” Sylvester asked, eyeing me up as I studied my brother’s still form. His gun was visible in the waistband of his pants, but once Aiden was awake, I knew it would come out again. Maddox’s was much the same, I noticed, as he stood on the other side of the bedroom, arms folded across his chest, the tattoos on his arms rippling with anger.

Both of these men would gladly tear into my brother, eat his heart and rip his head off, but he was my devil to purify, my cross to bear. He would become another victim of the Night Slayer, the one who deserved her bloody vengeance the most.

I said nothing as I set my mask on top of a dresser and slipped off my boots. With my own feet bare, I sauntered out of the room, down the hall, emerging in the wide-open space that was the living area and kitchen. Most hotel rooms didn’t come with a full-sized kitchen, complete with a refrigerator and stove, but most hotel rooms also didn’t come with floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the entire city, either. This was fancy-pants central, and if I knew my brother, he had it booked indefinitely, not knowing when I’d come to him.

What a fool. What a pathetic, disgusting fool he was. I hated him, I did. I hated him more than I hated myself, and that was saying something.

I retrieved my favorite instrument of chaos from the kitchen and tiptoed back. The Night Slayer’s choice of weapon was mostly because it was something everyone had in their house or apartment. You couldn’t get very far without your own set of knives, even if you just had three of them.

Luckily, one was all I needed.

I mean, who knew? Maybe after Aiden was dead, I’d magically revert back to the girl I used to be, to the girl I should’ve been. Maybe all of my craziness and uncontrollable urges would vanish just like that.

Or maybe not. Because, you know, this wasn’t a fairytale, and if it was, I think we all got lost somewhere. I didn’t remember fairytales being this bloody—and if they were, I don’t think I was watching the right fairytales when I was younger. Who needed Disney when blood told such better stories?

I came upon Sylvester and Maddox, who now stood near each other. They saw the knife in my hand, and I gave them a smile, sauntering over to them, giving them each a soft kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for this,” I said, pulling away from them. “This means… a lot.” It really did; in fact, it meant so much more than I could ever explain.

Words didn’t often fail me. Talking was one thing I was very good at, even if no one listened. The silent Lola who kept her mouth shut had died years ago, so saying what these two had done for me made me at a loss for words meant a lot.

“You’re welcome,” Sylvester said, meaning it, because of course he did.

Maddox, on the other hand, spoke gruffly, “Yeah, yeah. Now, go wake his ass up and make him bleed.”

I grinned. That I could definitely do.

I went to the dresser, where my mask sat, its shiny steel shimmering in the dim light of the suite. Meeting the man who’d made this for me, I knew it was not a sweet gift meant to flutter my heart. It was a gift of violence and fear, and I’d missed wearing it.

I slipped it on, the metal fitting the lower half of my face like it was molded specifically for me and me alone. My breath was hot on my face, and I grabbed the knife, fingers flexing around the handle as I glanced at my two men. Whatever they thought of me, I would make them proud tonight. Their angel would drink the blood of her most hated enemy on this night.

Crawling onto the bed, the mattress hardly moved with my added weight. Aiden was still passed out, his eyelids shut, his chest rising and falling with smooth, even breaths. I stopped when I sat beside him, staring at him. Much like me, he wore the face of an angel: handsome and pretty, the kind of face anyone would love to lose themselves in. Truth was, pretty faces tended to hide the ugliest of souls, and my brother’s soul was the blackest, most hideous thing there ever was.

A smile crept along my face beneath the mask, and I heaved myself over him, straddling his midsection. I set the knife down, getting to work on the buttons on his shirt as his eyes fought to open. One by one, I undid the buttons, drawing the fabric open as much as I could, given his position with his arms tied over his head.

His chest was lean and hairless, and I drew my hands down it when I saw his eyelids finally lift and those cerulean orbs focus on me. Even though he couldn’t see me smiling behind the mask, I couldn’t wipe it off my face.

“Hello, brother,” I purred out, touching him all over his chest, his stomach, his abdomen. Not a way a sister should touch her brother, but we were beyond that, now. “Tell me, do you like my mask?” My voice was muffled behind it, sounding more ominous, more threatening.

Aiden couldn’t take his eyes off me, even as he struggled. It didn’t take him long to realize he was tied to the bed, and that Maddox and Sylvester stood nearby, guns drawn and ready should something go wrong. “What… what is this?”

Because he did not answer, I grabbed his face with my hand, nails digging into his cheeks as I repeated, “Do you like my mask?” My blonde hair draped down over his head, my other hand still resting on his chest. I leaned over him, my heart pounding.

This was it. This was finally it. After all this time, after all these years, my dear brother was about to meet his maker. Me.

To say I was excited would be the year’s biggest understatement. I was absolutely thrilled to have him helpless beneath me, the tables turned. The anticipation filled my veins and made my blood run faster, my heart pump quicker. Tonight, I would remedy the mistake I’d make all those years ago when I’d left, thereby leaving him alive. Tonight, I would fix my worst mistake and finally rid the world of the devil that haunted my nightmares.

I was the true nightmare now. I was sick and twisted, taking pleasure in other’s pain, craving the screams and the dilation of their pupils. Call me an angel of death, because that’s what I was, and that’s what I would be until the day death took me in its cold, sweet embrace.

My brother realized I would not let go of his face until he gave me an answer, my nails digging into his flesh so hard I broke through the skin, so he muttered, “Yes, I like your mask.” Such a bitter answer, so unlike his usual attitude, but I supposed that was because he knew he wasn’t going to get out of this one alive.

Poor fool. He thought he’d come here, sweep me off my feet, and take me back home, that we’d continue on with our lives as if I’d never murdered our parents. Instead, he would meet his true death here, by my hand, and I hoped the image of me in this mask haunted him in hell.

When he finally answered me, I released my hold on his face, lifting my head away from his, no longer shielding him from the room with my halo of yellow hair. My hand dropped to his collarbone, and I traced the lines of his muscles, grinning behind the mask. I couldn’t wipe that smile off my face if I tried to.

And, hint, I wasn’t trying to, nor would I.

“Do you know how long I’ve dreamed of this, Aiden?” My voice came out sultry, so unlike the bitter tone he’d taken up. Me? I couldn’t be happier, and I let it show, my glee pure and unrestrained.

His blue eyes were on me, though they did throw a quick glance in Maddox and Sylvester’s direction. “No,” he muttered, frowning as he once again tried to free his arms. He couldn’t. My guys were a master of knots, apparently.

Hmm. Maybe I’d let them tie me up next to my brother’s corpse when it was all said and done and fuck my brains out. That sure sounded like fun, and my thighs clenched as I touched my brother’s smooth chest.

He must wax or something, because no man’s torso was this hair-free naturally. It was like touching a baby’s ass—not that I ever touched a baby’s ass before. It’s just something people said, a weird ass saying, but here it totally fit.

“So long,” I told him. “I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long, brother. Years. Even before killing Mom and Dad, I dreamed of gutting you. Stringing you up by your intestines and hanging you with them. I dreamed of your screams, of cutting off those hands and sewing that mouth shut.”

A shiver ran down my spine with the imagery, and I wished we had more time. I wished I could make a whole day of this, a week, a month, make his misery last—but I couldn’t, so I had to make do.

“Luckily for you,” I went on, taking my hands off him and reaching for the knife, “we don’t have time for all of that, so it’s going to be a lot quicker for you than I’d like.” I watched as his blue gaze fell to the shiny steel of the kitchen knife, its serrated edge glinting.

“Please, Lola, don’t do this,” Aiden started to beg, which was kind of funny. I never imagined him begging in any of the scenarios, but I guess he would, huh? The sap didn’t want to die. Unlike me, he didn’t have a death wish. Too bad. “You don’t have to do this. I’ll—I’ll leave. I’ll never contact you again. You can stay here with them if that’s what you want—” He stopped the moment I brought the knife’s tip to the underside of his chin, and he swallowed.

“You’re an idiot,” I whispered, “to think that I would ever try to contact you. I never wanted you to come here.” With the knife, I pointed toward Sylvester and Maddox. “They did. They found you, because I told them what you did to me for all those years.”

He blinked, and his expression changed just slightly; he was angry with me for sharing our little secret.

“What?” I cooed, moving the knife to his chest and dancing the steel along his pectorals, circling his nipples. They were two hardened points, but probably not because he was turned on. Wonder what would happen if I cut them off… “It’s strange, I know. Someone actually believed me. I guess what they say is true: there’s a first time for everything.”

All my life, all those doctors and nurses who shrugged me off, who either didn’t care or didn’t believe me or got a paycheck in the form of a bribe from my parents. All those people I’d tried to speak up to, only to never have any of them save me. Maybe, if they would’ve done something, I wouldn’t be as fucked up as I was now. Maybe I wouldn’t be the Night Slayer.

But that was neither here nor there, because it didn’t matter what happened years ago. Right here and now was all that mattered to me, putting an end to my past, cutting the last loose string in the form of my brother.

Oh, it was going to be biblical.

“They believed me,” I carried on, taking great pleasure in the way his body tensed under mine as I drew the knife down to his stomach. “They believed me, and now you’re here. I couldn’t have asked for more, really. I never thought I’d be able to face you down after what you did to me. For so long I thought I was only pretending to be strong, but now?” I laughed. “Now that you’re here with me, brother, I know the truth.” Leaning down to his face once more, I whispered out, “Do you know what the truth is?”

Aiden looked extremely pale. “What?” The word was barely audible, and I giggled some more. My brother being here brought the glee into the situation, really.

My free hand went to his face, and I drew it down along his cheek, smearing the small bits of blood that had appeared where I’d dug my nails in earlier. A gentle caress, a lie about what was to come. “I’m not weak,” I told him. “I’m the fucking strongest gal around, and I’m about to prove it.” Smiling behind the mask, I asked, “Any last words, dear brother? Anything for posterity? Not that the Hardings will have any future generations after us. Once you’re dead, I’m it, and we all know how I can’t pop out babies like a Pez dispenser anymore.”

My brother said nothing, only glared at me, which was a disappointment, frankly. Don’t ask me why, but I’d been expecting more. Oh, well. Guess it was time to get to it.

“Now,” I spoke, placing the knife’s tip at the base of my brother’s throat, just above his collarbone, “I’m going to carve you up, so feel free to scream your lungs out—while you’re still alive, I mean.” Once he was dead he couldn’t exactly fill the air with his screams, but by then I’d already have a load of them bottled up in my memory to save for later.

You know, those nights when I couldn’t sleep; after tonight, I could close my eyes and picture this moment. Years down the road, I would still remember every detail of tonight like it was just yesterday.

Assuming I was still alive, of course. Assuming we took back this city. But that was getting ahead of myself, I think.

I pushed down on the knife, not too hard, not enough to stab him in the throat—I wanted him alive for at least the start of this. No slit throats tonight. I’d meant what I’d said when I said I was going to carve him up. This entire room would become a blood splatter analyst’s wet dream. Every inch of this room would be painted with his blood, and never before would the world have seen something more beautiful.

Because blood was. It was beautiful and obscene at the same time. Spilling it, drawing it out, watching it ooze… I just couldn’t get enough.

Blood pooled beneath the tip of the knife, and Aiden winced, though he didn’t cry out. Kudos to him, but it was just the first prick of his skin, the first wound of many. A teeny, tiny thing compared to what would come next. Our starting point, if you will.

I drew the knife away from him, taking my free hand and dipping my fingers into his blood. With his blood, I drew a line straight down his chest, all the way to his belly button. I had to go back for more blood a few times, but I made it work. Then I drew another line parallel to the first, creating a sort of cross on his chest, just below his pectoral muscles.

Well aware that both Sylvester and Maddox were watching me, I knew they wouldn’t want me to hold back, so I wouldn’t. I planned on going full-out crazy here.

And then, once the bloodied cross was made, I realized my stupid fucker of a brother had shut his eyes. Whether it was in acceptance or fear, I didn’t rightly care. That motherfucker was going to keep his eyes open for this. He was going to watch, even if it was through a veil of blood.

I slid off his chest, scooting up to his face. “Now, Aiden, I realize this must be terrifying for you, but you’ve got to understand how great it feels for me,” I told him. “I’m gonna need you to watch what I do to you, okay?” My overly nice voice snapped the moment I reached for the nearest eyelid, pinching it and pulling it as far away from his eye as I could.

Didn’t want to damage the eye, you know, since I wanted him to witness it all.

I brought the knife to his eyelid, and he started squirming, the dumb motherfucker. I didn’t lose grip on that eyelid, but I did say, “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you. I can’t imagine a knife to the eye feels that good, so be thankful I’m leaving your eyes intact.” Then again, at this point, he had nothing to lose by staying still, so would he really listen to me?

Ah, well. It didn’t matter, because right after I said that, I sliced that eyelid off. A bit of blood, but not too much. Aiden cried out, screamed a little bit, and I let out a laugh as I wiggled his eyelid in the air. Such a small thing, it was kind of funny.

Or maybe I was just nuts.

I threw it behind me, and I imagined it landing on the floor near Sylvester and Maddox’s feet, and then I went in and did the other one. Let me just say, hearing my brother whimper and beg me to stop what I was doing—it was nice. It was something I could get used to. The tables had been totally flipped, that’s for sure, because in the beginning, I used to whisper the same things to him in the dark, when he would find his way into my bed at night.

His face had bleeding eyes now, a grotesque thing. With just his eyelids gone, he looked like a monster, and it was literally the funniest thing I’d ever seen. I’d never seen anyone without eyelids before, and with blood leaking onto my brother’s face, he looked like a scary clown, like he was wearing a mask or something. It was quite entertaining.

After tossing his second eyelid away, I said, “There. Now you won’t go closing those eyes again, huh?” A moment before I added, “That’s all I wanted, you know, for you to keep your eyes open. And for you to stop raping me, but I guess we don’t always get what we want. That’s life, as everyone says.”

I lifted the knife to my face. Its serrated edge had a bit of blood on it, but not too much. After what I would do next, the steel would be covered.

Still, because I had my brother’s full attention now, I lowered my mask and brought the knife to my mouth. My tongue flicked out, and I dragged it along the knife, licking up his blood. All metallic and warm, his very life essence.

Tasted like shit, but I think he got the picture. The girl with the metal mask and knife in her hands wasn’t sane at all. She liked spilling blood, and she wasn’t afraid of tasting it.

After putting my mask back on, I set the knife in the center of the blood cross I’d drawn. Usually, when doctors marked you up before surgery, they used dotted lines, I think. But I wasn’t a doctor, and this wasn’t surgery in the form of me diving in to fix something. No, I was just going to take it all out, because my brother was gutless.

Gutless. Heartless. Spineless.

I’d leave him the way nature intended, all right. I would make this room his tomb, and when I was finished with him, he would be completely unrecognizable. He wouldn’t even look human.

My nerves were on fire when I pressed down with the knife, digging deeper than I ever had. The serrated steel pierced his flesh and dug down, past his muscle. Aiden let out a loud scream, but I was in my own world as I tugged the knife down along the line I’d marked. From just below his chest to his belly button, probably an inch or so deep.

Ooh, it had to hurt, and that fact brought me a type of pleasure even the world’s best orgasm couldn’t. There were just some things better than sex out there, and torturing and killing your brother who’d fucked you up for years was one of them.

Fresh blood appeared on the line, but I kept going, cutting him from side to side now, just as deep. I felt the knife graze his ribs, the hard obstruction of bone stopping me from going deeper in that direction.

For now.

The last line I cut was the one from his collarbone to the middle of the cross. By that time, my brother might’ve been in shock, or his adrenaline was pumping. Either way, he didn’t cry out too much.

Hell, or maybe he was just numb because his entire torso was on fire with pain. Who could say?

I chuckled to myself, laying my flat palm against the center of the cross, where all the cut lines intersected. “I’ve never skinned an animal before, but how hard could it be?” Surely it couldn’t be too hard. I mean, all you had to do was peel the skin back, right? Cut it when necessary.

Was I going too far? Was this too much?

You know what? I didn’t fucking care. I deserved this, as did he. He would drown in his pain and blood and regret while I got off on making his last living moments complete hell.

I took one corner of skin, starting to peel it back. The sound it made in the air was gooey and slick, and then I got to work, using the knife to saw through whatever was keeping his skin attached. I wasn’t a doctor, so I might’ve gone a bit too deep in my initial cut, but hey, it was my first time. Give me a break.

Aiden mumbled something, but whatever it was, it was incoherent and I wasn’t really listening to him. His face was bloody and hideous, and it looked like his eyes were starting to roll back into his skull, like he was going to pass out from me skinning his stomach or something. Come on. Man the fuck up.

Whatever. I was too enthralled with what he looked like underneath to pay much attention to him and what he was doing. All I knew was he was still breathing, which meant he was still alive. He wouldn’t be for long, I had the feeling.

What did he look like underneath? It was all red and tendon-y, some parts pinker than others. Bloody and beautiful, that’s for sure. Inch by inch I worked on him, peeling one quarter of the cross back before doing another. Soon I had half of it done, and soon after that, the entire thing. Yes, the skin on his entire torso was peeled back.

The sight was beautiful to me, but the damned skin folds kept slipping, like they didn’t want to stay open. I eventually had to tell Sylvester and Maddox to find something to weigh them down, because I wanted to get to work on his guts. Aiden had passed out a while ago, which was unfortunate, but it happened, especially when you were being skinned alive after having your eyelids cut off.

Yeah. Yeah, his last memories of life sure weren’t good ones. Let me pause to pat myself on the back for a few seconds.

They came back with more knives from the kitchen, and I grinned at them behind my mask. “Thank you,” I purred out, taking them. I used the new knives to pin the peeled flesh in place, piercing the skin and the bed in order to do so. But hey, it worked.

My brother was still alive, but barely. I knew once I continued, he wouldn’t last much longer. Besides the pain, he’d lost quite a lot of blood already. The bed was doused in red, and we’d barely begun. A beautiful sight.

Me? I had some blood on me, on my mask, but that came with the territory of killing someone in such a gruesome, horrific way.

I’d cut my mother’s throat. I’d stabbed my father dozens of times. Now I would literally peel my brother apart and tear out his insides and make them outsides instead.

I started with his guts, because they were the easiest to get to. A bit more cutting, past the musculature and the tendons, and I was there, inside his gut, able to see it all wiggling around, gooey and nasty. Holding the knife to the side, I plunged my hand down, right into his intestines. It felt… it felt like wet, slimy, warm sausages.

A laugh escaped me, and I spoke, “Now I’m inside you.” A quick glance up to his face, and I saw how pale he was, how he wasn’t moving.

Dead. My dear brother was dead. I realized it with a hand in his gut, and for a moment, I froze. He was gone, finally, after all these years. Aiden Harding would never walk the streets again, never hurt anyone else.

Of course, I had no idea if he’d ever hurt anyone other than me, but it didn’t matter. The number of victims didn’t matter when it came to abuse. It was what it was, and what it was was horrible. No one should have to go through what I did, no girl should have to grow up in fear of her own family, the family who was supposed to love and protect her and teach her how to protect herself from the world.

My parents had failed. Aiden had failed. Everyone had failed me, and now look at where I was: wrist-deep into my brother’s gut, about to decorate the room with his organs.

My fingers curled around some of the intestines, and I started to pull them out. Had to drop my knife and go at it with two hands since intestines were literally just a mess of human sausage links—and there were a lot of them. Who knew the body hid so much? I mean, I guess doctors did, but still, it was shocking to me just how much of his gut was taken up by his intestines.

I had to set the heapings of intestines off to the side on the bed and pick up my knife to cut it from whatever it led to in the body, and then I carried on. His spleen, his kidneys, his liver and his stomach. They each had their own shapes and colors, and though I wasn’t sure which was which, I could not shake the glee inside of me as I took each one out.

My hands were coated in red goo, my clothes doused in blood. I looked a mess, I knew, but my audience couldn’t stop staring at me. I brought one of my hands to my mask, smearing some of Aiden’s blood onto its teeth, giggling.

Oh, this night was spectacular. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

I thought about painting the room with his organs, but I knew there were still a few more tucked away beneath his ribcage up top. His lungs. His heart. You know, the most important organ of them all.

Getting to it was a little rough. I didn’t have the strength or the right tool to cut through his ribcage, so I went up from beneath it, feeling around in there. Once I felt something that fit snugly in the palm of my hand, I curled my fingers around it and yanked it out.

My own heart beat a bit faster as I lifted it up, and I stared at my brother’s heart, a smile wide on my face. Such a small thing to be what kept us all alive. I had one, Sylvester and Maddox each had one. The heart was so small compared to the rest of the body, and yet it was responsible for so much. It was amazing when you thought about it.

As I stared at the bloodied organ in my hand, I pictured my brother. His face, the words he’d whisper into my ear during the nights he crept into my bed. How his hands would feel as they roamed across me, stifling me, promising me everything would be fine, that he loved me.

A lie. It was all a lie.

My fingers clenched together, digging into the soft tissue of the heart, nails piercing the fleshy thing. I held onto it with a fist now, my hand trembling. Beneath my mask, I bared my teeth, wishing he was still alive so I could feed it to him, make Aiden eat his own heart. I would never be right, never be normal and sane, all because of him.

“Look who’s laughing now,” I spoke, my voice nothing but a bare whisper. I spoke it to Aiden even though he was dead, even though he couldn’t hear me. I didn’t know if I believed in heaven and hell, if I really thought Aiden was locked away in some torturous place for all eternity. Seemed too good to be true, you know? Like, with our mortality constantly in question, we wanted to believe there was something more, something after this terrible world, that the good guys would be rewarded and the bad ones would be punished.

Regardless of whether or not places like that existed, it was too good for him. I wished I could’ve made him suffer more. If things were different, if everything hadn’t gone to shit all at once, I would’ve made him. I would’ve done so much more to him.

But, alas, the circumstances around tonight could not be changed, so here we were. At least the fucker was dead. At least he was gone.

I turned away from Maddox and Sylvester, whipping the heart at the wall. It landed on the wall with a thud, spraying some blood with its collision before sliding to the floor, leaving a red smear in its wake. I breathed hard, knowing I should feel relieved, knowing I should feel happier that he was gone.

What was it I felt? It wasn’t relief, and it sure as shit wasn’t happiness. It was almost… bittersweet?

But that couldn’t be right. I was supposed to feel at peace after all these years. I was supposed to feel like I’d finally closed the door on the chapter that was my childhood. I didn’t, though. I didn’t feel any of those things. I… I had no idea what I felt, only that it was wrong.

My rage at myself blinded me, and for the next few moments, I was uncontrollable. I threw all of his organs. I clawed at the bloodied bedding, grunting, crying out, trying to find that magical feeling, the feeling of closure. But it wouldn’t come. The relief never fully formed inside of me, and maybe that’s why I felt like I was losing it.

My brother was dead, yes. He would never hurt anyone else, it was true, but did that mean there weren’t thousands—or maybe even millions—of men who would do the same? No, this world was filled with monsters, and no matter how long I lived, no matter how many I’d taken off the streets… there would always be more.

More, more, more. More girls to lose it all. More victims to be silenced. More confessions that would never be believed. It would never stop. Never, not until the world itself and all humanity ceased to exist.

I picked up the knife I’d used to cut into my brother, and I started to stab him. His neck, his throat, his shoulders and his arms. I cut into him even though he hardly bled—no heart, after all. Nothing to create more blood to spill. I was so blinded by my rage that I forgot I wasn’t alone in the room, so when hands suddenly gripped my arms and pulled me off the corpse of my brother, I lashed out, cutting whoever it was right on the face.

I struggled so much I was taken to the floor, pinned down as he gripped my wrist and slammed it down on the floor over and over until I lost hold of the knife. Once I let it go, the other one kicked it away. Whoever was on top of me was strong, and he was ticked off that I’d cut him.

Why couldn’t he leave me the fuck alone? Why didn’t I feel better after killing Aiden?

I met the dark eyes of the one I’d cut—a long line down his cheek—and it finally hit me: Maddox. Shit. The cut was diagonal on his cheek, a thin line of blood oozing out of the fresh wound. His dark brows were furrowed, eyes narrowed down at me. His wide chest rose and fell with heavy, pissed off breaths, and I ceased my struggling, laying my head down as I stared at those black, soulless eyes.

Eyes like that whispered lies, just like my brother’s had, only his were different. His might radiate a coldness, but I was not afraid of it. Gazing into those eyes did not instill knots in my belly or fear in my heart, didn’t give me anxiety to the point where I couldn’t see straight. Looking into Maddox’s eyes only did one thing: and that was calm me down.

Maddox glanced at Sylvester, saying, “Give me the knife.” His voice came out gruff and ragged, and I suddenly was very aware of how his body felt on top of mine, his midsection pressed down hard against me, his legs pinning mine down.

“Maddox,” Sylvester started, making no moves to do so.

“Give me the fucking knife!” Maddox shouted, and Sylvester relented, kicking the knife back towards us, though Maddox’s hand was the one that picked it up off the floor. It dripped with my brother’s blood—though I supposed some of it was now his.

File that one under oopsies.

“Now,” Maddox growled out, the blood from his face dripping onto mine; on my cheek, on my mask. “Leave us.”

Sylvester didn’t appear as if he wanted to go, but when I met those pretty blue eyes and gave him a slight nod, he went. His footsteps were heavy as he left the room, leaving Maddox and me alone with my brother’s corpse.

Maddox’s face hovered above mine, just an inch or so above my mask. He didn’t seem too fazed by it, his lips curling into a scowl. “You lost yourself for a bit there, Lola,” he spoke, the words coming out husky, “and you took a swipe at me. Tsk-tsk-tsk. What am I going to do with you now?”

The old me, the me who was new to Maddox and his family, would’ve said he was going to kill me, to hurt me in equal measure, to mar up my pretty face with a cut ten times worse than his. But the me of today, the me that knew my heart belonged to him and his to me, knew differently.

Also, I could feel the hardness pressing against my lower half, and I didn’t just mean his muscles.

His dick. I meant his dick. His rock-hard cock that had probably turned to steel while watching me go at my brother like a psycho. Oh, I wasn’t the only one who got off on inflicting pain.

It was because of that I whispered, “You’re going to fuck me with that knife, and then you’re going to pick me up and fuck me with your cock on the bed.” I mean, it wasn’t an order; more like a suggestion… but I knew it was a suggestion Maddox would never be able to say no to.

The wild glint in his black eyes, the line of blood trailing down his cheek, the ragged breaths that managed to escape his thunderous chest… oh, Maddox looked like an animal in that moment, a handsome, sexy, psychotic animal who was going to do exactly what I’d told him to.

“You dirty girl,” he whispered, moving his face to my neck, where the mask ended. I could feel his lips brushing against the tender skin there as he dragged the knife down my side. Its sharp metal caught on my shirt’s fabric, but that didn’t stop him. “You want to be fucked? I’ll fuck you. I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll see stars amongst all this blood.”

Blood. Amongst my brother’s blood. Because that’s where we were: in the room I’d just slain my brother in, his corpse laying on the bed, his organs strewn about haphazardly. Maddox didn’t care, and neither did I. What would make someone else queasy or uncomfortable was nothing to us. We were two fucked up peas in a pod.

He didn’t move to take off my mask, but his mouth did leave my neck as he worked on tugging down my pants. Couldn’t cut them off because we still had to walk out of this hotel afterward—albeit I’d be covered in blood, but I think covered in blood was better than being naked in front of strangers, along with my two guys who just might massacre everyone in the lobby for seeing me naked.

The floor was wet with blood that had dripped off the sheets, and my bare ass was laid down on it after he’d torn off my pants. I wore no panties, because panties just seemed to hinder the good stuff. No thanks to that. Not right now.

Maddox did it all while holding the knife handle in his mouth, his expression intent and ravenous. Goosebumps rose on my flesh when he took that knife out of his mouth and grinned a wicked smirk in my direction.

Oh, oh this was going to be fun. Who cared if I didn’t feel as good as I thought I would after killing my brother? He was gone, and I could be at peace with that… and then Maddox could fuck my brains out and make tonight even more memorable.

He took the bloody knife to my inner thighs, and I felt the sharp blade being dragged lightly across my skin. Just a bit more pressure, and he’d cut me. He’d cut me inches away from my apex, but knowing him, he’d like it. If things weren’t as they were, if we would’ve had more time to lose ourselves in each other—and therefore more time to recuperate after—I might just let him mark me up a bit.

Alas, we were pressed for time in that after this, we had to return to the cabin in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, and then decide on what we were doing to get back at the Bloody Princess and her crew. No time for extreme knife play right now, unfortunately, for I’d need to be in tip top shape to get back at that fucking bitch.

But, back to what Maddox was doing between my legs.

He’d flipped the steel, so that the non-sharpened end touched me, and he moved the knife against my slit. Slowly, carefully, black eyes watching me all the while. I breathed hard behind my mask, but I didn’t want to take it off. For some reason, I wanted it to stay on, maybe because, in a way, being with Maddox so near to my brother’s corpse was like killing him all over again.

He’d wanted me above anything else in this world, but he couldn’t have me, and now he was dead, never to touch me again.

Maddox breathed out a harsh breath, smirking evilly as he murmured, “You want this?” This, meaning the knife he was currently toying with between my thighs, near my pussy.

God, I could not say the word fast enough: “Yes.” Yes, I wanted it. Yes, give it to me. Fuck me with that knife, let us make more of a mess in this room. Maddox and I could lose ourselves in each other for hours at a time easily, but right now we were pressed for time. Right now, we couldn’t play games.

He was well aware of the circumstances too, which was why he didn’t try to taunt me or go back and forth with me more. Maddox moved the knife in his hand, gripping the steel edge—I had no idea if he was being careful about it or not, I was too busy inhaling as much as my lungs could take when I felt the knife’s handle press against my entrance.

Maddox lowered his top half as much as he could above me, that smirk still caught on his face as he pushed the knife handle deeper into me. A stiff thing, but not too thick. I could feel it slid in, knew when he was hilt-deep because I felt his fingers stopping the sharp part of the blade from going inside.

I wasn’t afraid of pain. Oh, no. My view of pain was askew thanks to the body on the bed, but kicking Bianca DeLuca’s ass with a cut-up va-jay-jay was not on my list of priorities. No, for that, I needed an injury-free kitty, thank you very much.

And then, God, it was the most wonderful thing: Maddox started to fuck with me with the knife, his hand pulling it out before shoving it back in. Over and over, gazing down at me as he did so, blood all over his face, and I couldn’t help but let out a muffled cry beneath my mask every so often.

It didn’t feel as good as a thick cock, of course, but it still felt pretty damn good. Maybe it was because it was the same knife I’d used to cut into Aiden, the same knife that dripped with his blood. It was like me telling my brother he could never have me again. It was fucking nice, let me just say.

As if knowing I was already close, Maddox’s other hand moved to my clit as he fucked me with the knife. He started applying pressure, pinching it, rubbing it, which only further served to make my blood run hotter.

Fuck. I felt like losing it. I felt like losing it, and we’d hardly just begun. Maybe executing my brother, butcher style, was more of a turn-on than I’d thought.

I might’ve said something like “Oh, yes,” but honestly, I didn’t know. I was hardly in my own mind enough to hear what I was saying, mostly because with the knife and his fingers assaulting my clit, everything was a jumbled mess in my head.

My breathing hitched, my back arching of its own accord. My fingers clenched into fists the moment I lost it. Hot, searing pleasure swept through me thanks to Maddox’s hard work, and I cried out loud and hard, coming with a vengeance. Every single nerve in my body was touched by the orgasm, and I never wanted this moment to end.

This… this was life. This was perfect. Maddox and his wild ways were home.

Maddox pulled out the knife, tossing it aside as he got up. His cock pressed against his pants, the monster hidden by fabric, but not for long. “Take off your shirt,” he instructed, “and bend over the bed.” A rough, husky order from the man who was about to fuck me silly.

I got to my feet, stripping off my shirt and bra, tossing them on the floor, away from the mess oozing off the bed. I could feel the warm blood smeared on my ass, and I couldn’t help but smile behind the mask as I watched Maddox take off his clothes. Piece by piece until that impressive, tattooed body was free and that monster of a cock was in sight. Its tip dripped precum, and I knew he was dying to shove it in me.

So was I, I mean. A gal had wants too. It wasn’t just men that liked to fuck. I used to think it was a good stress reliever, that no one could ever take away what you gave out for free… but I was wrong. So wrong.

Some people still took what wasn’t theirs, but I shouldn’t be thinking about that now.

Once he was as naked as I was, I bent over the bed, my hands digging into the bloodied sheets. My eyes roamed to the peeled-open corpse, to the fleshy skin pulled back and held aside by other knives. My brother hardly looked like a human being; he looked like an alien. A messy, disgusting, very dead alien. It was marvelous.

Maddox slapped my ass once, and I jerked forward, not expecting it. He stood behind me, spreading my cheeks. I leaned over the side of the bed, but my feet were still on the floor, and when I felt that bulbous, veiny cock push into me, I could not take my eyes off the gory mess before me, could not look away from my brother.

As that thick cock withdrew from me, beginning a rough and wild fucking—which felt so much better than the knife, honestly—everything felt right. We were two fucked up individuals to want to fuck a few feet away from my brother’s corpse, but that shouldn’t surprise anyone. This… I wouldn’t change a single thing. After all these years, I’d finally found where I belonged, who I wanted, and I would do my damnedest to make sure we would have all the time we could.

Fuck Bianca. Fuck Daddy Luciano. Fuck them all. I wouldn’t bow down and let him kill me without a fight, not anymore. That was the Lola of the past, and she was gone, just as Aiden was.

Maddox’s hands found my sides as his thrusting grew wilder. Harder and harder he pushed into me, filling me up to the brink, so much so that I felt like my stomach was about to explode. When you were filled with a giant schlong, you see, sometimes your body never got used to it. Every time he pulled out, you felt its loss, but when he pushed back in and reminded you just how big he was, how much girth he had, your body went, oh, shit.

Not that I was complaining, though. I wasn’t. I really wasn’t. I would never dream to complain about Maddox, his cock, or how violent his fucking tended to be. It made me feel alive, made the heart in my chest beat a bit faster.

My face was hot, undoubtedly due to the mask I still wore, but I dared not take it off. My eyes lingered on my brother, on the mess near his midsection. The air smelt of metal and blood, the room full of slick sounds and accompanied grunts, and I couldn’t get enough. My tits swayed back and forth, weighed down by gravity, smeared in the mess on the bed.

I imagined Maddox behind me, the unhinged look in his dark eyes, the blood lining the cut down his cheek, and I clenched my inner walls as hard as I could around his cock, causing him to moan behind me and squeeze my sides harder.

We went on like this for quite a while, the two of us lost in our own pleasure, fucking like animals while my brother’s body sagged as much as it could on the bed, given its multiple restraints. Everything in me was on fire, and when Maddox came, he pushed himself so hard into me, my top half fell onto the bed, my arms giving out.

Blood. More blood. So much fucking blood everywhere. It was beautiful.

Maddox’s cock twitched inside me, his balls slapping as he pumped his length in a jerky motion, hands holding onto my sides in a death grip. He emptied himself into me, and even though my face had fallen onto the bed—and into the blood—I smiled.

Oh, yeah. This was nice. I could stay here forever, in this room, covered in blood and fucking. What a life it would be.

Alas, stay we could not, so as Maddox pulled out of me, my core instantly feeling the loss, I straightened myself up, glancing down at my front. I laughed. I couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling up inside me.

I was literally coated in red. Like, in all my life, I didn’t think I’d ever worn so much blood before. Holy shit. I wished I could take a picture or two. Like, damn. My skin wasn’t white; it was stained maroon. My hair wasn’t blonde; it was red.

Maddox had grabbed our clothes, bundling them in a heap. He was nowhere near as bloodied as I was; it was mostly just his feet and his hands, along with the cut on his face—which must not bother him as much as he’d pretended at first. Must not be too deep. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s hit the shower and get out of here.” He started towards the door, and when he realized I wasn’t coming, he paused, glancing back at me. “Unless you’re not done with him yet?”

Oh, there was hardly anything left of my brother intact. I was quite done with him, rest assured. It’s just… leaving this room would be like saying goodbye to him. As ready as I was to forever block him from my mind, to never think of where I’d come from ever again, a part of me grew wistful.

I knew my past. I knew what it held, the horrors hiding there. What I didn’t know was my future, if I truly had one with these guys, if any of us would make it out of this turf war alive.

Eh, well, there was no use in worrying about it now.

I pushed off the bed and followed Maddox to the shower, where we both rinsed off at the same time… and maybe did a little bit more fucking. The cut on his face wasn’t deep, so by the time we got out, it had already stopped bleeding.

I rinsed my mask and patted it dry, hoping the metal wouldn’t rust. I’d never gotten it so wet before. Some blood had gotten on it, of course, because when you killed people with close and personal weapons, like knives, blood tended to splatter. But there’d been more than a drop or two. Almost the entire front of the metal mask had blood on it, and wiping it wasn’t getting the red out from underneath the metal fixtures on it—the flowers and such, I meant.

Because, yeah, it was a kick ass mask made by a somewhat crazy and terrifying man, but it was girly all the same. I loved it. I did. I guess if it rusted I’d just have to have Fang make me another one.

Sylvester was waiting for us in the living room. He’d turned on the television, propped up his feet, and had clearly gone through the food my brother had in the place, for a bag of chips sat beside him, open. His blue eyes turned towards us, and he asked, “Are you two finally done? Can we get out of here, or do you want to fuck some more?”

Maddox scoffed. “As if you weren’t wishing you were in there fucking her yourself.”

Blue eyes glancing at me and the mask I’d put back on—had to walk out of this place with style, you know—Sylvester mumbled, “That’s beside the point, Maddox. We came here to kill him. The longer we stay—”

“The more danger we put ourselves in,” Maddox cut in, waving an annoyed hand through the air. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. We’re done now, okay? So you can stop worrying your balls off.” His words made his brother angry, but I could only laugh.

They both looked at me, and I shrugged. “What? You’re both hilarious, you know. So grumpy.” I pointed to Maddox. “And such a party-pooper.” My finger turned to Sylvester. “How were you two raised with each other?”

Sylvester scowled. “I wonder that exact same thing all the time.”

“As do I,” Maddox mumbled as his brother got up, leaving the TV on.

They both walked toward the door, and I glanced down at myself. Their clothes weren’t too bad, but mine? Mine were stained in red, still wet from the blood, too. Anyone who saw me would know this wasn’t paint or ketchup—but, you know, I walked all through town covered in blood before and no one bothered me, at least not for a while. Tonight should be no different.

I met the guys near the door, and together, we left the room, closing the chapter of my life that revolved around my past and my brother. Goodbye, Aiden, I thought as we headed to the elevator. It was almost a wistful thought, but I was too content now that he was dead. I’d never take it back.

On our way down to the lobby, some people tried to hop on and catch the ride down, but they took one look at us—okay, mostly at me—and froze up. Needless to say, no one got on the elevator with us, and when we walked out of that hotel, we held our heads high. Heads turned in our direction, the people currently walking into the hotel lobby literally jumping out of our way, eyes wide. No one stopped us.

I laughed quietly to myself. People. You’d think they’d never met a killer before, but odds were, they had and just didn’t know it. Fools.

Before exiting through the glass door, I held both hands in the air and flicked the entire place off.

Chapter Nine – Viper

I sat with my brother for a while after the doctor was finished with him. Mike had been hooked up to an IV for a few hours now, the liquid not only hydrating him but also giving him some pain medication. The doctor had given some antibiotics too, which he’d have to take for a while afterward.

I’d stayed out of the way, watching silently during the whole thing. The doctor was on the younger side, maybe only a few years older than Mike and me, but he seemed to know what he was doing, as if bullet wounds were something he was very used to. I didn’t know the whole story about him or the guy he’d come with, Lincoln, but I didn’t need to. All I needed to know was that he was good, and he was.

Mike actually woke up once the last bullet was taken out, but he’d been incoherent and passed out shortly after. The doctor said it was normal, and to give him some more time. Multiple bullet wounds were not something to laugh at; the trauma on the body took its toll. I knew the doctor was right, but I couldn’t help but feel impatient.

I wanted him to wake up, to be alright. He was pretty much the only family I had left. The Lucianos were not the only dying breed out there. We all were, whether we wanted to admit it or not.

The fact of the matter was, the world was changing, and people like us found it harder and harder to stay afloat. No one wanted to face it, though, which was why everyone was so focused on getting back at the DeLucas.

Fuck, don’t get me wrong. I wanted to kill every single person Bianca DeLuca had under her command, and especially the ones that had done the hit on our place. But the idea of taking back the city was almost laughable. I didn’t believe it was possible, frankly. I thought it was a dead man’s errand.

But I would stand by them. If they wanted to go back and make their name known again, I’d help them. I’d do everything in my power to put their name on a pedestal again. The Lucianos would know fame, and the entire city would kneel as it had in the past, before the DeLucas rose to power and started a cold war between the two families.

I did wonder if everything would’ve gotten so bad if Richie had never married Angelina DeLuca. That all happened when I was young, so I didn’t remember much… but I do recall it was like setting off a bomb. For a DeLuca to love a Luciano and vice versa, it was like a Romeo and Juliet situation.

And, shocker, one of them ended up dead, leaving the other alone, bitter and angry.

I stood in the corner of the bedroom Mike was in, alone with him, and as I stared at his motionless figure, I couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what would happen to my brother. Even if he woke up right now, he wouldn’t be able to come with us, wouldn’t be able to help make the DeLuca army pay. He’d be too weak, too injured. If we all died, would he become a bitter old man constantly cursing the past?

Not that I would ever say Richie was an old man, but… he was definitely bitter.

It had gotten dark out a while ago, and I heaved a sigh. A part of me never wanted to leave this room, but I knew I would have to be a part of everything. Someone would have to stay here and take care of Mike—unless he woke up and was cognizant and alert, then maybe he could be left on his own. Still, it probably wasn’t smart.

Then again, if we all died, what would it matter?

I pushed off the wall, shaking my head to myself, wishing I could stop doubting everything. Lola had left with Sylvester and Maddox a while ago, back to the very city we would try to take back, all to kill her brother, who they had apparently contacted and brought here.

I wished I could’ve gone with them. That was something I should’ve been there for, but with everything else… it was a really shitty time. I would give almost anything to be there with Lola right now, even if it was just for moral support. I couldn’t imagine what it felt like to confront your brother who abused you almost all of your life.

A brother like that, he wasn’t really a brother. He wasn’t family. Family didn’t hurt each other. Family kept each other safe and secure and did whatever they could to protect one another. I’d give anything for Mike, just as I would give anything for Lola or Sylvester or Maddox or…

You get the idea. You didn’t have to be blood to be family. Sometimes the best family was the one you found on your own. The blood of the covenant was thicker than the waters of the womb. Not many people knew the real saying; they thought blood was just thicker than water, but when you had the full saying, its meaning was reversed.

Lola owed nothing to her parents or her brother. Nothing at all. I only wished I could be there to watch that motherfucker die, for he rightly deserved whatever pain she gave him before she ended it.

Knowing Lola, it’d be one hell of a mess.

I left the bedroom, heading down the hall. Lincoln was in the kitchen, where he’d been practically ever since he and the doctor had arrived. Richie was out on the front porch, staring off into the night sky. Roman and Carter stood near the couch, where Zoey sat, her arm currently being stitched up by the good doctor.

Not sure what the doctor’s name was; I never asked. Didn’t care to, and everyone only seemed to call him Doc.

“I told you,” Roman growled out, “I fixed it up already—”

“Yes,” Doc spoke, unbothered by the intimidating aura radiating from Roman Russo and completely ignoring the hard glare he was getting from Carter. “I saw the stitches you gave her, and I decided to fix them up a bit—unless you’re okay with her having an ugly scar on her arm, hmm?” He flicked his green eyes to Roman, brown eyebrows raised. “They were poorly done.”

If things were different, I might’ve laughed. Insulting Roman was never a smart thing to do, especially when the man was as riled up as he currently was. Having the Dollhouse shot up—his favorite place, the place where his girl worked—had permanently set him on edge.

When Roman said nothing, Doc spoke to Zoey, “Do you want an ugly scar, or do you want it to be as small and clean as possible?”

Zoey was well aware of how irate Roman was, her gaze shifting between them. All she let out was an “Uh,” as if she didn’t know how to answer him. And then she straightened her back, as much as she could with her arm currently being held by the doctor, and said, “Little scar, please.”

Roman glared at her.

“What?” She tried to shrug, but the motion only made her wince. “I don’t want to look like you and Carter. One of us has to be pretty, otherwise this’ll never work.” Her voice dripped sarcasm, but neither Carter nor Roman cracked a smirk.

Their other member, the civilian who Zoey bullied Roman into bringing here—still couldn’t believe something like that was even possible—must still be in the other cabin.

I said nothing, pushing past them all as I headed for the door. I pushed outside, breathing in the cool night air. There was something different about it. It was cleaner, felt better in your lungs. Nature had its way… unless us humans came along and trampled it all down and built a city in its place. Then there was smog and dirty air and taint everywhere.

Richie stood on the edge of the porch, away from the door. His shoulders were hunched. Even though he wore a suit, he hardly looked like the boss I knew. In fact, ever since coming here, something’s been off about him. He’d sent Fang to fetch a picture from his office, which could’ve ended badly for Fang. I mean, what the hell was up with that?

Plus he let Maddox and Sylvester go with Lola without much of a fight at all… so unlike him.

Shoving my hands into my pockets, I inched closer to him, and as I did so, he not once turned to look at me. I couldn’t tell if he was purposefully ignoring me or he was just spacing out that bad. What the hell was happening to the man?

“You doing okay, boss?” I asked, feeling a bit awkward. A part of me wanted to run back inside and be with my brother, but something was telling me we had to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering Richie.

It took him a long while to turn his gaze away from the stars above and look at me. In the darkness, with nothing but the moon and the light inside creating shadows on his face, he looked—just for a split second—older than he was. Older and so very tired.

When he finally chose to answer me, he didn’t even do that; instead, he asked about my brother, “How’s he doing?” His voice, which was normally rough and hard and stern, was anything but. Richie felt and acted like a shell of a man, and I wondered if this had been building for a while and what happened had been the tipping point for him.

“He’s okay. He woke up a bit after Doc was done, but he didn’t seem to know where he was or anything like that,” I told him. “He’s out again. Doc said it was normal.”

Richie nodded once. “Good, good.”

“No disrespect, sir, but—” I took a step closer to him, and his back straightened, but it was like he had to work to stand straight and not slump his shoulders. His demeanor had always come off as effortless. “—you don’t seem okay.”

“Don’t I?”

“No. You seem off, like something’s bothering you. Is it the DeLucas?” I wanted to smack myself after asking that. Of course it was the DeLucas. Look at where we were, chased from our homes, shot at and attacked in the middle of the night. We’d run away with our tails between our legs. Something like that was bound to affect a man of honor like Richie.

And then Richie said something that caught me completely off-guard, which was: “It’s not the DeLucas.”

I had an apology ready, sorry for bringing up the obvious, but when he said that, the breath was knocked out of me, and I turned to face him. We stood less than two feet apart, and I couldn’t remember ever standing so close to him. Not like this. Not like he was my equal or something. He was Richard Luciano, head of the family, respected among many and wanted dead by just as many. This wasn’t him.

This was a stranger wearing his face.

“It’s… not?” I sounded confused, and that’s because I was. This whole situation was unlike anything we’d ever prepared for, and I honestly thought everything would always continue as they were.

But that was life, I guess. It threw you curveballs when you weren’t ready for them. Case in point was Lola Harding, the Night Slayer, the girl who had captured my heart and my affection even though I’d tried to hold myself back. The girl who also held Sylvester and Maddox’s hearts as well as mine.

“Not entirely, I should say,” Richie amended himself. His hands squeezed the wooden railing of the porch, and for a moment, he said nothing else. His jaw tensed, a vein in his forehead bulging out. “All my life, I thought I knew what I wanted. I thought I wanted what was mine by birth. The Luciano kingdom, the money, the connections, the power.”

I stayed quiet, not knowing if I could speak or not. When in doubt, shut the fuck up when the boss was talking.

“And then I fell in love with Angelina, and we had two sons together,” Richie went on. “Then I thought, this is it. This is what I want. Family above all else.” He paused, and if I had to guess, I’d say his mind was plagued with memories of his late wife, his lady love. I’d never seen him with another woman, not in my whole life. Not since Angelina died.

Or, I guess, technically, was murdered by her own power-hungry sister.

“But I lost her. Even with the money and power that came with being a Luciano, there were still those who would see us fall, those who would do anything to see it. I swore to myself I’d never let someone else in. Love blinded me. I should’ve known it would end terribly, with her being a DeLuca. The idealist in me had thought the animosity between our families would end when we wed, but it didn’t. It only got worse.”

I looked down, off the porch, at the dirt below. I imagined that was why he had this land purchased, why no one knew about it. Why even his sons had no idea this place, these cabins, existed. It was a failsafe, somewhere we could all run to should the need arise. And it had.

Richie said, “All I wanted after that was to keep the peace. I sent Roman and Carter out when necessary, but I spilled no more blood than I had to. I wanted my sons to grow up, to have families of their own, for this stupid war to disappear. And then that girl showed up after killing Mario.”

Lola. I had to be very careful not to defend Lola to him, to just let him say what he wanted and be done with it. It was not a good time to get into a fight with the boss over a girl who had killed his youngest son. Hell, it was never the time for that, but I would not stand by anymore, not if he told me to kill her. Not if he tried to kill her himself.

I loved her, and even though it would betray everything I’d ever known, I would go against Richie for her.

“Now my sons are infatuated with her, as are you,” he muttered, frowning as he shot a glare in my direction. The anger in his gaze was palpable, but he did not raise his voice, did not shout or yell or swear. Richie held himself back, just as he usually did. “The Night Slayer proved to be nothing but a catalyst, and now we’re past the point of no return.”

Lola had poisoned Carl DeLuca. Lola had been ordered by Bianca to kill the last two Luciano sons. Without Lola killing Mario and revealing just how weak the Lucianos were, would any of this be happening?

I didn’t want to think about it, because I was worried it was true, that Richie was right and everything was all because of her.

“I’m not okay, Viper” Richie whispered, shaking his head softly, turning his head upward to gaze at the sky. It was a clear night, no clouds or fog or city streetlights to dull the sky’s natural splendor. The sky didn’t look like this over there, not even close. “I’m not okay, because I am tired of it all. Tired, worn out, done. I’m done, Viper.”

He’d said my name twice there, and it put a really bad feeling into my stomach. A sinking, twisting, knotting feeling, a suspicion that I wasn’t going to like what he was about to say next—for surely there would be more. There had to be.

“Done?” I repeated. “What do you mean you’re done?” Richie couldn’t be done. He was the boss. He was the head of the Lucianos. He was… he was the big man, the one we all listened to. Without him, what did we have?

“I mean…” Richie heaved a sigh, his dark eyes closing as his head turned away from the stars above. Those black eyes, so much like Maddox’s only less crazy, opened and looked at me. “I’m done. I’ll do what I can to take the city back, to make those who hurt your brother and Zoey pay, but after that—assuming we’re all still alive—I’m not staying.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Where will you go?” It was as I stared at him that I realized it: here. Richie wanted to come here, to live here, to get away from it all. Like an early retirement or something.

But he was only forty-six years old. He looked younger than that. He had quite a few strong years left in him. He couldn’t just leave it all behind because he was tired, could he?

“What about Maddox and Sylvester?”

He spoke, “They’re old enough to take care of themselves. They’ve been old enough for a while. Where Maddox lacks logic, Sylvester makes up for it, and where Sylvester lacks the willingness to do whatever’s necessary, Maddox doesn’t. Together, they’ll be fine. They’ll still have you, and your brother. Carter and Roman and anyone else that is still loyal to us.”

It was like trying to accept something that wasn’t right, information that was wrong, trying to swallow a piece of food that really tasted like shit. “You can’t be serious. You have to—”

He interrupted me with a scowl, “I have done everything I can, but lately… losing Mario brought everything to the surface. It was like losing Angelina all over again. I would never expect you to understand, Viper. I have lived fifteen more years than you, have seen things you would never dream of. I’ve earned every right to be done with it all.”

Shit. This was really happening, huh?

“That’s not—that’s not what I meant, Richie,” I said, trying to find the words to say, whatever I could to convince him that he was making the wrong choice here. But, I was slow to realize, he was right. I wasn’t him. I didn’t live his life. I had no clue what he’d gone through or how weary and exhausted with everything he was.

Who was I to judge this man, who’d treated my brother and me like sons? Who was I to say what he could and couldn’t do after so many years of calm and collected leadership? If he wanted to stay here… well, I guess he would. He’d have a new, boring life in the middle of nowhere.

Because there was nothing else I could say, I settled with, “It won’t be the same without you.”

“No,” Richie agreed. “It’ll be better.” And then he said nothing else, giving me a tight-lipped smile as he walked around me and disappeared inside the cabin.

I watched him go, standing outside for a while. The cool air blew in a gentle breeze, and I couldn’t help but sigh. That… that hadn’t gone at all how I’d thought it would. Just when I thought I was getting used to how things turned out, the rug was pulled out from under me.

Richie wasn’t going to stay. He was going to leave, and Sylvester and Maddox would be in control of everything. Richie was under the impression things would be better, but I wasn’t so sure. Not that I was doubting the two brothers, but… but Richie was Richie. He was the boss. He was… he was not the same man he was twenty years ago, I realized. Life had beaten him down time and time again. That was bound to make you want to give it all up and live like a recluse in the mountains.

You couldn’t pay me enough to live here permanently, but if that’s what Richie wanted, well, I couldn’t stop him.

None of us could.

It was hours before they came back. Roman, Carter and Zoey had left to return to their own cabin, which left Richie and I alone with Doc and Lincoln. Doc was a nice enough guy, seemed pretty normal compared to the angry, slightly brooding guy he came here with, and I was beyond thankful for Richie to have brought them here.

Still, I’d be happy to see them go. It meant we were one step closer to payback, and even though I didn’t know who had shot up our place, I would kill every single DeLuca loyalist until I did.

Or until they were all dead. Either or. I wouldn’t be too picky about it.

When beams of light shone through the windows in the front of the cabin, I peeked through the glass, squinting. “It’s them,” I said. My heart beat a little faster, knowing I’d see Lola shortly. I needed to know how it went, if her brother had met his comeuppance after all these years.

Doc had gathered his bags near the door, but he currently sat on the couch, toying with the buttons on his sleeve cuffs. He hardly looked up when I announced it, while Lincoln let out a groan and muttered, “About fucking time. I’m ready to leave this dump, no offense.” That last part was spoken to Richie, who frowned at the stranger.

I was ready to leap into the conversation and say this wasn’t a dump, because this was where Richie wanted to live after it was all said and done, but Richie moved to the couch, which caused Doc to leap to his feet. He offered Doc his hand, saying, “Thank you for your help here, and give Markus my regards.”

Doc was careful in taking his hand and shaking it, looking only a tad awkward.

“What?” Lincoln harrumphed, sneering. “I don’t get a thank you?”

“Did you pull the bullet fragments out of my brother?” I asked, not bothering to hide my snide tone.

“No,” Lincoln relented. “But I did drive all the way here. Not that you care, but that’s a lot of gas—”

“Somehow I don’t think you have to worry about gas mileage,” I muttered, folding my arms over my chest. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Richie disappeared down the hall. He didn’t want to see Lola still, or maybe he just didn’t want to see either of his sons yet. It was possible he needed to work out what to tell them, how to break the news to them that he wasn’t going to take his place, that they both would instead.

Before Lincoln could come back with a retort—for surely he was about to, judging from the way he looked at me—the cabin door opened, and Maddox and Sylvester walked in, followed shortly by Lola herself. I hardly looked at the guys, my attention solely on her.

She held onto her mask with her right hand, her blonde hair kinky like it hadn’t been brushed, some of the strands stained pink as if with blood… no, wait, definitely with blood. She turned toward me when she saw me, grinning her crazy grin when we met eyes.

Oh, yeah. Definitely blood. Her clothes were covered in it. Her shirt, her pants, even her shoes a bit. She looked like a walking crime scene, but just from the look on her face, I knew tonight’s mission had been successful.

And, fuck, even with her clothes doused in dried blood, she still looked ridiculously hot.

Lola opened her mouth to speak, but Lincoln beat her to it, saying, “I really hope you didn’t get blood all over my car. Well, I guess it’s not technically my car, but Markus will be on a rampage if the seats are stained. We try not to, you know, get fucking blood all over the fucking place. Cops tend to frown upon that. Take it from me, I used to be one.”

Maddox, Sylvester, and I all turned to glare at Lincoln, for the more he spoke, the more he grated on everyone’s nerves. Everyone except Lola’s, it seemed, for she held her hands behind her back and skipped towards him, turning the full power of her smile onto the tall, glowering one.

“There might be a little blood,” she purred out. “If there is, what will you do to me?” Lola was flirting with him, which, beyond startling us all, also pissed us off.

“All right,” Sylvester hissed out, sounding more like Maddox than himself, “Lincoln, Doc, your car is back, so if your work here is done, I think you should leave.” His words were not a suggestion, and yet Doc was the only one who headed to the door and kept his head ducked, as if he knew someone was going to explode.

Lincoln’s dark gaze was on Lola, eyeing her up like she was a piece of meat. “I don’t know,” he spoke slowly, running his tongue over his teeth like he could imagine eating her up. “I think your girl wants me to stay for a while—”

My hand went toward my gun while Maddox’s did the same. Sylvester looked like he wanted to kill him, and it was Doc who interjected, “Uh, Lincoln? I don’t think your girl would like that very much.”

Lincoln ground his teeth and glared at the good doctor.

“I mean, I don’t think she likes you sampling the local flavor unless she’s with you, and we both know how those nights turn out,” Doc spoke, sounding quite awkward but managing to stand his ground nonetheless. Surprising. To me, he whispered, “It usually involves a lot of clean-up, because someone ends up dead. Call me crazy, but I don’t think you’d like that happening to Lola.” He said nothing else as he picked up his bags and left, starting to pack the car without Lincoln’s help.

Lola must’ve heard him, so she told Lincoln, “You must have some brass balls on you to think you and your girl could take me. Shall we give it a go?” If that wasn’t an invitation for chaos and certain bodily destruction, I didn’t know what was.

It took Lincoln a moment to say, “Maybe next time, Blondie.” He moved around her and saluted Maddox, Sylvester and me on his way out, leaving the door open even though Doc had finished packing the car. Because, you know, he was an asshole and that’s what assholes did, I guess: left doors open and hit on your girl.

Regardless, once they drove off, Sylvester shut the door, not bothering to hide his scowl as he turned to glare at Lola, who was already on the receiving end of a glower from Maddox and me. Couldn’t help it. Got a little territorial when it came to her, even though we were all sharing her, go figure.

“What?” Lola spoke with a shrug of her shoulders. She set the metal mask on the counter in the kitchen, leaning her backside against it.

“I think it’s pretty hypocritical for you to say we can’t see anyone else, yet you go off and drool on the first new guy that comes into your life,” Maddox hissed out, sounding quite pissed off. His usual, only a bit worse.

Lola grinned. “Do you even know what that word means?” Her thinly-veiled insult at Maddox’s intelligence caused him to bare his teeth like an animal, but she waved him off. “And, come on, you saw the guy. Don’t act like you wouldn’t bend over and take it in the ass from him.”

Okay, that—that rendered us all speechless for a bit.

“I can honestly say I wouldn’t,” Sylvester was the first to say, while Maddox eventually muttered, “Neither would I.” Meanwhile, I was still shocked into silence at what she’d said. Nothing that girl said should surprise me, but time and time again I was proven wrong.

Lola brought her blue eyes between them, glancing at me for a quick moment before saying, “Liars.”

“Not to change the subject,” I started, really wanting to change the subject if I was honest, “but how did it go? I’m guessing, by the amount of blood you’re wearing, you did it?” For some reason the words you killed your abusive, rapist brother wouldn’t come to me. I still hated the fact that he’d hurt her all those years, that no one ever lifted a finger to help her or stop him from doing it more.

She nodded. “Yes, the bastard is dead, and now we party—or, we would, if we didn’t have other people to kill.”

“Tomorrow,” Sylvester said. “We come up with a firm plan tomorrow. For now, sleep. It’s been a long night.”

That was certainly something I could agree with, and as the others got ready for bed, I couldn’t help but wonder when Richie would break the news to them. I doubted he’d tell them before everything went down, because it might cause Maddox and Sylvester to not be at the top of their game. He’d only told me because I’d pried it out of him.

Even though my brother’s condition was looking up, I knew things would never be the same.

Chapter Ten – Lola

Bianca’s warm, amber eyes drilled into me, her middle-aged face lit with a smile that most people would fall for. Me? I wouldn’t. I would never. I was used to dealing with liars and thieves, so the mask she wore was see-through for me.

Still, she kept trying, which was annoying.

We sat in the same drawing room we’d sat in during our first official meeting. I wasn’t counting our little conversation at the Gilded Rose, mostly because I didn’t know who she was then, while I did now. A pity I didn’t know; I could’ve stabbed her in the throat with a butter knife or something. Anything I could’ve gotten my hands on at that club.

If I would’ve known who she was… we could’ve avoided all of this.

“Lola, dear girl, I do hope you’re not thinking of betraying me,” Bianca spoke, sipping from a teacup in her hands… a teacup I could’ve sworn she didn’t have a minute ago.

“Of course not,” I told her, though my voice didn’t exactly sound believable. I sounded like a terrible liar, which was ironic, because I’d made my whole life these last few years based on lying to everyone else, especially the poor saps who took me home with them expecting an easy fuck.

“Look at yourself, dear,” Bianca said. “You think the Night Slayer can challenge the Bloody Princess?” She chuckled, reaching and puffing up her blonde curls, the teacup suddenly nowhere in sight.

Weird.

I glanced down at myself, finding that I wore one of the dresses I used to wear while clubbing, along with the thin, four-inch heels that accompanied them. Easy to act drunk in heels like that, tripping over my own feet and anything and everything on the floor in front of me.

I blinked, and then my red dress was wet with blood. My hands and arms coated in slick red, and the strangest thing was I couldn’t remember where all this blood had come from, whose it was. Did I kill someone else? I… I couldn’t remember.

“You’re a fool if you think you and those pathetic Luciano boys can beat me,” she went on. She wore a white shirt, its sleeves loose on her arms, coupled with matching white pants. Such an elegant, refined outfit, something I could never wear because I’d dirty it up instantly. Bianca DeLuca was practically royal.

“I don’t—” I started to say I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about, even though I totally did, but my voice stopped coming out. Odd. I was pretty fucking sure my mouth was still going, but no sounds came out of me. None at all.

What the hell was going on here? Something strange was happening, because this was… well, it was just unreal.

The sound of a door opening behind us caused Bianca to smile at someone who wasn’t me, and even though I didn’t turn to look to see who it was, deep down, I knew. I knew, and I thought: this can’t be happening.

“There you are,” Bianca said, blushing a bit. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

The person in question stopped when he stood beside the lounge chair I was on, and I felt my heart rate spike immediately. I opened my mouth to ask Bianca what the fuck was going on, to demand to know why he now stood in front of me, but still, my voice was silent. It would not come.

Probably because the man who stood beside the couch was the one who always knew how to best silence me growing up.

Aiden. My brother. My sick, twisted, despicable brother who, I used to be under the impression, should be dead. And yet he wasn’t; he was here, two feet away, sluggishly drawing his stare away from Bianca as he looked at me, his blonde head cocking. Those pretty blue eyes twinkled as he smiled at me, and my gut hardened in the worst way.

No. No, no, no.

Since I could not speak, since I could do nothing apparently, I got up, my intent to run away, because… because what else could I do? What else was there to be done? No matter what I did, regardless of where I went, this monster would haunt me until the end of my days. He’d insured my innocence was lost, and he stuck a hand into my brain to make sure he’d always have a place with me.

I could never get away from him. He was my darkness, my fear, my strength. Aiden was everything I was and nothing I should be. Why couldn’t I escape from this never-ending nightmare, this haunting of souls?

“Where do you think you’re going, dear?” As soon as Bianca spoke, my legs stopped working. I couldn’t move a single step more, couldn’t run to the other side of the room to get away from my brother… and that allowed him to step closer to me, to smile at me, to reach his hand up and caress my cheek like he was a long-lost lover and not the worst kind of devil there was.

No redemption. No salvation. He would only crash and burn, and he’d take me down with him.

“Well?” Bianca spoke, and Aiden dropped his hand from my cheek. “I didn’t bring you here just to reunite you with your sister, boy. You know what you have to do.” Again, she sipped from a teacup that wasn’t there before, smug and satisfied by her own handiwork.

She might not be my brother, but she was just as bad, killing her own family all because she saw them as weak, because they didn’t believe the same things she did. She was evil. She manipulated and connived, plotting and planning for years, all so she could be the one in charge, so no one could question her decisions. She was the root of it all, the crumbling foundation, the rotting stump, the sugar in the concrete.

It wasn’t my fault. Things would’ve happened sooner or later without my involvement; I just happened to help speed it all up, and now she was thanking me for my help by letting my brother have me.

Helplessness. Wasn’t that what she’d threatened me with before? But how could she know—

Aiden’s hands grabbed both my arms, curling around my skin in a sickening display of possession. Even though it was the last thing I wanted to do, I found myself on the floor in front of Bianca, Aiden on top of me. My heels had fallen off, my dress somehow already hiked up to my hips. Just a bit more, just past my thighs, and then he’d have what he’d missed for so long.

I tried to scream, tried to fight, but all I could do was hit him—and even that was short-lived, because his hands found my wrists easily and pinned them back, just above my head. It was just as Bianca had said: I was helpless. This was my worst fear. She’d taken one look into my eyes and known somehow, the bitch.

Aiden released my wrists to undo his belt and his pants, but I still couldn’t move my arms. They were held above my head, and my legs… suddenly my legs were tied with rope, around my ankles, holding them wide open.

We weren’t in the DeLuca mansion anymore; we were in a fancy penthouse suite, and Bianca stood in the shadowy corner, watching as my brother freed himself. Aiden and I were on a bed, a bed of red sheets—only the sheets weren’t red because of the dye on their threads.

They were red from blood.

Voiceless, powerless, helpless. This was always my fate, and Bianca was letting it happen. She wanted to use me, and when she couldn’t, she went on the offensive. I was too blind to realize it, and now look at me, back to where I’d started, beneath my brother.

His hands tugged my panties aside, and I closed my eyes, no longer trying to break free, no longer attempting to scream with a voice that wouldn’t come out. I could do nothing here. Destiny had its hand in this, I guess. Some endings weren’t meant to be happy ones, and mine? Mine would be tragic.

Choking, stifling, stinging. Were tears coursing down my face or was it all in my head? Real or imaginary, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except what I started to feel between my legs. Even though I didn’t want it, my body still always seemed to take it. What a traitor it was.

The air in my lungs stopped being useful, and I held my breath, refusing to breathe, wanting to die. Death would be so much more preferable to this… this awful, terrible life.

Why wouldn’t death take me?

My eyelids flew open, and I jerked up, sitting in a bed that was unfamiliar to me. Light came in through the curtain, and I felt my wrists, looking all around. No Aiden. No Bianca. No bed of blood. My breathing was erratic and short, and I couldn’t quite catch it. It was like, no matter how many times I breathed in, it still wasn’t enough.

My body felt wrong, but I was alone, at least. No brother. No unwelcomed guest between my legs.

Aiden was dead, I reminded myself as I got out of bed, only slightly wobbly on my feet. I wore nothing below the waist and nothing but a t-shirt on my chest. It looked like everyone else was already up, and I hurried to get dressed. There were no clocks in this room, but from the sheer amount of sunlight streaming through the curtain, it had to be way past dawn.

Who knew torturing and killing your brother—and then getting freaky around his corpse—was so tiring? Really, I would’ve taken a power nap on the way there if I would’ve known I’d be this tired the next day.

I… I didn’t know why I had that dream. It wasn’t the first time my brother had literally haunted my sleeping hours, but this one felt too real. This one had my brother and Bianca at the same time, my brother doing what he did best while Bianca looked on, as if she approved of it all.

Helpless. She threatened me with helplessness. I didn’t think much of it until now, and now that I was thinking about it, I knew what I had to do.

Did that mean the others were going to agree? No. In fact, they’d probably fight me on it, because it was a stupid idea with no guarantee it would work, but I just couldn’t let it go, you know? It was like a little bug had gotten into my brain thanks to Bianca, and all this time it had gone on with its life, blissfully unaware as it planted eggs inside me. Well, those eggs had hatched, and… now I realized just how fucked up that analogy was, so never mind.

Whatever. The point was it backfired on Bianca. She wasn’t going to scare me into submission. I wasn’t going to kill Maddox and Sylvester for her, but we already knew that. She didn’t, though, which put her on the stupid as fuck team.

Seriously. Why would I kill the guys I cared for? Why would I hurt the ones I loved, the ones who made me feel alive? The ones who helped me shine a light on the monster in the dark and kill him for good? I would never. I might not be the greatest one around, but give me some credit.

Pushing out into the hallway, I heard voices in the living room. Richard’s, Sylvester’s; not Maddox’s though. Or Viper’s. I assumed I knew where Viper was, so instead of going to meet the others, I went right across the hall, walking into Mike’s room, where the big giant lay on the bed, his top half propped up with pillows.

And, wonder of all wonders, the big guy was awake.

I didn’t even see if Viper was in the room; I rushed to the bedside, chuckling in happiness to myself as I went to hug him. Yeah, yeah, guess that was a little overboard, but I just couldn’t help myself. He was alive and awake, and all the guilt I’d felt that night about his and Viper’s possible deaths faded away into bliss.

Bianca and her crew couldn’t take anyone away from me. They couldn’t even hit an apartment right. Fuck them.

Mike let out a grunt of pain, and I quickly pulled myself off him, finally seeing that Viper sat on the other side of the bed in a chair, watching the entire thing. If I had to bet, I’d say he’d slept there, for he certainly hadn’t crept into my bed last night… unlike two other someones.

“Sorry,” I apologized, eyes glancing down to the wound on his stomach. He wore no shirt, his big, lumberjack frame looking pale but not deathly so. The doctor had stitched him up and put bandages over his wounds, and the IV that had been hooked up to him before was now empty and pulled out. I guess, since he was now awake, he could take his own medicine and not have it pumped directly into his body.

Mike said nothing, though his hazel stare did dart to his brother. His brown hair was greasy and messy, the stubble on his face more like a budding beard than anything else. He’d never been one to keep his face clean, but after getting shot and nearly killed, I supposed that would be last on his list of priorities.

The man, as cute and lumberjack-y as he was, looked like shit, but at least he was alive.

I sat on the edge of the bed, unable to stop staring at him. A part of me feared that if I did, I would never get to see him again. Nothing like a life or death scenario to make you realize certain things. My heart might not belong to Mike, but it did belong to Viper, and anyone who was important to Viper was important to me.

“How long have you been up?” I asked, glad Mike didn’t scowl at me or give me a look that said I hate your fucking guts, bitch. I never wanted him to blame me for what Bianca had told her men to do.

Mike let out another groan, though this was not as pain-filled as the first. “A few hours,” his voice came out raspy and dry, and I saw the plate of eggs and glass of water near Viper on the nightstand beside the bed. Half-eaten, half-drank. He probably didn’t have much of an appetite. “Enough to get caught up.”

Nodding once, Viper added, “And to want to come with us when we go back.”

“What?” While Mike sounded tired and wounded, I came out shrill. No way in hell was Mike going to come with us. I bet he couldn’t even walk properly without pain shooting down his body. Even if we loaded him up with anti-pain meds, he was still too weak to bring along, and it wasn’t like this could wait a month while his body healed up. It had to be done now.

“I know,” Viper said. “I told him no. He’s too weak.”

“And I said I didn’t give a flying fuck what he thought,” Mike muttered, his voice cracking on the final word, which caused him to shake his head at himself. He gestured for the glass of water, and Viper got it for him. After two sips, Mike said, “I won’t let my brother go on a suicide mission without me.”

Ah, the lovely bonds of siblinghood. Something I never had, obviously, but as I watched the two brothers arguing about what would happen, I couldn’t help but grin. It was more than clear they cared for each other, that they would both do whatever they could for the other. Having one and not the other go on a, to use Mike’s choice of words, suicide mission, would be terrible, especially if one ended up dying.

But that’s not what was going to happen. I had a plan, and though they all might think I was crazy for this plan, as far as I was concerned it was the only damn plan we had that might just give us a future.

“I’m going,” Mike said again, the glass of water now empty. His voice sounded a bit better, but still tired and strained and weaker than normal.

“No,” Viper spoke. “You’re not. I’m not going to let you. If you come, you know I won’t be able to focus on what we’re doing. All I’ll be able to think about is you and how you shouldn’t be there. When I should be busy shooting those fuckers up, I’ll be busy trying to protect your weak ass—”

Not exactly the nicest way to put it, but Viper wasn’t wrong in what he was saying—and Mike knew this. He knew this, which was why he shut his eyes with a sigh and frowned.

“It’s alright, big guy,” I told him, rubbing his arm… the arm that wasn’t injured, luckily. “We’ll handle it. And if we don’t, then I guess you’ll just have to heal up and kill them all after we’re dead.” They made movies about that shit, and I could easily imagine Mike going bonanza on the city.

That said, I meant it one hundred percent when I said we were not going to die. This wasn’t a suicide mission, at least not for them. For me? Eh, maybe, but if anyone should die, it should be me. Not Sylvester, not Maddox, not Viper or Carter or Roman. Not even Daddy Luciano. Let it be me. Let the Night Slayer do one good thing before meeting her maker.

Mike’s eyes opened to slits, and he stared at me with an unreadable expression. Hmm. Maybe what I’d said didn’t make him feel better. Oh, well. I’d never been too great at giving comfort, mostly because I’d never been comforted or sheltered myself.

Because I had to say it, I told him, “I’m sorry about what happened.”

“It ain’t your fault,” Mike mumbled, breathing a loud sigh. “It’s that bitch Bianca’s. We should’ve dealt with her a long time ago. Richie knew for years how unstable she was, but he never let us at her, always wanting to keep the peace. And now look at it all. Everything’s gone to shit.”

That… that was the most I think I’d ever heard Mike talk in the entire time I’d known him, and I couldn’t stop smiling at him. His voice was low and gruff, the exact type of voice you’d imagine paired with a man who stood well over six feet tall and was as wide as a fucking mountain.

He had a nice voice. He should talk more often.

“Speaking of Bianca,” I spoke as I slid off the bed. “I have an idea.”

Viper’s jaw tensed, and he got up, moving around the bed to stand near me, and I couldn’t help but toss a glance in his brother’s direction, wondering how much he’d told him. Did Mike know Viper cared for me, or did he carefully leave that out of everything? I wouldn’t blame him if so, but it did make me curious all the same.

Man, it was funny how quickly things changed, huh? Not like ha-ha funny, but more like the ironic kind. It sure as hell didn’t feel like too long ago when they all looked at me with mistrust and utter hatred for killing Dickless.

“Why do I have the feeling your idea might just get you killed?” Viper muttered, brows coming together. He stood less than a foot in front of me, and yet he did not close the distance between us—maybe because of his brother on the bed, watching, or perhaps because he knew my idea, as he said, might just get me killed.

Better me than them, though.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and hear it with everyone else,” I said, shrugging my shoulders once before turning and leaving the room. My bare feet bounced on the wooden floor of the cabin as I headed down the hallway, towards the living room, where voices echoed. Couldn’t tell what the hell they were talking about, but it didn’t matter. Whatever cockamamy plan they’d come up with was nowhere near as good as mine.

Viper was right behind me, but I ignored his questions as I walked. You see, after killing my brother, after finally finding my place in this world, I could feel it in the air: it was getting close to closing time. It was time to hang up the mask and let the world turn to a new chapter, and honestly, I didn’t see myself in this new chapter.

What future did I have, really? Sure, I could be with my men, but would they be happy with me forever? Would we live until ripe old age, the four of us a family? Or would they get tired of me… would they wish for the one thing I could never give them?

A child. Babies. Another generation with the Luciano name.

Something like that was out of the question.

They might say they loved me now, but would they feel that way forever? It almost seemed like too much to hope, too much to wish for, and after everything I’d done in my life, I was the last person who deserved to be happy. Sad, but true. Pitifully true.

“Lola—” Viper spoke my name, grabbing my arm just seconds before we emerged into the living room. Standing with him in the dark hall, I was slow to meet his gaze, which was so similar to his brother’s.

About the only thing that was similar on them, really. They were twins, but not the identical kind.

His hand around my arm was not tight, not uncomfortable in the slightest. It was not the way he would’ve grabbed me in the beginning, when he’d hated me just like everyone else, when he was curious as to who I was and why I did what I did. It was a gentle grab, his fingers warm and tender even if their hold was like steel.

“What?” I whispered. “If you think you can convince me against going hard at this, don’t bother. I’m the one with the least amount to lose here. Not you, not Mike, and definitely not Maddox or Sylvester. Carter and Roman have Zoey—”

“And we have you,” Viper murmured, pulling me closer to him, slamming my front against his. He didn’t appear too happy with what I’d said. “Don’t act like this is nothing. It’s not. If you think any of us would let you march off to your death while we stood back and hoped for the best, you’re stupid.”

That made me chuckle. “Stupid, eh? I guess so, but I mean it. You have your brother, Maddox and Sylvester have each other and their father still… all I have is you guys, and once I’m gone, I doubt you’ll think of me for long.”

That got him to let me go and take a step away from me. “Where is this coming from? Yesterday you couldn’t get enough of us, saying you loved us. Was that all a joke to you, then?”

“No,” I quickly said. A part of me knew there was nothing I could say to Viper to make everything okay. This just wasn’t one of those situations, unfortunately for all of us. We were here, and now we had to figure out a way to get out. If there had to be a sacrificial lamb, it should be me.

I never thought myself a selfless gal. Everything I did in my life, I did for me—killing my parents, becoming the Night Slayer, killing my brother… it was all for me. It made me feel good to make the streets and clubs safer. It helped me sleep at night knowing that I had found my voice again, in the form of a shiny steel knife.

“I meant every word I said,” I went on, hoping Viper believed me. “But this… none of this is going to be easy, Viper. Do you think I’d willingly do this for anyone else? Fuck no. I wouldn’t even dream of it. I wouldn’t care enough to, but I want to see you guys back in your rightful place. I’d do anything to see it.”

He ground his teeth. “You still haven’t told me what your plan is.”

“Then we best get to the others, so I can,” I said, spinning on my heel and walking out of the hall, leaving Viper behind for only a few moments. I emerged into the living room, finding Maddox and Sylvester standing near their father by the window, near the door. Richard was gazing out while Maddox and Sylvester talked amongst themselves.

For a split-second, all I could do was stare at the brothers. One light and one dark, both monsters of their own making. Neither was scared to get his hands dirty, neither was innocent. They’d grown up in a family of crime, and they were not afraid to stare the devil in the eyes and flick him off, much like me.

I did love them. I did. As much as someone like me could love, I felt for them, and that was purely why I was about to suggest what I was seconds from saying.

“So,” I spoke, causing Maddox and Sylvester to look at me. Richard, on the other hand, kept his gaze firmly on the outside world, refusing to look at me because, you know, I killed his youngest boy and he still wanted to strangle me for it.

The man could get angry, that’s for sure. But even so… he looked a little different right now. Couldn’t say why or how, but he did. Maybe it was the way he was standing or something. Eh, whatever. My focus was not on Daddy Luciano, but on the plan.

My plan.

“I have a plan,” I stated boldly, holding my head high as I placed both hands on my hips. What I should’ve done was run a brush through my hair and brush my teeth, because I was sure I looked like I just rolled out of bed. Oops. It was obvious I wasn’t a planner, not usually. I was more of a spontaneous kind of gal, someone who liked winging it every opportunity I could.

“We already have a plan,” Sylvester spoke, leaving his brother’s side to come to me.

“No, you’ll hear me out,” I told him, stopping him in his tracks. “Because, no matter what plan you guys came up with, I can promise you mine is so much better, and it might actually save some bloodshed.” That got Maddox and Sylvester to stare at me like I was crazy, and Viper to crease his brows like he didn’t understand.

I know: me, wanting the less bloody way? Did we step into opposite day when we weren’t looking or something?

Before I could say anything else, I laughed. It was the stereotypical Lola laugh—meaning it was laced with crazy. “Can I first just say, you guys are fucking idiots.” Okay, if there was a way to earn the wrath of multiple people at once, I’d just learned it. Call them all idiots and laugh at them. Noted for future reference, if there was a future for me. “Now, before you go ballistic on me, listen. You guys were on the top for years—that’s because you were family. You always thought there was more of you than them.”

I moved to the couch, plopping myself down right in the middle of it, lifting my legs and placing my feet on the wooden coffee table before it. “And then you learned the DeLucas—and by that, I mean Bianca—had been slowly turning your people against you. When they learned of Dick—I mean, Mario’s passing, Bianca shifted her plan into gear. She was waiting for an opportunity to swoop in and take hold of the city. By killing Mario, I showed you guys were weak and ripe for the picking.”

Since I could tell Big Daddy wanted to shoot me with the gun on his side, I made sure to add, “Sorry about that, by the way. But, back to the point: she was able to bully you out of town pretty quickly, and she wanted me to be her assassin.”

“You don’t need to recap everything,” Sylvester spoke, folding his arms over his chest. He wore a suit, much like his father, and also much like his father, he looked drop dead sexy in it. Square shoulders beneath the dark grey fabric, he was everything any girl could ever want. “This plan of yours, what is it?”

“Now,” I said, “hear me out, because this plan hinges on the fact that you guys are idiots and going about this all wrong. Bianca was planning her ascension this whole time. She killed her father after I poisoned him, which leaves her as the heir to the DeLuca throne—but that’s just it. It’s just her. She has no kids, right?”

Sylvester shook his head. “None that we know about, anyway.”

“Bullshit,” Maddox growled out, frowning. “We’ve never even heard about any boyfriends. She’s kept to herself her whole life.”

“I used to have a teacher in high school,” I said, remembering the man well. He was an odd, eccentric man whose classes were often full of stories that had nothing to do with what he was actually teaching. I hardly paid attention in any class, mostly because I was so miserable, but I remembered the man himself almost perfectly.

Ninth grade. Grey hair. Wrinkly face. Thin, wiry, tall frame. A weirdo through and through.

“He said to win a war, there are four things you can do. The first is to kill them all—that’s just not possible here, because we don’t even know who they all are. Bianca has been turning people for a while, long before you got wind of it. The second way is to kill just the right number for them to surrender—which, again, I don’t see happening. The third is to capture the flag, but they don’t have a capital or anything like that, so that definitely doesn’t fit—”

Richard grumbled, “If you don’t get to the point, girl, I’m going to lose my patience and shoot you.” His words caused both his sons and Viper to glare at him. Viper even moved to stand between us so Richard would have to shoot through his body to get to me.

Awe, how sweet.

“The fourth,” I went on, “was to kill the leader. That’s what we need to do here. You guys think you’re waning in power? Bianca is the last DeLuca left—she is alone in her bloodline, and once we take her out, who will lead them? Who will feed her men the crazy ideas she had? No one. Without her, they’ll crumble.”

“Or another family will fill the void,” Sylvester suggested.

“We can deal with that when it happens,” Maddox said, narrowing his stare on his brother. “For now, she’s right. We need to get that bitch out the picture.”

“And how do you suppose we’ll get to her?” Richard asked. “She won’t be walking the streets, waiting for you to stab her in the neck. I doubt she’ll be in public at all until she gets word we’re gone.”

He was right, of course, which was why I was ready to say, “No, but she’ll be tucked away at home, waiting to hear back from me.”

“The only way they’ll let you into their house is with our heads,” Sylvester said, and he wasn’t wrong. But, at the same time, he was just a bit.

I leaned forward on the couch, grinning ear to ear. “Oh, I’ll bring her heads… they just won’t be yours. I would like them to belong to whoever shot up Viper and Mike’s apartment, but I’d settle for anyone.” I’d never cut a head off before. The thought was probably too enticing, but that was just because I was a little on the crazy side.

Sylvester sighed. “When she sees they’re not our heads, she’ll have you killed on the spot.”

“Not if we’re alone,” I shot back. “Bianca is confident—too confident. The Bloody Princess thinks no one is her equal. I can get her alone, I’m sure of it.”

“And then?” Maddox questioned.

“And then I kill her,” I said, figuring that much should’ve been obvious. It was the whole point of this talk. Kill the opposing army’s leader, and there was no one left to take her place; Bianca had made sure of that as she killed her family one by one.

Kind of like me, but different, because her family had never hurt her. Her family had never abused her. The only thing they’d done to her was be weak in her eyes, unworthy of the power and the status position being a DeLuca came with.

“Going to war will only end up killing every one of us,” I said. “This way, we might actually have a chance at beating her ass.”

Viper spoke, “And if you don’t beat her? Then what?”

“Then you try again, only without me, because if I fail, I’ll be dead.”

“And if you succeed, you’ll be dead,” Viper couldn’t let it go. “Do you think her people will let you walk out of that house if they know you killed their boss?” I knew he was thinking that if someone tried to kill Richard, he would act the same.

But Richard and Bianca were not the same. They didn’t inspire the same feelings in those that followed. Bianca led with fear, and it would be to her detriment, because fear was an ever-changing thing.

“Maybe,” I admitted, pretty fucking calm considering what we were discussing. Me, possibly marching to my own death. It was something that might not have meant much months ago—I’d desperately wanted capital punishment in the form of the electric chair—but here and now? It meant a hell of a lot more. “Or maybe they’ll have nothing and no one left to fight for.” I gestured to myself. “Maybe they’ll crown me their new leader.” The thought was too much, and I couldn’t stop the laugh from bubbling up my throat.

The room fell silent for a long while, everyone caught up in their own thoughts. My guys probably didn’t fully agree with my plan, but it had to be better than whatever they’d cooked up themselves. Going to war, you couldn’t be haphazard or slapdash. You had to know who your enemy was and how to hit them hardest, and going after Bianca herself was, in my opinion, the quickest way to end this and take back the city.

The ones loyal to her would either find someone else to flock to, or they’d realize their mistake in bowing down to a crazy psycho bitch. Either way, things would change. They would change, and the DeLuca name would be no more.

God, it almost sounded too good to be true.

“It’s a better plan than what we had,” Sylvester was the first to speak, although he didn’t sound particularly thrilled with it. “I can call Fang, see if he can do a little digging around. If he can find who shot up Mike…”

“Then we can go in and kill them, and Lola can deliver their heads to Bianca in a bloody sack,” Maddox hissed, fists clenching, as if he was ready for a fight. He probably was. The bloodlust in his gaze was not an unfamiliar thing.

“She gave me a week to kill you guys,” I said. “I want to be on time. No running late. If Fang can’t find out who it was, then we’ll just go to a DeLuca hideout and find other heads. Shouldn’t be too hard.” That was in theory, although in practice, things might turn out differently. Guess we’d have to wait and see.

Still, I couldn’t wait. Things were finally coming together.

Forget the Bloody Princess. This city needed a queen.

Chapter Eleven – Lola

Days passed, and the days were long and practically unbearable. Sylvester had gone into town and used a payphone to call Fang—a fucking payphone, because they’d all abandoned their cell phones when they’d made the escape here.

I know. What fucking town had a payphone these days? This wasn’t the nineties. This wasn’t some cheesy horror movie from fifteen years ago. Apparently payphones were still a thing in the middle of nowhere. Beyond fucking strange to me, but whatever.

Ugh, I could not wait to get out of this place. This fucking cabin and the trees and the nature and all the fucking dirt. Just not my thing, okay? To each his own, sure, but this was not my thing at all. I much rather preferred cities and their paved paradises.

Roman and Carter were game for the plan, although I think Roman was only going along with it because he thought I would end up dead. The man still kind of hated me, and I couldn’t blame him. Still kind of hated myself too, you know. That self-loathing was going nowhere, and if I died, it would haunt me in my grave.

Assuming I had a grave, if I died. Maybe I wouldn’t. Maybe they’d throw my body in the river or bury me in the DeLuca’s backyard.

We were cutting it close, that’s for sure. And then, the night before our last day, when we’d have to give it up and find other heads, Fang appeared, swooping into the cabin like our savior.

The man was just as intimidating as I remembered him being, and when he spoke, I kept seeing flashes of the sharp silvery metal in his mouth. He wore all black, as I imagined he usually did, and in the shadows, you could hardly see the silver tuft of hair near his left temple.

We gathered around the kitchen—Viper, Maddox, Sylvester, Richard, Roman and Carter… and even Mike, who refused to sit in bed all day. He wouldn’t be joining us, as much as he hated it. He moved too slow, the wound in his gut still hurting him. He was lucky to be alive, and I couldn’t imagine how different things would be if he would’ve died that night.

Terrible. Things would’ve been ten times worse.

Fang reached into his pocket, pulling out a few things. Pictures, crumpled up and folded to fit in his pocket. “It wasn’t easy, but I found them,” he said, working to unfold the first picture. “No one wanted to talk to me, since they think I’m a Luciano dog, but I found some chatty people.”

It amazed me that Fang could go and talk to those kinds of people without anyone trying to kill him. Maybe they were just that afraid of him. Didn’t blame them one single bit, because if anyone in this cabin was like a serial killer from the movies, it was Fang.

I know, weird, since I was the actual serial killer here and Fang just had a taste for metal.

“These guys were all ones who shot you up that night,” Fang went on, mouth glittering with silver as he glanced to Mike and Viper. He slid two pictures toward them, and I saw on one there was a gruff face of a middle-aged man, balding, with a goatee.

Ew.

The other picture had what looked like a group of three friends. These ones were younger, maybe in their thirties. It looked like the photos were copied from somewhere online and printed on white paper.

If I had to guess, the older gentleman took point while the younger three were the arms of the mission. Either way, no matter who was in charge of the hit, they all needed to die. And, of course, the idiots should’ve checked to make sure their marks were actually dead.

Fools. We were literally dealing with fools here.

Fang had two more pictures; these ones he unfolded and slid to Roman and Carter. “And I know you didn’t ask me to find out, but I figured you might want some payback, too. Those are the fuckups who shot up the Dollhouse and almost killed your girl.”

Carter looked like he wanted to kill someone, as did Roman. For the first time in a while, their animosity was not turned toward me.

“Unfortunately,” Fang went on, “they don’t hang out in the same places. If you want to get them all, you’ll have to split up.” He then explained just where these guys liked to hang out. Our group liked to hang out at a bar—the younger three guys, anyway. The older gentleman roamed a bit more, so it would take more time to nail his ass.

Which was fine, because three heads were plenty. One more than I needed, actually, but we were still going to kill each and every one of them.

Roman and Carter’s group liked to play poker every Saturday night—and what would you know tomorrow was? Saturday. So, while we hit the bar, Roman and Carter would wait a few hours and make their last poker night one they wouldn’t soon forget.

As for the guy who didn’t have a permanent hangout, we’d get him. Provided we all lived through this, we would make him regret ever agreeing to be Bianca DeLuca’s little bitch.

“Now, unless you need something else from me,” Fang pushed away from us, looking suddenly bored, as if this was not exciting enough for him, “I’m going to go wait it out.” His silvery grey eyes darted to Richard, who couldn’t seem to wipe the frown off his face. “Good luck with it.” It would seem he wouldn’t offer his frightening self in the fight, but that was fine.

I was more than confident we had all we needed, and that was me.

Bianca DeLuca, ready or not, here we come.

We didn’t leave right away. We waited until well into the morning the day after Fang left. Day seven, the last day I had to accept Bianca’s deal or face the consequences. She could threaten me with helplessness all she wanted, but I wouldn’t bow my head and kneel before her like everyone else.

The Night Slayer bowed for no one.

Maddox, Sylvester and Viper were coming with me. I figured I’d walk into the bar first, scope it out. It was quite possible our guys might not even be there. Who knew? If that was the case, and they weren’t there, I guess I’d get the bartender’s head and someone else’s. Sooner or later we’d kill those fuckers; shooting up Viper and Mike’s place was not something we could just let slide. It had to come with consequences, one of the correct times to come down on all those involved with an iron fist.

Or a bullet in the face. Either one.

Roman and Carter were going to wait a few hours and then follow us, doing their own thing. It was fine; I didn’t need their help, nor did I want it. I knew they wanted to make those responsible for their girl’s injury pay, and I didn’t blame them for it. If I was in their shoes, I’d want the same thing. Vengeance, plain and simple.

Wasn’t that what all of this was about?

Mike wasn’t tagging along, even though he was mobile. Barely mobile, I should say. He was still far too weak and would only bring down the effectiveness of our murderous group. I know he wanted revenge too, but he had to accept that he couldn’t come. Maybe he could kill that old guy later on, once he was fully healed up, but today was not that day.

Daddy Luciano was going to stay back and take care of Mike, which was fine. I guess since it was my plan we were going ahead with, he didn’t want a part of it. He still hated me for what I’d done, and even if my plan succeeded and I killed Bianca, he’d always hate me. You could never make up for killing a son in the eyes of a father who loved him in spite of his tendency to take home girls who were drunk.

Or, hell, maybe it wasn’t about me. Maybe Richard was staying back at the cabin with Mike because he wanted to see if his sons could make a stand. Like a test, or something? I didn’t know. I wasn’t in Richard’s head, so I wasn’t sure what the man was thinking.

I dressed in black leggings that clung to my ass and calves, needing a wide range of movement that tight jeans just wouldn’t allow. My shirt was an off-white color, one of the ones I’d hurriedly packed when I’d stumbled upon Fang in the Luciano house. I still had no idea why he’d been there, but it wasn’t my place to wonder, I guess.

Why a practically white shirt, you might ask? Well, I find that the stark contrast of fresh blood tended to stick out more when it was on white fabric. When I walked into the DeLuca house, I wanted each and every one there to see me as who I was. Bianca was the Bloody Princess, but I was so much more than that.

I brought my mask, of course, but beyond wearing it at the bar… I didn’t know if I would wear it with Bianca. I guess I’d wait and see how I was feeling in the moment, because as soon as we hit that bar, I had to do some beheading, and then I had to get my ass to the DeLuca house as quickly as possible, before she got wind of what happened.

Couldn’t sit around and be slow, you know. Not at a time like this.

I sat in the backseat with Maddox, Viper in the front passenger seat while Sylvester drove. The car ride was silent, no radio, no one talking at all. We were each lost in our own heads, in what might come after today, how we might fail. After all, no plan was fool-proof. This might be a terrible mistake, but at this point, what did we have to lose?

Our lives. Our freedom. Okay, so there were a few things we could lose, but I think after everything, we didn’t care. We had one-track minds when it came to getting back at those who’d wronged us.

Revenge was a funny thing. People said it didn’t serve anything, that you didn’t feel better afterward. I might’ve agreed with them, had I not been living a life full of revenge these last few years. My mother, my father, my brother. After killing Aiden, I’d felt numb almost, hollow, even though I should’ve been excited.

I think, now, I was just in shock at the time. Like, I couldn’t really believe it. My brother was finally gone, no longer a threat, no longer looming in the back of my mind at every turn. He was gone, deader than dead, and now I could breathe easily. Now I knew I was happy he was gone.

You see, those people who always said revenge wasn’t worth it had no idea what the fuck they were talking about. That, or they’d never experienced true horror in their lives. If you were tortured, if you were raped, if someone tried to kill you… why wouldn’t you want to get back at them? Why wouldn’t you daydream about their brutal, bloody death?

Or maybe that’s what psychos did, but even so, at least vengeance was served.

“I know the bar Fang mentioned,” Sylvester spoke sometime during the ride. “It opens at noon. We’ll get there at one.” His blue eyes were on me in the rearview mirror, and I smiled.

“And then I’ll go in and see what we’re dealing with,” I chimed in. Meaning, I’d see if those guys were actually there. With any luck, they would be, and we’d make short work of them.

Viper mumbled, “I still don’t like sending you in there alone.”

“They know your faces more than they know mine,” I said. “The minute you three walk in, they’ll know something’s up, which is why I’m going in first. If you hear shouting or shooting though, feel free to come in.” Hey, you never knew what might happen. Had to be ready for anything.

“She’s right,” Maddox said, agreeing with me with a side-glance of his dark stare. “Plus, she can handle herself.”

I turned my smile onto him. I would’ve blushed if I was any other girl, but I was me, and blushing was so not my thing. “Thank you,” I said. “Either way, we’re leaving that bar with heads.” We’d brought along a pillowcase from the cabin, which Sylvester had tucked away in his pocket.

You know, for the heads.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit nervous about all of this. Every night I’d gone out as the Night Slayer with the intent of hunting another victim, the stakes were never this high. It was always just me, and the person who would pay the price for any missteps on my part was, again, me. But now there were others who would pay if I fucked it up, which put a lot of pressure on my shoulders, let me tell you.

So, yeah. I was nervous. At the same time though, I was also excited, thrilled to finally be going back, to see that bitch’s face again and tell her just what I thought about her. Give her the firmest answer in the world, which was a resounding no. No, I would never join her. No, I wasn’t going to kill my men for her. No, no, and fuck no.

Bianca thought she was so special. She thought she was the best. The idiot bitch thought she was above everyone else simply because she was cruel and bloodthirsty and wasn’t afraid to show it. Newsflash, honey, that didn’t make you special. All it made you was enemies.

Me? I could be cruel, and I was definitely bloodthirsty, but I liked to think I had a tad more charm than that woman.

I was offered one of the knives from the kitchen in the cabin, but I refused. I preferred to see what my surroundings had. In a bar, there was always something. A bottle, a hidden gun behind the counter, something. Plus, with my leggings, there weren’t exactly any pockets I could shove a sharp knife into. A, that would hurt me. B, it would be completely obvious because you’d see the imprint of the knife in the leggings. So, no, today I had to go in weaponless, but I’d make do. I always did.

My face was glued to the window during the drive, and I watched the scenery slowly change from the middle of nowhere, all trees and nature, morphing into the suburbs that surrounded the city. And then, like a miracle, we were back. Shiny new buildings, multiple stories high, busy sidewalks and so many people going about their day. Lucky them.

As I watched them, I couldn’t help but wonder whether they knew. Just because the Lucianos and DeLucas owned this city didn’t necessarily mean every single person knew about it. I bet there were so many people just going on with their lives, blissfully unaware of how dark this city’s underbelly was. Ignorance was truly bliss. If I wasn’t me, I might be jealous of them.

But I was me, so I wasn’t. I would never want to live in ignorance. Give me the truth, and don’t shy away from its ugliness.

Sylvester found the bar, and he parallel parked in front of it, near a few other cars. Hopefully that meant our gang was here, celebrating another week done. Maybe they thought, since they hadn’t heard hide nor hair of the Lucianos or Viper and Mike, they’d succeeded in killing them or something. Dumbasses.

All three guys turned to me, Sylvester and Viper fighting their seatbelts to do so. Three pairs of eyes, all trained on me, each a different color but each one worried all the same. Even Maddox, the often scowling and irritable one.

I picked up my mask, giving them a smile. “Here goes nothing.” And then, before any of them could correct me or scold me for saying that, I got out of the car and headed to the bar’s front door. It was one of those wooden doors that jutted out a bit from the building, the kind of door that had its own tiny roof. Kind of old-fashioned, but when I stepped inside the bar, I knew why.

The whole place was old.

All of the places I’d seen in this city were newer, minus the houses in the poorer districts. Like where I’d lived before all this. To see such an old place in the middle of downtown was startling, almost.

Inside, everything was dark. The mood was definitely set. There were only a few windows in the front of the bar, and there were so many signs put up in those windows that hardly any natural light was able to get in. Everything was made of dark, worn-down wood: the benches on the side of the bar, the walls, the floor. Everything.

When I walked in, the bartender looked up, but he must have decided I wasn’t worth much, for he went back to cleaning glasses behind the counter. Near him, on a mirrored wall behind the counter, sat all different kinds of alcohol. Some were in pretty bottles, others weren’t. He had a tap for beer, but he definitely didn’t shy away from the special, expensive stuff, either.

I scanned the bar as I walked in. An older gentleman who looked like he was drowning himself in the bottle—or, rather, the large glass of tawny liquid in front of him—sat in the far back in one of the booths. He wasn’t the one holding my attention, though.

That honor belonged to the group of three sitting on the stools near the bar counter, as far down as they could, away from the bartender. A group of three younger guys who looked remarkably like the ones I’d seen in that picture.

My heart actually skipped a beat when I saw them. They were here. They were actually here. Viper was going to be happy, at least.

I moved to the counter, taking up my own stool. Three empty stools sat between me and the group of three, and I noticed the three men could not stop checking me out; they’d started the moment I walked in. Did they know who I was? A part of me hoped they did, because then they knew what would come next.

And if they didn’t know who I was, maybe they just thought I was pretty. Most men did. It was a curse… but it was one reason why I’d been so successful as the Night Slayer.

I set my mask down on the counter, lifting a finger. The bartender saw and came over, eyeing me up like he didn’t trust me. He saw the mask and said nothing. “Give me your best,” I said, flashing him a smile.

Normally, with me being twenty-two, they’d ask to see some I.D. or something, but this guy didn’t. He said absolutely nothing as he turned, got a shot glass, and picked out one of the fanciest bottles from behind him. As he poured the stuff in front of me, I could smell its potency. Something like that could knock you off your feet, so it was a good thing I was already off them.

My smile didn’t seem to affect the bartender, and he returned to what he’d been doing before without saying a single word to me. Well, okay then. Kind of rude, but then I supposed I could let it slide because, odds were, he was going to die here anyway. Let him have one last hurrah as a grumpy old bartender before he met his untimely demise.

Emphasis on the untimely part, I thought, running my finger along the rim of the shot glass. All these idiots probably thought today would go just as every other day had. None of them knew who I was or why I was here.

A pity, because it’d be so much more fun if they were scared of me.

I didn’t have to sit alone for long, for one of the three men had gotten up and sauntered over to my side, holding onto a beer bottle. His index finger trailed along its side, and he leaned on the counter beside me. Just his elbow, because he was too cool to take the stool next to me, had to show his dominance or something by showing me how tall he was, I guess.

Men. Ugh. They just grated on my nerves sometimes. I was so fucking glad all these guys were going to die, no offense to the older man in the far back.

He made no attempt to hide the fact that he was checking me out, his eyes falling to my backside, taking in the curvature of my back. Then he smirked at me, as if his smirk held the answers to the universe.

Hell no. The only smirk that affected me and my kitten was the smirk of the dark-eyed Luciano in the car. Not this stranger. Never this stranger.

“What’s with the mask?” he asked, and I resisted my urge to groan. So far, he needed to work on his flirting. He was not very good at coming onto a woman, clearly. Hell, with the way he was currently eyeing me up like a piece of meat, I’d bet anything that he was someone I would’ve gone home with and murdered if I was on the hunt.

I responded to his question with silence for a few moments. Instead of meeting his creepy stare, I kept my eyes glued to the shot glass and the liquid inside it. “You really want to know?” I finally said, the smile that appeared on my mouth far different from the one I’d given the bartender. A wily, feminine smile, the sly kind that made men think I had a wonderful, sexy secret to tell them.

He let out a short laugh, taking a sip from his beer. I heard what was left of it sloshing around; it sounded nearly empty by now. “Yeah, and after you tell me about the mask, you can tell me your name.”

Oh, he thought he was just rolling in stud muffin juice. I could not emphasize this enough, but no. He was not sexy, nor was he appealing in the least. Maybe I liked my men to be a bit more dangerous than most gals did, but this guy? Come on. I bet he and his buddies hung out here so much because they had nothing better to do. No women to tie them down. No good job to return to come Monday. Nothing at all.

I chuckled, as if he was funny. As if I liked his sleazy attention. Before I said anything, I grabbed the shot glass and brought it to my mouth, downing the contents. It burned in my mouth, and it scraped the sides of my throat going down. A fiery kind of drink, one that instantly made me feel alive.

“This mask,” I spoke as I set the shot glass down, running my finger along the teeth on the mask, “is very special to me, actually.” Around him, I could see his two friends watching, grinning, smirking amongst themselves as if they were cheering on their friend to get lucky on a random Saturday in the middle of the day. What fucking losers.

“Oh yeah? And why is that?” Even though he asked, I could tell he didn’t really care. He wanted to get to the good stuff.

“I bring it with me everywhere I go,” I said. “It’s very pretty, don’t you think?” Surely the idiot had to realize by now I wasn’t really going to tell him anything. Not anything important, anyway. He meant less to me than the dirt on my shoes, so why would I waste my breath on him trying to explain how special it was and why?

Men like him never listened. That much I’d learned years ago.

One of his friends called out, “Put it on!” He was having such a good time, laughing, and his friend joined in with him. The man standing close to me shot a look at his friends, but they were unapologetic.

“Once I put it on,” I warned, “there’s no going back. Do you think you’re really ready for that, hmm?” I came off smug and assured, which I think was the only reason the man beside me nodded. “Okay, you better get ready, then.” Another warning, which he took to mean something sexual, I guess, because it was true: men only thought with the head between their legs and not the one on their shoulders.

Idiot.

I reached for the mask, and my smile disappeared behind its metal frame. The man beside me stared at me all the while, expecting, I don’t know, something to happen. His friends laughed at me, while the bartender kept his distance, not even glancing in our direction.

“Why are your friends laughing?” I asked, cocking my head slowly, my blonde hair falling over my face. I could feel my hot breath thanks to the mask, and my adrenaline started flowing, knowing what I was about to do. “Don’t they know you’re all about to die?”

I spoke my question so evenly, so seriously, that for a moment, no one said or did anything in the bar. Not a single sound rose up; even the bartender had stopped cleaning glasses. Everyone was looking at me, save for the gentleman in the back, who was mumbling to himself about how he needed to piss. Off in his own world, that one. Maybe I’d let him live.

Finally, the man beside me said, “What?” An uncomfortable chuckle came from him, and he glanced back to his friends, adding, “This bitch is nuts—” He might’ve said more, but honestly, I stopped listening to him.

I took a hand and brought it to the back of his head, grabbing his neck and whipping his head down onto the wooden countertop. His forehead smashed against it so hard I think I heard something crack, but I couldn’t be sure. Not the time to linger on whether or not I’d cracked his skull, because I was busy grabbing the beer bottle out of his hand and breaking it against the edge of the counter.

I let the man go, figuring he was too dazed to really do anything, pushing off of my stool and sprinting towards his friends. They must not have had their guns on them, the idiots, because they both tried to come at me with their fists. I ducked and dodged, moving elegantly, like a dancer. I supposed we all were: dancers on a stage, enacting the great tale of life and death.

The man in the corner of the bar ignored what was happening, too drunk and lost in his own problems to realize shit was going down.

As the first man grabbed his head and started to swear, unable to stand straight on his own two feet, I lunged at the nearest man, letting him punch me in the gut only so he was distracted with finally landing a blow on me to realize I’d brought the broken bottle to his neck.

The dark glass pierced his skin easily, and it was kind of like popping a balloon, if the balloon was in the shape of a neck and the inside of the balloon was full of blood and not air. I yanked the bottle out, ducking as his other friend came at me from behind. Blood sprayed out of his neck, so much and so fast the poor idiot started slipping on his own mess.

Oh, yeah, I definitely hit the important artery.

His friend, the only one I hadn’t yet touched, had wide eyes, and I giggled. “Are you ready for me? Here’s your three-second warning. Three, two—oh, fuck it.” Without saying anything else, I ran at him, and together we tumbled and slid to the floor.

The man wasn’t that big or muscular. I kneed him in the groin pretty fucking hard, which caused him to yowl in pain. I brought the bottle to his chest, stabbing him again and again until he stopped making any sounds at all. The other man with the neck wound fell to the floor behind me with a loud thump; dead. I didn’t have to look to know it.

I glanced up, finding that the bartender was loading a shotgun he’d pulled out of nowhere. What a silly, silly man. Meanwhile, the original guy had finally shaken off the impact of his forehead meeting the counter, glaring at me with hate-filled eyes.

I sat on the chest of his friend, smearing my hand in the wound on his chest, getting a good coating of blood on it. I wiped it across the mask, knowing he couldn’t see the grin behind it but smiling all the same. “I told you,” I said.

The bartender whipped the barrel of the shotgun closed, the shells in the chamber, ready to fire in my direction, but it was at that moment someone else held a gun, pointed directly at his head just a few feet away. The man had been too busy loading up to realize Maddox, Sylvester, and Viper had come into the bar.

“Drop it,” Sylvester spoke, sounding very much like he wanted to pull the trigger and kill him. I didn’t blame him, of course, but any shots fired would cause more of a scene than we needed.

The bartender took his time in lowering the shotgun, swearing under his breath as he set it on the counter, and Maddox grabbed it.

“Viper,” Sylvester ordered, “get the door. We don’t want anyone popping in while we’re getting down to business.”

As Viper switched the open sign to closed and locked the front door, the man whose friends I’d just killed glared at Sylvester and Maddox. “You,” he spat. “This is all about you, isn’t it?” He whipped his head around to glance at me, a trail of blood coursing down his forehead where I’d slammed it into the counter. It ran along his nose and to his mouth.

His head… kind of looked like it had a dent in it, no joke. It was kind of funny.

“And you’re the Luciano’s new bitch,” he spoke, swaying somewhat.

I got to my feet, but behind him, Maddox hit the back of his head with the butt of the shotgun, causing the man to crumple to the floor. Still alive, still conscious, but barely. “You and your fucking friends shot up my buddy’s place the other night,” he growled out, and before the man could get to his feet, Maddox stood over him, sneering. “That’s him, by the way.” He gestured to Viper. “Still alive, as is his brother. You and your friends failed. How does that make you feel?”

The man started to say something, but Maddox quickly added, “Actually, I don’t give a shit.” And then he proceeded to bash his face in with the butt of the shotgun over and over until the man’s face was nothing but an unrecognizable bloody pulp.

“Awe,” I whined, “you should’ve let Viper kill him.”

Maddox bared his teeth, getting in a few more hits to the guy’s head—which was starting to look more and more like a gory, smashed melon. “Viper can get the other guy.” AKA the older guy who wasn’t here. He threw a look at Viper over his shoulder, his face splattered in red. “Remind me I said that, when the time comes.”

Viper let out a sigh as he nodded. At this point, there wasn’t much he could do about it, anyway. All that mattered was these three were dead.

“Now,” Sylvester spoke, glaring at the bartender, “what are we going to do with you? We came here for two heads—I was going to suggest we take theirs, but after seeing you about to shoot my girl, I think we should take yours as one of them.”

The bartender said nothing, knowing whatever he could say wouldn’t matter. Smart man. The first smart thing he’d done this entire time.

Maddox stood up, wiping his sleeve on his face, smearing the blood there. The butt end of the shotgun dripped in red and brain matter, and I knew we definitely couldn’t take that guy’s head. There was barely any head left after Maddox’s fit.

Glancing at the man in the back, the man who was still too lost in his own drink, Maddox questioned, “What about that guy?”

Bouncing to my feet, I moved toward Maddox, looking at the guy in question. “Honestly,” I whispered, “he hasn’t even reacted to any of this. He must be drunker than I thought, or high or something. We could kill him, I guess…” Even as I said it, it didn’t sound too right. Just looking at the guy, knowing he spaced out so much he didn’t even react to multiple murders committed just fifteen feet away, a part of me wanted to leave him alone.

Maddox must’ve had the same thought, for he said, “Let’s see if he reacts when we start cutting heads off.”

Sylvester never lowered his weapon, but he did smile at the bartender and ask, “Where’s your sharpest knife?”

Seeing as how he had no other choice but to tell us or die, the bartender instructed where we could find the sharpest one in the place. It wasn’t too big, but with enough power behind it, it could probably cut through a spine. Guess we’ll see.

“Let’s do the bartender first,” I suggested. “I don’t like how he’s staring at me with those beady little eyes.” A part of me wanted to pop them out before hacking off his head and putting it in a sack.

Hah, oh, God, we sure as hell weren’t heroes, huh? No good guys would ever think to do what we were about to. But, you know, that’s just fine. You had more fun in life when you were not encumbered by morality. The world had created this monster in me, and I was keen on letting her free as often as possible.

Turned out, cutting off a head without the right tool was not an easy feat. I tried to do it, at first, let myself drown in his screams, but then I got to a point where I just couldn’t jerk the blade through his neck anymore. Never thought I’d see the day when I handed it over to someone else, but today was apparently that day.

Maddox took over—or he would’ve, had Sylvester not pushed him aside and said, “Let me.”

I blinked. With the bartender dead, I supposed it wasn’t like he had to keep his gun trained on the guy anymore. And, if I was honest, I was curious. I’d never seen Sylvester lose it before. Seeing him cut a head off might just give me a spontaneous orgasm.

Don’t judge.

It was… a gory as hell sight, standing back and watching Sylvester cut the man’s head off. His fingers weaved through the man’s hair, the bartender’s eyes open and rolled back into his skull. Oh, it was everything I imagined it would be and more. Blood was everywhere. All over our clothes, a mess on the floor, staining everything.

Blood painted a picture that was almost too beautiful.

Sylvester made it through the spine with a yank of his arm, his strength helping to snap the bone joints. The sound that filled the air when he completely severed the head was sickening almost, but it made me grin all the same. The look he wore in his eyes was unlike anything I’d ever seen before.

Maddox might lose himself sometimes, but Sylvester could, too. A pity I didn’t see this vengeful angel of death before now. We could’ve had loads of fun.

Alas, today might just be the end of it all.

With the blood still dripping from the bartender’s severed head, Sylvester motioned towards his pocket, and I hurried to his side, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the pillowcase. He dropped the head in before tossing Viper the knife, saying, “You pick the other.”

Viper caught the knife’s handle easily, making it look effortless, and he said nothing as he walked past Maddox, who now leaned over the bar counter, pouring himself a drink. He’d set the bloody shotgun down in favor of the alcohol. Viper chose the one I’d stabbed in the throat, and then he got to work.

Before long, the pillowcase I held onto cradled not one but two severed heads, its white fabric stained red with blood. The bottom of it dripped, in fact. Such a wonderful sight. And, funnily, the man in the back was still too focused on whatever problem that currently plagued him to see the blood and carnage.

I heaved the pillowcase over my shoulder, glancing at all three of my guys. “Well,” I spoke, grinning wildly behind the mask I wore, “shall we get this show on the road?”

Chapter Twelve – Lola

For someone who wanted me to work for them, for someone who had all but threatened me into submission, you’d think she would’ve given me a way to contact her besides walking the city streets and finding her house. Going right to her front door and ringing the bell.

But she didn’t, so here I was, doing just that.

I’d abandoned the others at the bar, walking out of it and breathing in the bright light of day deeply, filling my lungs with as much air as they could handle. The guys had given me directions to the DeLuca house, which I’d tucked safely away in my brain to use.

It took me a while—I’d never had to actually know where I was going before, not quite like this—but I found myself in the fancy, hoity-toity district of town soon enough. On the way, I’d only scared a dozen or so people, while I’d immobilized more than that. No police came to get me, to haul me away for the crimes I had committed, but that’s because this town was basically lawless. The police were here, they were around, but they didn’t really do shit.

During the walk, the walk which seemed to drag on for all eternity, I imagined how the confrontation would go. Would Bianca be shocked to see me, or would she not care? Would I even make it to her, or would her men surround me, demand to see the heads in the bag, and shoot me right then when they saw neither head belonged to a Luciano?

So many possibilities, and it was not the first time it had occurred to me that I might be walking toward my death.

Death. For so many years of my life, I’d longed for it. I’d wished for it to come and literally sweep me off my feet. I’d wanted to die, but I was never the kind of person who would end it all herself. Sure, when I was younger, surrounded by my parents and my brother, I’d thought about it, but I could never pull the trigger. Suicide just felt so final, and I guess there’d always been a part of me that hoped for a better future.

Ironically, I’d gotten that better future after murdering a mafia man’s son and becoming their bitch. Who would’ve known that was where I’d end up, and that I’d learn to enjoy myself so much? That I would learn to feel again, to want something other than the electric chair and the notoriety that came with it?

I sure as hell never thought I’d see myself here. Fighting for other people, doing everything I could to ensure they had a future.

Me? I wasn’t stupid. I wasn’t naive. I… I knew I didn’t have a future quite like they did, but that was fine. I’d tag along for the ride as long as they would let me, provided I made it out of this day alive. Which I might not.

Bianca might kill me. She was the Bloody Princess. During our stay at the cabin, I’d learned more about her, discovered why she was called that. Turned out, Miss DeLuca had a thing for cutting people up and watching them bleed, and when she did it, she acted as refined as a princess, never letting the blood touch her. Personally, I’d call that being a persnickety little bitch, but maybe that was just me.

We were fundamentally different. She wanted power. She made sure anyone she thought was weak was out of the picture, that they didn’t deserve to be alive. She wanted to be above everyone else, a power-hungry bitch if I ever saw one.

We were not the same. Where she could not get blood on her, I bathed in it. Where she wanted nothing but strength in those she surrounded herself with, I didn’t care. Where Bianca wanted to be on top of everyone else, I just wanted to be respected and not eyed up like a piece of meat. We sought different worlds, fought for different things. If she truly thought we could run the city together, that I’d become her dog instead of the Luciano’s, she could not be more wrong.

I would never ally with her. I would never be loyal to her. Bianca had been a fool to try to get me onto her side; she should’ve had me killed when she had the chance, when Tony…

My feet stopped, and I turned to face the house I stood before. A mansion, more like. The DeLuca’s place, a house I knew well after being forcibly taken here, among other things.

Now was not the time to think about Tony, or what I had to do in that office in the Gilded Rose after Carter had gotten the call and left. I’d pushed it from my mind, though it had probably helped lead to my mental break. I’d kept it to myself all this time, refusing to tell anyone, keeping it a special, dark secret inside of me.

If I lived through this, I’d tell the guys all about what Tony did when he had the chance with me, and they would scour the city for the fucker, not stopping until they got their hands on him.

Hands. If there was ever a person out there who didn’t deserve to keep his hands, it was Tony, now that my brother was dead.

Closing my eyes for a split-second, I started the long walk up to the front door. The front yard was the kind of yard with a stamped concrete driveway, bushes and fountains and everything else that reminded me of home, of Lionsgrove.

That place… it wasn’t normal. Now that I was older, now that I knew the true horrors of the world, I could look back and see it: no one cared enough to believe me because everyone in that city was dealing with their own shadows, with their own monsters in the dark. Why would anyone try to save me when they couldn’t even save themselves?

I expected guns to come popping out of the house, for people to suddenly appear and tell me to freeze or something. I was wrong though, because absolutely nothing happened as I made the long walk to the front door. Nothing at all.

Huh. That was weird.

I rang the doorbell, adjusting the sack over my shoulder. I still wore my mask, and I would refuse to take it off. This was the Night Slayer now, and she wasn’t going anywhere.

Minutes ticked by, and I leaned back, looking at the surrounding windows near the door. I saw no movement, no signs of life. My eyebrows creased, and I dropped the sack beside my feet, the heads making a squishy sound as I did so.

“Hello?” I spoke out loud. Maybe there was a speaker nearby or something? I didn’t know. When you had money like this, you were able to do whatever the hell you wanted with it. “It’s Lola. I have some heads you might like to see.” As I spoke, I gently nudged the sack near my feet. The blood on the bottom of the pillowcase stained the stone step I stood on, and I hoped it was especially porous and never washed out.

Blood had a way of staining everything.

You know, for someone who was very adamant about the whole seven-day thing, you’d think she’d be here, waiting for me. You’d think she’d have a little hope that I’d betray my men and come work for her. Why else would she go through all the trouble to meet me in the first place?

The lock on the door made a sound, and the hinges on it creaked as someone pulled it open. The man who stood there staring at me was the driver who’d taken me from the Gilded Rose and brought me here.

He looked surprised to see me, stammering, “Uh, you’re—”

“Yep,” I said, well aware that I was covered in blood and probably looked like I’d just crawled out of someone’s nightmare. “It’s me. I’m here for Bianca.”

He studied me, my mask, and then his gaze dropped to the bloody pillowcase near my feet. “Are those…” A cat had his tongue, I guess, because he could not get out a full sentence. That, or my appearance was worse than I thought it was.

“They are,” I said, grabbing the pillowcase and swinging it up over my shoulder again, lest he get the idea to check the heads. “Is she home? Don’t keep me waiting in suspense. My poor heart can’t handle it.” A big, fat fucking lie, because my heart could handle a lot of things, as it turned out. It was a very violent thing.

“Sure,” he said. The man ducked his head, spinning on his feet as he led me deeper into the house. He brought me to the same room I’d had my first meeting with her in, the same room I’d dreamed of.

I plopped myself down on one of the lounges, leaving the pillowcase o’ heads on the floor. I was purposefully getting the blood everywhere I could; the more I annoyed Bianca, the better, especially if the bitch ended up killing me. What could I say? I was a spiteful one.

“Let me…” Again, he trailed off, as if he could not speak in my presence or something.

“Go get her?” I suggested, and he nodded once. He was gone the next moment, and I reclined back, spreading my arms out and rubbing the blood on them onto the cushions of the couch. The room was full of light colors and a plethora of natural light; the only blemish was me and the mess I made.

Oops.

I didn’t know how long I waited, but it was at least a few minutes. I didn’t know if she made me wait extra long because she was trying to show me she was the one who had the power here or what. I didn’t care. Either way, it wouldn’t matter soon enough.

This game was finally coming to an end. The fat lady was about to sing. The curtain was mere moments from falling. This was a showoff I’d never anticipated, but one I welcomed all the same. Only one of us would make it out of this room alive. The Bloody Princess, or the Night Slayer? Buckle up, buttercup, because we’re all about to find out.

I heard footsteps behind me, but I didn’t get up and greet her, didn’t even toss a glance over my shoulder to know it was her. They weren’t hard footsteps; they were the footsteps of someone who was used to tiptoeing around like a fucking cat. Noiseless to some, but I heard her, because I played the game the same way when I went home with unsuspecting idiots.

You had to be quiet when you left a man in his room, naked and ready for sex, and went to the kitchen to find something sharp.

Bianca walked around, heading to the chair across from the couch I sat in. “I was starting to worry you wouldn’t play nice, Lola,” she spoke, about to sit down when she spotted the blood on her couch and on her floor from the pillowcase. Today she wore a white blouse with a set of dress pants that, yes, were also white.

It was like she knew. Like the bitch was tempting me to stain her clothes with bright red.

“Oh, yeah,” I chuckled, “sorry about the mess. I guess I’m not as clean as you are.”

She strained a smile before sitting, crossing her ankles instead of her knees, and folding her hands across her lap. Wearing just the barest hint of makeup, Bianca looked as if she was trying hard not to seem interested. Her blonde hair was drawn up, away from her face—unlike mine, which hung in a mess around my face and mask, the yellow tips stained with blood.

“I like your mask,” she said, eyeing it up. “It makes you seem almost otherworldly. Is that Fang’s work?” She spoke of the man as if she knew him, and maybe she did. Fang said he tried not to get involved in the politics of the warring criminal families, even though he clearly belonged to the Lucianos.

“It is,” I said with a nod. “Have you met him? He’s a very peculiar fellow.”

“He is,” Bianca agreed hastily, and again her gaze fell to the bloody sack near my feet. Making small talk was like torture for her; she wanted to see Maddox and Sylvester’s heads, but she wasn’t rude enough to demand it straight away. “We met once, years ago.”

That’s the problem with royalty, you see. So many useless customs and habits. It’s why the monarchies fell. Being called the Bloody Princess was only asking for a repeat of history.

“I’m surprised you didn’t have your goons kill him too,” I muttered, choosing my words not as carefully as I should’ve, but not caring enough to take it back. Her men were goons, that much was true.

She let out a short chuckle. “My goons, as you call them, only went after who I told them to. Fang might be close to the Lucianos, but his skills are unique enough to make him useful to me.” AKA Bianca hoped to put him to good use after the Lucianos were gone. That shouldn’t surprise me at all. “Now, you did not come all this way with baggage like that just to talk about Fang, did you?”

“No, I didn’t, but before we get into this, I do have one more question for you.”

“Go on.” Her back was rod straight, as if she was poised and ready for me. A smart woman, but a smarter woman would’ve had me restrained before beginning this conversation with me in the first place.

I couldn’t help myself. “How is Tony doing?”

That clearly wasn’t what she expected me to say, for her eyebrows came together. “Tony? He’s doing well enough, I suppose. Why?”

“Tony and I have unfinished business, you see,” I said, moving the pillowcase, dragging it so it sat between my feet. I held onto its open side, my knuckles white. “If I pledge myself to you, I’m going to need to be able to kill him.” Why not be honest with the woman I was here to kill? It wasn’t like I’d lose anything.

She didn’t blink at that, nor did she ask why I would need to kill him. Bianca merely thought about it, and I could almost see the gears turning in her head. She would lose Tony, but what was Tony really worth to her, anyway? He wasn’t particularly good in a fight, and he’d already proved to her that he was willing to betray those he was supposed to be loyal to. What he did didn’t help his case at all.

It took Bianca a while, but soon enough she muttered, “Fine. I’ll let you have Tony. Now, show me.”

I smiled behind my mask, wondering how I should do it. Should I reach in myself, grab whichever one I could get ahold of first, and whip it at her? Should I hand her the sack instead and let her have a peek inside? The moment she realized they were not the heads of Maddox and Sylvester, she’d attack. Or she’d call her men to kill me.

I decided to get up, sack in hand, dragging it along the floor and smearing a bit of blood on the way. Depositing the pillowcase before her, I said, “Here you go.” She took the end of the pillowcase from me, and I moved toward the window, gazing out, waiting.

Waiting, waiting, waiting. My life had been so full of it lately, but before that it’d been nothing but action. Living life one quarter-mile at a time, because I had no life. I’d been a shell of a girl for so long, and the Lucianos had unwittingly breathed me back to life. I could never repay them for that, nor could I ever make up the fact that I’d killed the youngest Luciano. The most I could do for them was help get rid of their biggest problem.

Bianca DeLuca, the Bloody Princess.

I noticed Bianca held no tact as she pulled open the pillowcase and peeked inside. She didn’t see it right away, but immediately she knew something was off. She kept her arms out of the case, refusing to dig into it due to her white clothing, so instead she simply took her time in staring at the heads inside.

And then, just like that, she realized it: “You lie.”

“I didn’t lie,” I spoke slowly, watching as the woman straightened out behind me. The wonderful thing about reflections in glass—she had no idea I was watching her. Bianca probably just thought I was gazing outside. “I never said the heads belonged to them. You just assumed.” In the glass, I saw her drop the end of the pillowcase and reach behind her, presumably for a gun.

A pity, because knives were so much more fun, as she was certainly well aware of.

“And you know what they say about assuming.” Before Bianca could pull the gun out, I spun around, kicking her hard in the stomach and sending her stumbling back. She got the gun out, yes, but with the extra few seconds my kick afforded me, I grabbed the wrist near the gun and stopped her from pointing it at me. She wasn’t overly muscled. It wasn’t too hard. “It makes an ass out of you and me,” I finished, punching her square in the face, stunning her enough that I was able to get the gun out of her grip.

“You,” she spat, “traitorous bitch—”

I let her go, let her stumble back and swipe at her nose—which was already bleeding pretty heavily after my punch. I might’ve heard a crack, but my adrenaline was pumping too much for me to pay attention.

I looked at the gun for a few seconds, knowing I could shoot her and end it all. I could put an end to this right here and now… but that would be too easy, and not nearly as fun as beating the shit out of her.

So instead of using the gun, I tossed it aside and barreled toward her, body-slamming her to the ground right next to the bloody sack. Bianca let out a grunt, but now that she knew she was in for a fight, now that I no longer had surprise on my side, she was more of an opponent.

The door to the sitting room flew open, and the driver stood there, holding a gun, and he instantly trained it on me.

“No!” Bianca shouted, startling the man into submission. “I’m going to kill this bitch. Don’t you fucking interfere!” She hardly sounded like the princess she pretended to be; she sounded like one of us, the people who rolled around in the dirt and the blood every single day of their lives. When the man didn’t lower his gun, she added, “Leave us!”

Ordering him to go, as I wrapped my hands around her neck and started choking her. Not too smart, but I’ll take it.

The man looked as if he wanted to disobey her, but in the end, he lowered his gun and disappeared, leaving us alone in our scuffle, as it should be.

Bianca bared her teeth, and she brought a fist to my side, hitting me someplace that hurt. It wasn’t enough to stop me from choking her, but it was enough for me to loosen my grip a tad, enough that she was able to flip our positions by rolling us, now the one on top straddling me.

Her blonde hair had started to fall out of whatever clip had held it in place, stray tendrils flying in every direction. Her dark eyes narrowed down at me, and she clawed at my mask, hissing, “I’m going to kill you. I know I said I would make your life torture, but I think I’ll save myself the trouble of dealing with you forever and kill you right here.” She tore my mask off, tossing it to the side. The metal skidded to a stop on the carpet, too far out of reach to be of any use.

At least now she could see my smile. She hit me in the face with a fist, and I laughed. “That’s the thing, Bianca,” I whispered, grabbing her hair with both hands and forcing her face down to mine. She hit me again, this time in the chest, but I didn’t let her go; I held her close as I finished, “I died years ago, and the person you see now isn’t afraid of death or torture or whatever hell you imagine. I’ve been there and back.” My fingers tightened in her hair enough to start pulling the strands out, and her face twisted in pain. “I’ve seen the devil’s face and laughed while I killed him.”

I finished my little speech with a wicked headbutt, slamming my forehead against hers so hard I saw stars. I let go of her, throwing her off me, hopping to my feet and kicking her chest before she could get up.

We were not evenly matched. Bianca was the Bloody Princess, a woman who was used to having her victims tied up and motionless, unable to fight back. Me? Every hunt I went on was spontaneous, always running the risk of my prey either escaping or injuring me in return. Plus, being in pain didn’t really faze me, meanwhile Bianca still couldn’t see straight after that monstrous headbutt.

Bianca knew I had her. She knew if we continued like this, I’d best her—and that was why the bitch ran for her gun, which I’d tossed onto the other side of the room.

Fine. She could go for the gun. I had all I needed right here.

She had to run around the furniture to reach it, and that took time, whereas all I had to do was grab the pillowcase and pull out a head. Line ‘em up and knock ‘em down. Like dominos. Or bowling. Except, you know, I’d never done either, so…

I whipped the head as hard as I could at her, aiming for her legs. Bianca wasn’t expecting it, and she was too intent on reaching the gun that she wasn’t even looking in my direction, as if she thought I wasn’t a threat without a gun or a knife. Bless her heart; she thought I didn’t have anything to stop her, but I sure showed her.

The head hit the back of her knees, blood splattering on her white pants, and she toppled over, letting out a loud oof. I sprang into action, grabbing the head before she could hurry to get up and kneeling on her back. Holding onto the head’s short hair, I hit the back of her head with it.

“That’s for telling me to kill Maddox and Sylvester,” I said. Hitting her again, harder this time, slamming her face down onto the floor, I added, “And that’s for having Tony get me involved in all this.” Again, with the severed head-hitting. It was quite fun, actually, for with every hit of the head, her face slammed down on the carpet.

I got off her back, rolling her to her front, and I slapped that bitch’s face with the severed head just for kicks, because I knew she didn’t like to get dirty. You didn’t get much dirtier than a severed fucking head.

“And this,” I spoke through my teeth, grinning as wildly as I could as I dropped the head and took hold of her throat in my hands, nails digging into her flesh so hard they pierced the skin. “This is for threatening me, you pompous, arrogant, conceited as fuck bitch.” My fingers dug as deep as they could go, and her eyes widened as she cried out.

She fought me, oh, she fought me as hard as she could, but it was too late, for as I said it, my fingers in her throat clenched, and I twisted and dug deeper. Her hands found my wrists, but she couldn’t pull me out. Blood oozed out of her in the numerous wounds, and I felt my nails scrape gooey warmth inside her throat as they moved.

She gargled, she screamed, she coughed, but Bianca could not stop me from doing what I was about to do.

“This city,” I whispered, “it isn’t big enough for the both of us. I think it’s time the reign of the Bloody Princess ends, don’t you?” Before she could say anything else, I ripped my hands back, taking as much flesh with them as I could. I literally tore the bitch’s throat open with my bare hands.

How fucking cool was that?

I laughed as Bianca gasped, as I got off her, still holding onto a large piece of her throat, my hands coated in red. The wound on her neck was not one she’d get over, not one she could pop a bandage on and move on from.

Bianca tried to get up, but she didn’t have enough strength. She ended up falling to her knees before me, reaching for the piece of her throat I held onto, as if she wanted it. Like she thought I could put it back on or something. One of her hands held onto her throat, blood oozing steadily between her fingers. She attempted to speak, but all that came out was a liquid-y sound.

I did not take my eyes off her. I stood there, waiting, until she collapsed on her chest, legs splayed behind her, and even then, I didn’t move right away. I let her bleed out onto the carpet a bit, made sure I stared at her upper back for a while to make sure she wasn’t breathing.

Bianca DeLuca was dead.

My eyes fell to the chunk of throat I held onto, and I grinned as I let it fall to the floor, rubbing my fingers together. I would literally never tire of blood. Bianca might’ve been the Bloody Princess, but I was the Bloody Queen, the only piece remaining on this chessboard.

I found my mask and put it on, rubbing some of Bianca’s blood onto its shaped teeth, and then I squared my shoulders and readied myself for what was to come. Walking out that door with Bianca dead, I might meet my death. My body might meet its end at the hands of a hundred bullets, shot from multiple guns from multiple people, all because I’d killed their leader.

Or not. Guess I had to go out there and find out which one it would be.

I flipped my hair over my shoulder, stepping over Bianca’s lifeless corpse as I made my way to the door. I pushed out, finding that the driver and a few others had gathered, all holding onto their guns like the metal was their dicks or something. I cocked my head at them, waiting for them to shoot me.

But… they didn’t. They simply stared at me with wide eyes, and the ones who’d gathered after the driver had come in and nearly shot me glanced to him, as if they looked to him to lead them in this moment.

No one said anything for the longest time. We were only capable of staring at each other, the silence of the big house around us eternal. A house like this… seemed like it would go to waste if only Bianca was living in it, with an underling or two.

That’s one of the things I never understood about houses as large as this. So many rooms, so much empty space, for what? What were you saving all that space for?

“The Bloody Princess is dead,” I spoke, breaking the silence, though I did not break our staring contest. If I was to die here, I would look death in the eye and smile. If ever there was someone who would walk willingly into hell, it was me. Knowing what I’d done, what I would continue to do if I was left alive… oh, heaven was no place for a thing like me.

The men standing across from me still didn’t move, nor did they shoot me. The small victories, I supposed.

“Now,” I went on, “unless you’re going to put a dozen bullets into my body, I suggest you let me walk out of here. This gal’s got someplace to be.” Or, technically, some people to catch up with and a story to tell.

Bianca DeLuca was dead. I still couldn’t believe it, and yet it was her blood dripping from my fingernails.

When no one said anything, I took a step away, never breaking eye contact. I wouldn’t put it past them to try to shoot me in the back or something. What a way to go, huh? Being shot in the back. The absolute disrespect.

But they didn’t shoot me.

One of them did glance at the driver and ask, “What do we do now?”

Since the driver seemed to be at a loss for words, I chimed in, “You make your way in the world how you want to… or you find someone else to follow. It’s up to you.” And then, with my shoulders squared and my head held high, with my hands covered in fresh blood, I walked out of that mansion, grinning beneath my mask.

At the time, I never expected to ever set foot in that house again, but I’d soon find out I was wrong on that count. When things changed, well, they tended to, you know, actually change. The change that swept over the city was quiet and subtle if you weren’t paying attention, but for those of us that were…

Let’s say the fun was just getting started.

Chapter Thirteen – Lola

My dreams were nothing but blackness, but I’d take that over the suffocating ones I used to have. They no longer kept me in a fitful sleep at night, nor did I wake up with a rapidly-beating heart and feel like clawing my own skin off.

I was trying to turn a new leaf, at least where that was concerned. No more Lola Harding. I was someone much more important now.

A while ago, I’d killed Bianca DeLuca, ended the Bloody Princess’s reign… but it seemed this city hadn’t quite had enough of me yet. I wasn’t shot when I left the DeLuca house, and I had been giddy as a school girl when I went back to the bar, where my guys had been waiting. When I told them the good news, well… what happened next was a bit bloody, a tad psychotic, and a whole lot sexy.

And, the funny thing had been, that guy was still sitting in the back of the bar, drinking his sorrows away, completely unaware of the orgy taking place near all the corpses.

Later that night, Roman and Carter crashed a poker game, and made sure to put a bullet in the head of anyone there, even if they weren’t necessarily involved in shooting up the Dollhouse. Couldn’t let any of them live, no one who hurt us. We would find the remaining man who’d shot up Mike and Viper someday, but for a while, we let ourselves revel in our victory.

We’d met Roman and Carter back at the cabin that night, and when we shared our good news—that Bianca was no more—everyone was happy. Everyone except, as it turned out, Daddy Luciano, but that was because he’d got it in his head he was done with the games. I would never understand why anyone could ever be done with them; the games were fun, and they made me feel alive. An addicting feeling, let me tell you.

Things had changed since that night all those weeks ago, but I found myself loving where we were. I wouldn’t change anything.

I lay in bed, breathing deeply, and I rolled onto my side, setting an arm on the tattooed body next to me. My eyelids peeked open, and I raked my gaze down Viper’s bare chest, taking in all his snake tattoos. The sheet hung just above his privates, blocking my view of his cock, but that was fine. Every morning didn’t need to start with sex.

A lot of them did, which was quite fun, but today was set to be a busy day.

Quietly, I got out of bed, tiptoeing across the hall to the bathroom. The big house was quiet; some would say too quiet, but I liked it. It helped me relax. I went into the bathroom that, frankly, I still wasn’t used to—the style of this house was gaudier than the Luciano’s, which wasn’t really my thing, but eh, I’d learn to deal.

Already naked, all I had to do was turn the water on in the walk-in shower and step inside. The water pelted my back, the top of my head, its clear liquid coursing down my body. I breathed in the hot air, humming to myself.

The Night Slayer had her own abode now. Granted, it used to belong to the DeLucas, but now that they were all gone, it was mine. Sylvester and Maddox had to flash their name and their money around to get the deed put in my name, but everything in this town was doable, as long as you had the green to back it up.

And they did. They most certainly did, especially since they were now the ones in charge.

Well, them and me.

I had been right when I’d thought there was a vacancy after Bianca’s death. Never thought I’d be the one to fill it, but I guess that just went to show you that princesses were so last year and serial killers were all the rage.

I heard the bathroom door open, someone slipping inside. Within the next moment, Viper’s head poked around the glass door, his hazel eyes giving me an appreciative once-over before he stepped in. “I hope you don’t mind that I join you,” he said, the ends of his mouth quirking into a smirk.

He’d been in a good mood ever since I invited him and his brother to move in. Mike hadn’t wanted to, but since their apartment had been riddled with bullet holes, it didn’t take much convincing on Viper’s part.

“Of course not,” I spoke. Maybe I would get some morning sex after all. Shower sex wasn’t exactly the same as morning sex, but it was still hot. I’d take it anywhere I could get it.

Funny, you’d think with a steady three boyfriends, I’d be tired of sex by now, but I wasn’t. Sex was great, and when you had men you would die for without any hesitation, the sex was even better. Wild and passionate, no holds barred. I lived a life not many could, and I loved it.

Viper’s hands found my sides, and in the next moment, my back was to the tiled wall. A chill swept up my spine, but I knew soon enough I’d get warmed up. Viper was good at that. Lips curling into a devilish smirk, Viper dropped to his knees before me, the water now hitting his head as his hands helped to spread my thighs.

I shut my eyes the moment I felt that tongue lap at me, and I let out a low moan when he started to suck on my clit. When I was naked, it was like no one ever saw the scar on my belly anymore, and that was nice. The guys had given me a good scolding for thinking that they’d abandon me after everything was said and done, and sometimes they still needed to remind me that they weren’t going to let me go.

It was nice. It was so fucking nice. They were everything I ever needed and more, and now with Richard gone, they wouldn’t be pressured to kill me. You know, since I was only here because I’d killed their brother.

God, time could change everything. Time did change everything, and that was the miracle of it.

My hips started grinding against Viper’s face, and his fingers dug in deeper into my thighs. My blood ran hot, and I felt the wave of pleasure building almost immediately. Viper was damn good with his mouth, let’s just say.

When my orgasm came, I cried out, the muscles in my body tightening as my hips bucked of their own accord, and Viper pulled his face away, smiling up at me. In the next moment, he was on his feet, stroking his hard cock, and within a blink, he pushed inside of me.

This, I thought as I wrapped my arms around his neck and held him close, this is the life. I wouldn’t change any of this for the world. I’d accidentally stumbled upon where I belonged, and now I would fight tooth and nail to keep it. To keep them.

They were mine, and they always would be.

Viper’s moans filled the air of the shower, and I focused on the feeling of his body pinning mine back, the way his cock felt buried deep inside of me. Like he was taking charge, taking what he wanted from me. A far-cry from the Viper he was when we’d first met, always keeping himself from me, never wanting to cross the line.

Again, funny how things changed.

Now was not the time for a never-ending sex session, so when Viper’s body started to tremble, I kissed his neck, sucking and nipping, helping to further him along. The most husky, sexy sound came from his lungs when he erupted inside of me, filling me up with cum.

Another good thing about shower sex: easy clean-up. Even though, usually, I wasn’t the kind of gal who cared about cleaning up after a messy fuck.

He stayed buried in me for a few seconds, and then pulled out. Viper and I hurried to rinse off, and he got out before I did. Having long hair took a bit more work in the shower—I was trying to grow it out, so I’d been using some deep conditioner. Plus, I didn’t think blood was too good for the tips, and I was never one to tie my hair back before going batshit on someone.

By the time I got dressed, Viper was already out of the bedroom. Men had it so easy when it came to getting ready for the day. I chose a pair of sleek black pants, along with four-inch killer heels, pairing it with a dark red blouse.

I know. A blouse. It was kind of funny; in a way, these clothes were the type of clothes my parents always wanted me in. That and dresses—ew. But I found the red and black combo suited me. Not many people could pull it off; so many idiots out there tried to look intimidating but failed more often than not. Me, on the other hand? I didn’t need to try. I simply was.

The first thing I’d done when getting this house was to throw out everything of Bianca’s. All of her clothes, all of her pictures… basically, everything that had a teeny, tiny bit of sentimental value was gone. I didn’t need that shit. I’d fill this house with my own memories.

Mike was in the kitchen, sipping coffee. He’d healed up pretty good, though he hadn’t gone out with us yet. He was still a little slow, but his reaction time would come back soon. He, at least, didn’t walk like he was on death’s door anymore. His long brown hair was pulled back in a low, loose pony, his lumberjack frame wearing a tight black t-shirt.

Viper was beside him, wearing all black, making a bagel, and when he saw me, he asked, “Do you want anything?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m good.” Out of all of the meals of the day, breakfast was my least favorite. The only saving grace was bacon, and this morning was not a bacon kind of morning, unfortunately.

Not saying today was going to be bad. It was just going to be interesting.

“You know,” I started, leaning on the large island in the kitchen. “You guys don’t have to come with me. I’m more than capable—”

Mike said nothing, though he did narrow his stare at me. Viper, on the other hand, immediately shot me down by saying, “Anywhere you go, we go.”

Ah, yes. Because after what I did to Bianca, there were surely some people out there who wanted to see me dead, to pay for what I’d done. Always had to be on guard, but that’s what today was about. Visiting the normal hangouts. Introducing myself. Making it known that I was a girl who could handle myself, and I had a whole host of psychos at my back, ready to protect me should I fail to do it myself.

Hmm. I couldn’t wait to see that Mina chick again. I bet she’d shit her pants when she saw me again. She might still want to fight me for Maddox, but you didn’t fight me now unless you were willing to die for whatever it was you stood for—and color me psychic, but I didn’t think Mina would die for the chance to be with Maddox again.

As if on cue, the doorbell to the house rang, and we exchanged glances.

Mike set down his coffee, muttering, “I’ll get it.” As he went, he reached beneath his shirt and pulled out the gun he had tucked between his pants and skin.

I didn’t hear any gunshots after the door was opened, so I figured I knew who it was, and when Mike reappeared with the man himself in tow, I gave him a smile. “Harvey,” I said, addressing the man who had, at one time, been Bianca’s driver. A man who almost killed me when she and I were in the middle of our scuffle. “What are you doing here?”

Harvey glanced to Mike and Viper, looking just a tad uncomfortable near them. He was a younger man, around their age, in his early thirties. He wasn’t sleazy or rude or even mean; I liked him. It’s why I kept him around.

Plus he never looked at me like he wanted to fuck me, and that was rare in a man.

“I know you have a busy day ahead of you,” Harvey spoke, doing his best to ignore the glares he received from the twins—Viper and Mike still didn’t trust him. “I figured I’d offer you my services for today.”

“I told you,” I said, “you don’t have to drive me around like you did for her.” I’d learned it was best not to use Bianca’s name out loud unless I had to.

Harvey nodded. “I know, but… it isn’t like I have anything else planned for today.”

I knew arguing with him would get me nowhere. He was a nice guy, but stubborn as all hell. So, I simply said, “Fine, but that means you’re carting these assholes around, too.” I flicked a thumb towards Viper and Mike, and my choice of words earned myself scowls from each of them, which made me chuckle.

Fifteen minutes later, we were ready to go.

The Luciano house was just as I remembered it from the last time I was there, which, granted, wasn’t too long ago, since I made it a habit of seeing Sylvester and Maddox anytime I could. That’s the thing about not having a nine-to-five job: you could do whatever you wanted whenever you wanted, and there was no one to stop you.

The money they’d inherited made it easier, of course, kind of like me. Along with Bianca’s house, I got all the DeLuca money. Felt wrong somehow, like I was right back in Lionsgrove where I’d started, but I wasn’t. This place was so different and so much better.

I found Sylvester in his father’s office—or, well, technically it was his office now, since his father wasn’t here. I knocked on the door, even though it was open, before stepping inside. Sylvester sat on the high-backed leather chair I’d seen Richard in a few times, looking quite stressed out. A bunch of papers sat before him, scattered on the desk, his blonde hair sticking every which way, as if he’d woken up and gotten straight to work.

He wore bedhead well, the bastard.

Maddox was somewhere else in the house, and I’d sent Viper and Mike to find him. Harvey waited in the car for us; there was no way in hell he’d ever step foot in this house. Maddox and Sylvester didn’t trust him either, which was fine.

When I knocked, Sylvester’s blue eyes glanced up, and his face lit up the moment he saw me. “There you are,” he said, immediately standing and walking around the desk to greet me. He swept me into his arms and planted his mouth on mine, kissing me hard and fast and hungrily. It was a kiss that stole all the air from my lungs and more, and after he pulled back, I was already panting like a bitch in heat.

That’s how much these guys affected me. I hoped that feeling never went away.

“How are you?” he whispered. “Ready for today? If you’re not, we can push it off—” He didn’t completely let go of me; his hands still hung on my hips, our bodies leaning against each other’s.

“No,” I spoke with a shake of my head. “We’ve already pushed it off enough. It’s time to show this city who’s taking up the Bloody Princess’s mantle.”

With a sigh, he took a step back and said, “You’re probably right.” Sylvester turned his back to me, facing the desk. He set both palms on it, leaning over it, and I moved beside him, staring at all the papers. “I don’t know how my father did it,” he mumbled. “So much is going on all the time, and all the blackmailing—is that really how we kept up our fortune? I don’t know if I want to continue down that path. Seems to be a good way to get people to turn on you the first chance they get.”

Ah, and that was something the Lucianos knew all too well. Sylvester was probably right; if he had any hope of salvaging the Luciano legacy, things had to begin anew.

Speaking of… “Have you talked to your father?” I asked, leaning my ass on the edge of the desk.

He looked at me, and I knew the answer before he said it. “No. He asked for time, so I’m giving it to him.”

“Fuck that,” another deep, masculine voice spoke from the doorway, and I looked up to see Maddox standing there.

Grinning, I slid off the desk and sauntered over to him, rubbing myself against him like a cat. He took hold of my throat, fingers curling around my neck, and his mouth crashed to mine for only a split-second, enough to give me a taste of his heat and passion, enough to make me want more.

“He never should’ve left,” Maddox finished after letting me go. “You don’t just… leave. That’s not how things are fucking done.” Unlike his brother, Maddox held some rage over their father’s exit.

“He’s a grown man and can do whatever he wants,” Sylvester told him, not for the first time. And, I’d bet anything, it wouldn’t be the last time he had to say something like that, either. “Let’s not talk about him right now. Today is about Lola.”

“Oh, yes,” Maddox spoke, rolling his dark eyes. He wore a long-sleeved shirt, its sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the black, intricate tattoos on his light skin. He’d gotten his hair cut—the side of his head that had grown out, anyway. Now it hung only a few inches long, whereas the side he used to shave he’d let grow out a bit. Once his hair was a uniform length, he’d hardly look like Mad Maddox.

But, I think, that was the point. He and Sylvester were now the Lucianos. He had to take some responsibility for that, even if he didn’t want to.

“Today is all about Lola,” Maddox said, eyes dropping to my feet and checking me out as they traveled back up. The cut I’d landed on his face in that hotel room all that time ago had healed, not even a scar in its place. “I can’t wait for someone to try to make a move on you. I’ll fucking rip them apart limb by limb—”

I pressed a finger upon his lips, smirking. “Now, if anyone’s going to do some killing, it’s me. The city needs to know just who I am.”

Maddox tore his face away from my finger, glaring at me as Sylvester spoke, “And the fact that you literally tore off Bianca’s throat won’t be enough?”

Ah, yes. My feat of besting Bianca had gotten around. It was kind of funny to hear it through the grapevine. Apparently, me tearing off a woman’s throat was not something this city had ever heard of.

I mean, if it took fear to make people fall back in line, then that’s how this would go. I didn’t want to be like Bianca, to kill anyone and everyone who I thought was weak, but I would not hesitate to kill those who went against me or my men. I wouldn’t stop killing the sleazy men who deserved it. My hands would only get bloodier as the years wore on.

The Lucianos and the new leader of the DeLuca empire? We were working together now, and we would remain that way forever. A new chapter was turning on this city, and those that fought it were in for a harsh awakening.

We spent the day visiting a lot of people. Some were finally happy to put a face to the name, while others could barely hide their disdain toward me. But that was fine—I didn’t care if they hated me. As long as they didn’t try anything, we’d be cool. What was really fun was stopping by the Castello house and meeting with that family. Let’s just say Mina’s parents were very welcoming, unlike the girl herself.

Couldn’t blame her, since I flaunted Maddox right in front of her.

What could I say? I was still the spiteful bitch I was before. That much wouldn’t change about me.

The hours blended in together, and I grew tired of it all. I’d brought my mask, and I wore it around my neck during each meeting. Sylvester had gotten Fang to create a chain that hooked from both its sides, a chain that allowed me to wear the mask over my tits like an oversized necklace.

Night eventually fell, and we were headed to our last stop. Harvey, Viper, Mike and I drove in one car while Maddox and Sylvester drove in another. We were headed to a place where Bianca’s name used to pull a lot of weight, a place where I had been forced to put on a show and sing like a dancing monkey.

The Gilded Rose.

Harvey parked on the sidewalk, not caring about traffic laws, and I was the first to get out, stretching my legs, limbering up. If anywhere was going to be a problem, it would be here. Newton, the manager of the place, was a hardcore DeLuca loyalist. We’d see what he’d do tonight.

Once the others were out of the car, I led us to the bouncer at the front. The bouncer was expecting us, so he took one look at me and stepped aside.

The Gilded Rose was as I remembered: full of golden things, glass everywhere, a stage front and center surrounded by tables where the patrons would sit. Tonight, though, there was no one. No one but Newton, who was waiting for us.

Well, Newton and his men, burly guys who looked like they could handle themselves in a fight.

Newton met us halfway, his men standing by near the bar, in case anything should go wrong here. He wore a tan suit tonight, his blonde hair slicked back, brown eyes taking in the mask on my chest instantly. “I’ve been anxiously awaiting your presence all day, Lola Harding,” he spoke, offering me his hand. “Or, should I say, Dolly Queen.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” I said, giving him my hand all the same. I did not want to bring Carter in here tonight; not after everything that happened. That hothead might just shoot the place up, even though everyone who’d shot up the Dollhouse was dead. It’s partially why I told Roman and Carter to take some time away from the city with Zoey. Let us handle things for a while.

Newton smirked, took my hand in his and, instead of shaking it, bent his head down and kissed it.

Right. Like I was the new princess of town or something.

I could feel my men bristling behind me, and I resisted the urge to wipe my hand off once Newton let it go. “Whatever formality you had with Bianca, you can let it go,” I said. “I’m not like her.”

“Clearly,” he said. “For you’re the one still standing. From what I hear, you toppled the Bloody Princess yourself.” His dark gaze took in Maddox and Sylvester, along with Viper and Mike. “And you are helping to usher in a new era in this city. I’d have to be a fool not to see it.”

Maybe tonight wouldn’t go so horribly wrong after all, then. I admit, I didn’t think Newton would see it like that.

“Whatever empire you’re building,” Newton paused, standing tall as he held his hands behind his back, “I want to be a part of it.”

He was the first person today to say something like that, and I found myself interested but not overly so. “And why should you be?” I questioned. “You were not terrible to me, true, but you were a part of this. You made me perform for your guests.” And you brought me to Tony, but I couldn’t say that part, because mentioning Tony would only make myself and my guys think about what that motherfucker did.

I’d finally come clean to them, after Bianca was dead. I’d told them what exactly Tony and I got up to in the Gilded Rose’s office, that I had no weapons, that I’d known it was pointless to fight. I didn’t know, even to this day, if I’d call it rape, but it was definitely not on the consensual side. After everything Tony did, after involving me in a war—after I’d realized I was in love with the Lucianos and Viper—I wasn’t giving it away anymore, so it wasn’t his to take.

Oh, they’d been furious. Furious at Tony, upset at me for keeping it to myself for so long, but what could I have done? Telling them before the calm had settled wouldn’t have helped us. The past few weeks, they’d started to look for him, but anyone with half a brain would skedaddle if they were Tony.

Because now that I was the new face of the DeLuca empire, I could kill whoever the fuck I wanted with no repercussions, Night Slayer or not.

“I did,” Newton admitted. “At first, I didn’t know who you were, but when I found out, I was more than a little curious. Plus, you have one of the most beautiful singing voices I’ve ever heard.”

Such words might be a compliment to other girls, but to me? To me they were the opposite.

“Now, of course I’m not asking you to include me in anything on mere goodwill,” Newton said. “So I had my boys search high and low the moment I heard you offed Ms. DeLuca. I think you’ll find a partnership between us can be very beneficial for both of us.”

I narrowed my gaze, still unsure what this guy was talking about.

He started walking away, gesturing for us to follow. “Come to my office. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

Glancing to Sylvester, I waited for a sign, if we should go with him or not. His armed men didn’t seem to be following him, which confused me to no end. All Sylvester did was shrug, and I thought, very helpful, thanks.

In the end, I trailed after Newton, Maddox and Sylvester behind me while Viper and Mike stayed downstairs with Newton’s men.

Up the stairs we went, and I pushed out the memories that threatened to surface of that night, the night everything had gone to shit. Tony, meeting Bianca for the first time, wondering if Viper and Mike were dead because of me… my brother. That night was not a night I ever wanted to remember.

We arrived on the landing just before the door to the office, and Newton was the first who pushed in, me seconds behind him.

And then I saw the body lying in the middle of the floor, tied up and gagged, and I smiled. I smiled so widely my cheeks started to hurt, and behind me, Maddox and Sylvester could hardly contain their shock.

“How—” Sylvester started. “We’ve been looking for him for weeks.”

“Ah,” Newton spoke with a shrug, “sorry about that. I suppose I could’ve let you know sooner, but I figured you’d be making the rounds soon enough.” He glanced down at the unconscious body. “I actually heard you were looking for him, so I tried to find him first.”

Right. Because he made a good bargaining chip indeed.

Who, you ask, was laying on the floor, looking quite worse for wear? Tony Torio himself.

Of course, Tony looked thinner than I remembered, probably because Newton had him locked up somewhere and hardly fed, but that was more than alright with me. Lock him up in the dark where he could never escape for all I cared.

“I think,” I spoke after a while, “you and I can work something out, Newton.”

Newton gave me a smile that told me that was all he’d wanted, and I did not take my eyes off the still figure lying below.

“Pack him up,” I told Maddox and Sylvester. “I have something in mind for him.” My men were all too happy to drag Tony’s still frame out of the room, and now that I was alone with Newton, I gave him a grin. “I look forward to doing more business with you.”

“And I with you,” he said.

I pretended not to notice how intently he stared at me as I walked away, mostly because my brain was too focused on Tony and what I was about to do to him. The poor, unwitting fool had no idea what monster he’d let loose that night.

The industrial part of town was a favorite of mine. It was like stepping into another time, everything dirty and abandoned, unused for years. Not sure what they used to make in all these warehouses so close to the river, but I didn’t rightly care. There was no surveillance, thus it was one of the best places in town to get rid of your dirty laundry.

My dirty laundry? Tonight it was none other than Tony Torio.

I still couldn’t believe Newton had found him, kept him locked up for weeks, all hoping to use him to get my favor. Not gonna lie, it worked; I was beyond thrilled to have this motherfucker in my grasp. The vengeance I would wreak upon him would be hellish, to say the least.

Tony wouldn’t know what hit him.

The moon hung low in the sky, its silver sphere almost full tonight, illuminating everything in an eerie, ethereal glow. Since all the warehouses around us were abandoned and forgotten as time went on, there were no lights, no electricity, other than the beams of headlights from our vehicles.

Maddox and Sylvester stood behind me, Tony’s unconscious body laying before me. We stood in the yellow beams coming from our car while Viper and Mike went searching for some things I’d need to do this. Didn’t come prepared, you see. If I would’ve known Newton would have such a present for me, I would’ve had this planned out better.

Alas, we had to deal with him tonight, for I could not stand the thought of Tony living to see another day.

I stared at his still form, hatred boiling inside of me. With Bianca gone, all of my hatred had moved to this man, to what he’d done and how he’d thought he would get away with it. He wouldn’t. I would be his judge, his jury, and his executioner tonight.

The sound of the river coursing not far from us filled my ears, and I tore my gaze away to stare at it. The river didn’t cut through the city, but it did course around its lower edge, and it flowed away, taking the city’s pollution and filth with it. The concrete street between warehouses we were on dead-ended onto the river; right now, we were about ten feet above its rushing waters.

Drowning… must be a horrible fate, especially when there was nothing you could do to save yourself, and you knew it.

Viper came back with a metal bucket, and he set it down near his feet. The bucket was full of water, and hopefully it would be enough to wake the asshole up. I wanted him awake and alert, as much as he could be, while I finished him off.

“What’re you going to do with him?” Sylvester asked. He’d kept silent during the drive here, up until now. He dared not stop me, though, for if I did not make Tony pay for what he’d done, he would be more than glad to do it himself.

Same with Maddox, who folded his arms over his chest and scowled at the unconscious body. “Fuck him. I say we tie weights to his feet and toss him into the river, let the fish eat his corpse.”

That was not too dissimilar to the idea in my own head, however my plan did not involve weights of any kind.

“The fish will get their meal,” I whispered, “after I get my blood.” My mask sat on my chest, and I itched with the need to pull it up and put it on.

It was that moment when Mike returned, carrying a foot-long, rusted thing that might be called a blade if you used your imagination to its fullest. Whatever it was had been salvaged from the surrounding warehouses. No idea what it was originally, but it didn’t matter. It would serve its new purpose tonight.

“Will this work?” Mike asked, offering it to me. “It was all I could find.”

I nodded, taking it from him, feeling its weight in my hand. All I’d sent him to find was something sharp. This would most definitely do. “Untie him,” I said. “And wake his ass up.” As Mike went to untie the restraints on Tony’s wrists and ankles and Viper readied the bucket of water, I lifted my mask and hid the bottom half of my face.

When Mike was finished untying him, he took a step back, moving to stand near Maddox and Sylvester as Viper tossed the water onto his face. Tony didn’t jerk awake like people always did in the movies, and I assumed that was due to the fact that he’d had a terrible time these last few weeks. His body was weak. He might not even survive what I had in store for him, but that didn’t matter. He would pay regardless.

Tony groaned as he reached for his face, slow to sit up and wipe at the water around his eyes. It took him an unreasonable amount of time to realize he was no longer tied up, and then he took in the fact he was no longer locked away, wherever Newton had kept him.

And then he saw me.

“Lola,” Tony spoke, sounding utterly weak and pathetic. His hair, which was normally a light brown color, was so greasy it was black, uncombed and matted on the top of his head. The green hue in his eyes was clouded over, less clear than it usually was. He looked and sounded like absolute shit, and I grinned behind my mask.

Couldn’t help it. I liked seeing him this way. If there was one thing I was all about, it was the motherfuckers like him getting their comeuppance—and tonight, Tony would get more than he could handle.

“Tony,” I spoke, swinging the rusted blade around. “Do you know why you’re here?”

He gulped, his eyes roaming to the mini-army of testosterone behind me. He did not say a word, which was probably smart of him, for nothing he could say would make it any better for him.

I knelt before him, leaning on the rusted blade as I did so. The night air blew past us, caressing my face as I said, “Don’t know if you heard, but Bianca DeLuca’s dead. I killed her. Do you want to know how?”

Tony’s jaw tensed, and it was finally dawning on him that tonight was not his night.

“I dug my nails into her neck and tore her throat off,” I told him, laughing as I did so. “It was something else, trust me. I never knew something like that was possible. Did you?” I didn’t give him a chance to answer that time, standing as I swung the rusted blade at him, catching him on his cheek. He fell back, and then the bastard tried crawling away from me.

Yes, crawling, like an insect. But that’s because it’s exactly what he was: a worthless thing not fit to stain the underside of my heel.

“Hold him,” I ordered. “I want his hands.”

Mike and Viper went to grab him, dragging Tony back to me. He tried to struggle now, but he was far too weak. Even Mike, who was shot to hell weeks ago, was worlds stronger than Tony. Tony was bone-thin and weak as a newborn kitten. Viper and Mike were on either side of him, both men grabbing an arm and forcing his hands toward me, Tony’s face on the concrete pavement below.

“You know,” I started, “I’m trying not to take enjoyment out of this, but who am I kidding? I’m going to love sawing off your hands and throwing you out like trash, because that’s what you are, Tony. You’re trash. You’re nothing.” I knelt before him again, using my free hand to grab his face and tilt his neck up toward me. An odd angle that had to hurt, but I didn’t care. “Look at my face,” I instructed. “Memorize it. It’ll be the last thing you see.”

I said nothing more as I released him, setting the jagged edge of the long blade against the top of his left wrist, the one Viper was holding, and then I put all of my weight behind it. The blade cut into his flesh, blood squirting from the wound, and Tony screamed. He screamed like a frightened little fuck, and I kept going. I kept digging, kept cutting. I did not stop until I felt the rusted metal cleave through the bone in his wrist.

I could not wipe the smile from my face—not as if anyone saw it behind the mask—as I lifted the metal blade and grabbed Tony’s severed hand. Some of the skin on the bottom was still attached, but with a good pull on my part, the skin snapped apart like a taut rubber band.

After tossing the hand to Maddox, who caught it with a scowl, I got to work on the other one. Tony, meanwhile, had nearly passed out, a blubbering mess of pain. This hand I tossed to Sylvester. One for each of them. Made it even, at least.

I got to my feet, taking a step away from Tony’s still form. He was alive, but barely. The concrete beneath his wrists had pools of blood, the newly-spilled blood reflecting the moon’s light. “Bring him to the edge,” I said, moving toward the river myself.

As the guys dragged Tony, I heaved a sigh and tossed the rusted metal blade into the rushing water. Viper dropped Tony beside me, and I bent down, fingernails digging into his filthy, grimy shirt. Even though he could not hear me, I found myself whispering, “You never should’ve put your hands on me that night, Tony.” And then, saying nothing more, I pushed his body into the water, hearing it splash and watching it submerge immediately.

His body floated facedown, and for a few seconds, I watched him float away in the current.

And then I remembered: his hands.

“Oh, yeah,” I said, grabbing the hands from Maddox and Sylvester, “almost forgot these.” With a chuckle, I tossed them into the river after him.

I stood there, with Mike and Viper on my left, Maddox and Sylvester on my right, for a good long while, long after I could no longer see Tony’s body floating away, until everything blended into the darkness of the night. With Tony gone, with Bianca and my brother dealt with, it certainly was a new chapter, not only of this city, but of my life.

Where would it lead? Would I be happy? Would I always have these guys by my side? I certainly hoped so. Time had a way of changing things, sometimes for the worse, but sometimes for the better. Regardless of where life took us next, I knew one thing was for certain.

My name was Lola Harding, the Night Slayer, the Bloody Queen, and I was only just getting started.

Dear reader,

How ‘bout that end, huh?

If you liked it, please leave a review. Reviews help books gain traction on Amazon, and any sharing you can do in book groups also gives books life! Seriously, we can talk about our own books all we want, but it means so much more when readers share it themselves.

And please let me know if you’d ever read future books with Lola and her men, because I’d love to stay in this world for a while. I might have some future ideas in my head…

Don’t miss out on my next dark series, The Desecration of Innocence, featuring Markus Scott, a character who’s appeared in numerous series of mine. Book one, Cruel Control, comes out June 1st, and you can find it here.

My Facebook Group: Candace’s Cult of Captivation where you can get all the updates on new releases! https://www.facebook.com/groups/234452154135994/

My linktree, where you can find me on all of the sites: https://linktr.ee/candacewondrak

Table of Contents

Chapter One – Lola

Chapter Two – Lola

Chapter Three – Sylvester

Chapter Four – Lola

Chapter Five – Viper

Chapter Six – Lola

Chapter Seven – Maddox

Chapter Eight – Lola

Chapter Nine – Viper

Chapter Ten – Lola

Chapter Eleven – Lola

Chapter Twelve – Lola

Chapter Thirteen – Lola