Crooked Heart

A Death So Sweet: Book Two

Candace Wondrak

© 2021 Candace Wondrak

All Rights Reserved.

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

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Chapter One – Lola

Chapter Two – Lola

Chapter Three – Maddox

Chapter Four – Lola

Chapter Five – Lola

Chapter Six – Lola

Chapter Seven – Viper

Chapter Eight – Lola

Chapter Nine – Sylvester

Chapter Ten – Maddox

Chapter Eleven – Lola

Chapter Twelve – Lola

Chapter Thirteen – Lola

Chapter One – Lola

It was not the first time I’d sat in my room, staring at the floor. It was the first time, however, I wasn’t wondering why me? The strange thing was, I wasn’t thinking at all. My mind was a blank slate, the cold grip of dissociation taking root in my mind and my heart. That silly little heart of mine still beat… but it might as well have stopped years ago.

No one cared about me. Mother and Father had made it clear, beyond clear, that their chosen angel was their son and not their daughter. Even though I was their first child, I meant nothing to them. I was just a body, just a beautiful face they could present to society and get compliments for.

Aiden, though? Oh, they loved him. Their darling son could never do any wrong. Born a year after me, he’d grown up fast.

Too fast.

So fast that, sometimes, I caught myself wondering why I had to be born at all. Mother and Father still put pressure on me, even though it was pointless. It was all pointless. Couldn’t they see that by now?

I wore the same clothes I’d worn to school. High school. Surrounded by the people who should be like me all day, but they weren’t. They were nothing like me, because they hadn’t had their lives stolen from them. Their innocence. Their very will to live.

And Aiden? He went to the same school too, a grade below me. Really, I couldn’t ever get away from him. Not his lovable grin. Not his bright blue eyes, which were a lot like mine. I could never get away from the feeling that crept over me when we were alone—which was too often. Way too often.

I sat on my bed, eyes on the floor. I couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t hear anything. The house was quiet. Aiden was gone, with his friends, one of the only times I was free of him, but even then, everything in this house was a reminder of my dear, sweet baby brother.

A devil in disguise, he’d been born and everything had changed. The darkness swallowed this house, my parents, me… especially me. It had chewed me up and swallowed me whole, refusing to spit me out. I would never be able to reclaim what had been lost all those years ago.

Fuck. Years? Yes, it’d been years. I really tried not to think about it, but sometimes even your thoughts betrayed you.

I set a hand on my stomach, as if I could feel it through my clothes. The giant, ugly scar that was the only imperfection on my otherwise flawless body, my flesh having been peeled open and my insides scrambled. All to protect their little darling. All so he could do whatever he wanted with me with no repercussions. Nothing but me losing my sanity.

But I’d already lost that so long ago. So long, in fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I had it. Maybe I was born to lose my innocence and my naivete. Maybe I was never meant to be anything more than a plaything for my brother, something to be used by my parents.

My skin itched. My skin itched so badly I wanted to dig my nails beneath my flesh and peel it off. If I was ugly, maybe it would stop. Maybe everything would go back to the way things should’ve been. But then… they’d never really been that way to begin with, had they? Everything had always been fucked up in this family.

The Hardings. The Hardings of Lionsgrove.

What a fucking joke.

It was all a joke, wasn’t it? A joke, or maybe hell. Maybe this wasn’t life but instead a miserable hell that I would never be able to escape from. Some days I found myself wishing I would have the strength to end it all, to cut my wrists and bleed out in the tub. Some days I dreamed of escaping and leaving my family behind, never to see them again.

Tonight, though, my mind dreamed a different dream. Tonight my mind, my willpower, turned to unbreakable steel. This life was no life. I would not sit in this house until my parents or my brother killed me.

Instead, I was going to kill them. Beat them to the punch. Yes, I think I’d rather like to see them bleed out, the look in their eyes as they stared up at me, disbelief and shock written across their features. I’d stain the walls and the carpet with their blood, and I wouldn’t feel a single thing while doing it.

Sometimes having no feelings was a blessing, I guess.

I slipped off my bed, my bare feet shuffling against the fluffy carpet of my room. I pulled open my door, almost in a trance, heading down the hall. Father was in his study on the third floor, as he usually was after dinner. Mother would be lounging around, having her second glass of wine as she watched the news. They had a routine, and that routine included letting my brother do whatever the hell he wanted with me whenever the hell he wanted to.

I could not go on like this anymore. I hoped they would understand in their final moments I did not forgive them, nor would I ever. They had created the unfeeling, cold thing I was today, and this vile, vicious, crooked heart of mine would have its revenge.

They say revenge was a dish best served cold, but I wasn’t sure. I was about to find out.

Down the stairs I went, taking each step as quietly as I could, moving down to the first floor, still unable to feel the heart in my chest. I was a robot, moving mechanically, like a horse with blinders on, seeing nothing but what lay ahead of me. Into the kitchen I went, and I grabbed the sharpest, shiniest knife I could find, lifting it in front of my chest as I studied my reflection in the steel. It mirrored the light above, glimmering, whispering promises to me, promises my parents had never once given me.

The knife told me it would help me. The knife said it would do everything it could to make sure I got out of here, and then… then I had no idea what the hell I’d do. One step at a time.

The handle felt almost out of place in my palm, yet my fingers curled around it easily all the same. The tile was cold below my feet, and I turned, moving out of the kitchen and into one of the many sitting rooms in the house, the one that housed the giant, flat-screen television. Oh, we had dozens of those, practically a TV in every room, but my mother seemed to enjoy reclining on the couch in this room, her feet kicked up and wine in her hand as she listened to the local news of the day.

As if she cared. As if she cared about anything or anyone other than herself. My mother was a lying, conniving bitch, a snake through and through, and snakes get what they deserve. She would not live to see another night.

I made no sounds as I moved into the living room, stopping behind the couch. It sat, not against any wall, which allowed me to approach her from behind without being seen. My lungs breathed evenly. I had no nerves to speak of, no angel on my shoulder telling me I shouldn’t do what I was seconds from doing. Once I did, I would be past the point of no return. But of course, I think we’d passed that point years ago.

Years. This had gone on for years. I had become a shell of what I should be, a zombie going through my life day to day just so my parents could funnel all of their love and appreciation to my brother, to Aiden. What did I ever do to deserve this?

I knew the answer to that. I was born. I had the misfortune of being born to the Harding family, being their first-born child. I was unlucky from the very day I was conceived, so I supposed this was a long time coming.

Oh, Mother, I thought, I won’t miss you at all. You bitch.

Stopping just behind her sitting form, I gripped the knife’s handle harder as I watched her head bob back as she took a sip of wine, her attention solely focused on the news before her. The volume was up, so I doubted she was aware she wasn’t alone anymore. Such an unsuspecting death, but that’s fine. She would get what she deserved in the end.

Death could be sweet. It could claim you in the middle of the night, in old age, after you’d had a long, fulfilled life. It could be so sweet, so gentle… and yet it could also be horrific and painful. My mother was seconds from getting the latter.

My other hand lifted in the air, fingers outstretched. My mother’s hair was not unlike mine, though quite a bit shorter. Its blonde color was highlighted and angled and layered—she went to a salon every other week to get it touched up. I wanted to yank her hair out, make her scalp bleed, but that would invite mistakes. No, I had to do this in one blow, at least for her.

Mommy, dearest. How terrible you’ve been to me. Goodbye.

My hand shot down, violently clutching the back of her hair, tilting her head towards me and revealing the tender underside of her neck. Her eyes widened, her mouth opening to ask me what I was doing, but then she saw the knife. Before she could speak a single word, before the bitch could scream, I dragged the sharp edge of the steel along her throat, from ear to ear, cutting as deeply as I could.

She dropped her wine glass, the drink spilling on the floor, the glass shattering on impact, and I stood there behind the couch, keeping a firm hold of her head as she looked upwards at me, starting to choke on her own blood. What did she see? I wondered. Did she see the dead expression on my face? I sure as hell saw the way her pupils glazed over, how they dilated once her body and the couch were covered in her blood.

It happened so fast, it was almost unreal. Like a movie scene. Like a crime scene from a horror film. The blood was everywhere, a bright red, grisly and ghastly, and yet, as I stared down at the liquid covering my mother’s body and the white leather couch, I had never seen something so beautiful, something so serene.

Blood painted such a pretty picture, there really was nothing like it.

I let go of my mother’s head, letting her body loll to the side, collapsing. It was then I moved around the couch, and I stood, barefoot, in the wine on the floor. My feet stepped on shattered glass, the shards cutting into me, but I didn’t feel them. I’d become numb to the pain so long ago.

Mother was perhaps the most beautiful she’d ever been. Her body slumped over, a thick, garish wound on her neck. It still bled, but since her heart had stopped, it was lessening. Blood coated her whole front, having sprayed out from the wound as I’d dragged the knife along her throat. It got everywhere, such a stark difference to her skin and the leather of the couch.

They say a picture was worth a thousand words. I wished so badly I could take a thousand photos of this scene, just so I would have them to remember this night by.

That was, of course, assuming I survived the night. Who knew? Maybe my father would put up more of a fight. Or maybe not. He was always so focused on whatever it was he worked on in his office. I bet he wouldn’t even see me come in.

I breathed in, the air having a metallic, heavy twang it did not have before. I was almost smiling as I returned to the stairs, gripping the knife at my side. Deliberate in my slowness, I walked up to the third floor. There was no way my father had heard the wineglass fall; this house was a mansion, a labyrinth, and in it lived lost souls.

Me? I didn’t know whether I had a soul. People would probably say no, how could I have a soul after doing what I just did, with what I was about to do? People with souls could be saved, but I was too far gone, too far lost. I had wandered away from the path of God and his forgiveness. I should’ve been my parents’ angel, but they had ripped the wings from me years ago and watched in silence as my brother tainted my body again and again.

I was no angel. I had been made a monster, the thing good, sane people wanted to see locked up and tried for their crimes. There would be no happy ending for me, but that was okay. As long as I got to take my family out with me, I’d be fine with it.

People like me, people like my mother and father—and especially people like Aiden—we did not deserve happy endings. We were made for misery.

I neared my father’s study, and as I walked to stand beneath the door frame of his office, I held the knife behind my back, the steel pressed against my spine. I didn’t have too much blood on my clothes from mother’s death, so unless he tore his eyes off the laptop before him, he wouldn’t notice.

And he didn’t. Father didn’t glance up, didn’t even look at me. It was like he was in his own world as I walked in, trailing bloody footprints.

I stopped only when I stood beside him, when I gazed down at him. He sat in a high back leather chair, hunched forward as he read whatever was on the screen before him. “Daddy,” I whispered, my voice soft and hushed.

He still didn’t look at me.

“Daddy,” I spoke again, firmer this time. “Look at me.”

His eyes closed, and he leaned back in his chair, slow to turn it towards me. It was almost like it pained him to move away from his laptop. Such a silly man. He was about to discover what true pain felt like, and I was going to watch. This time, I was going to get bloody myself.

“What—” He started to speak, his eyelids lifting.

He saw the knife too late. I stabbed him in his chest, digging the steel as deep as I could, all the while staring into his eyes. He grunted, he tried to push me off, but I yanked out the knife and stabbed him again. Over and over, again and again, my arm took on a life of its own as I went nuts on my father’s chest and stomach.

I lost count, my eyes seeing nothing but red as I bared my teeth. Hot, wet blood splattered on my face, coating my arms. His clothes were completely torn up, his mouth oozing maroon. I’d gone at him so hard and so fast I had forgotten to gaze into those cold, unloving eyes and watch the life drain out of them.

Pity.

But, as I finally took hold of myself and stepped back, gazing at my handiwork, it was worth it all the same. Other than his face, my father was unrecognizable. He didn’t bleed as much as mother did, but that didn’t matter, because he was still dead.

He was dead, and in death he was as hideous as he’d been in life.

I smiled at his corpse, feeling, for the first time in so long, something stirring in my heart. A warmth, a happiness, a feeling of contentment. Even though my brother was still out there, even though this story was not yet over, it felt so fucking good to rid myself of these people, these horrible, terrible people.

They weren’t parents. Not to me. They were nothing more than monsters themselves, and they got their comeuppance in the end. Killed by their own daughter, the daughter they treated like shit.

Oh, yes. There was no other way for my parents to leave this world besides at my hands.

I left my father’s office, after that. I started to pace the hall, still clutching onto the knife. I didn’t know what to do. Waiting for my brother was one option, but I didn’t know what time he was coming home, and surprising my brother would take more now, now that I had so much adrenaline pumping through my veins. I didn’t want to make a mistake. I didn’t…

My feet stopped, and I stared at the bloody footprints from my pacing. The bottoms of my feet had been cut by the shards of the wineglass downstairs, and though I didn’t feel pain from them, it was like I was thrown into another memory, another time. A time when I felt fear and pain and anger.

Hands, all over my body. Choking without hurting, stifling without pressure. I couldn’t breathe, and yet doing anything but that was out of the question. I couldn’t scream, because it was pointless, couldn’t fight him, because he was stronger than me. He was stronger, and they’d only take his side anyway.

Tears trickling down my face, tickling as they went. I felt both too enclosed in my body and too far gone. The face above me wore a smile, but it was a lie. A pretty lie everyone else believed. Everyone loved him. He told me he loved me. He said he loved me too much, because I had the face of an angel. We were all sinners here. There was no God. No light. No peace.

You could not have peace when you wanted to die, and that’s what he made me feel, even though his words told me, time and time again, that he loved me.

My back slammed against the wall of the hallway, and I dropped the knife. It clattered to the floor, its steel stained red from its use. My breathing became shallow and frantic, and for a while, I couldn’t get ahold of myself. I didn’t feel like me.

You see, Aiden had a way of doing that to me. How else could I explain why I’d been so silent all of these years? Why I hadn’t tried to tell anyone else? If my parents didn’t care, why would anyone else give a shit about me? Why would anyone look at me twice, especially when everyone who ever met Aiden immediately fell under his spell?

He would have me put into a mental hospital. He would find out a way to make the rest of my life miserable. He would still want me, want to keep me, keep using me, so how the hell could I stay and wait for him to come back?

No. No, I had to go. I had to go right now, get out of this house before he got back. I couldn’t wait. I couldn’t stay here. To wait was to tempt the devil himself, and after what I did to our parents… he’d make sure I regretted it. As hollowed out as I felt and as dead as I was inside, I still didn’t have the strength to face him.

How could I? Aiden had been the face of my nightmares since I was little, and he would haunt my very dreams until the day I died. I knew he would. There was no question about it.

That was why I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t kill him. I had to leave.

As much as I wanted to go right now, I couldn’t. I had to shower, had to wash my parents’ blood off my body and try to scrub away the ghostly feeling of his hands on me… along with other body parts.

How many times had I gotten sick? How many times did my body start to change after those midnight visits? I couldn’t even say. To count would be to lose myself to a worse madness. I’d lost track of how many times my mother took me to a doctor, paid them to make me better. Eventually, it’d become too much of a hassle, so my parents paid the doctor extremely well, and he fixed me up.

No more bodily changes. No more morning sickness. No more babies in my belly from my brother.

The water pelted my head, and I brought up my hands to my face, staring at them. They shook, trembling, and I watched them clench. No more feeling sorry for myself. No more sitting around and waiting for him to come to me again. I was going to leave this fucking house, to run and never look back—and when Aiden got home, he’d find our mother and father dead and know it was me.

I could only wish he would send the police after me, pray that he would have them follow me, find me, and arrest me. In jail, at least I’d be safe from him.

But he wouldn’t. Aiden would never be able to stand not having me at his disposal. He would say I was mentally unstable or something, pay off everyone involved. He would somehow get his wish, and he’d keep me forever.

Fuck that. I was not going to sit around and wait for a life like that. I would make my own life out there.

And that’s what I did. I left that house, not once looking back. I took all the cash out of my mother’s purse and my father’s wallet and took a bus out of Lionsgrove. It was almost funny; my family had always assumed I’d stay close, go to the nearby university after high school and forever remain under their thumbs.

Things had certainly changed, hadn’t they?

I was able to find a few nice people in the world, mostly women who looked out for other women who didn’t want to talk about their pasts, and all the while I waited to hear something. A prestigious, rich family, murdered in cold blood? Something like that graced the news, or at least flashed temporarily across the headlines.

Aiden had to have a hand in it, because I never saw anything. I never heard about the massacred Hardings or their missing daughter. I mean, since I was missing and I didn’t exactly try to hide the murder weapon or clean my bloody footprints, you’d think they’d be searching for me. You’d think they’d put out a wanted memo or whatever it was called, plaster my face on the evening news and have newscasters tell their audience if they saw me to contact the authorities immediately.

But they didn’t. Nothing ever happened, and that, I think, was worse, because I spent so much time waiting for it, wanting to see the fruit of my labor. My parents weren’t good people. I wanted the world to know they were dead. Was that too much to ask?

Money solved everything in this world, I discovered. Money, money, money. If you had the green, literally nothing was impossible—and that gave me the idea.

I wanted the world to know someone was watching, someone was aware of the injustices and how incompetent the law was. I wanted the world to know how utterly sick and twisted most people were. So, I started to hunt, only this time I didn’t hunt the rich. This time I hunted those who were less well-off than my parents. I’d call them normal people, but normal people didn’t try to rape others or take advantage of them.

The first few times were messy, sloppy. I didn’t use a disguise. I made mistakes, but I learned from them, and I did not linger in any city long enough for them to find me. Oh, those kills made the news, especially when the authorities started to link the separate slayings. They all had the same M.O., and that was because it was all me.

Lola Harding, the girl who had lost everything, the one who decided to turn the tables onto those who were used to getting their way no matter what. The men who hunted the drunk girls, the ones who drugged their dates and tried to take them home. Really, I was just cleaning up the streets, you know? Because the police sure as shit hardly took rape and sexual abuse seriously.

Sure, some of the crime was investigated, but even in the courts, it seemed to be stacked against us. If the guy was white, he got off. If he had money, he got off. If he was from a well-respected family or even a small town, he got off. The judge apologized to him, not the girl, not the person that was hurt.

Those girls didn’t deserve to be treated like that by the police or the courts. They didn’t deserve to watch their attackers leave with a tiny slap on the wrist. They deserved vengeance, and I was going to give it to them.

I had nothing more to lose. I had no life, no future. If anyone was going to stalk the streets, the clubs, and the bars to turn the tables on the sleazy men, it would be me.

The so-called nice guys out there had nothing to worry about. I only hunted those who deserved it, the ones I’d seen try stupid things. I didn’t care who they were or what their names were, what career they had or what their future aspirations were; I only cared that they were dirty, gross men who only thought with the heads swinging between their legs. Their dicks.

It wasn’t long before I earned myself a name, and it was a name that actually made me smile. A moniker that gave this gal a new breath of life. Call me a killer, call me mentally unstable, what the fuck ever. I was the goddamned Night Slayer, and I wasn’t going to stop slaying until I died.

Hopefully that would be soon, because I sure as shit couldn’t see living like this until I was eighty.

When would my sweet death arrive?

Chapter Two – Lola

You know, I used to think my death came in the form of the Lucianos. I’d killed their youngest member, a man I still liked to refer to as Dickless, but a man they called Mario. He’d tried to take me home one night, thinking I was drunk.

The problem with that? Drunk girls can’t give consent. So he got a knife in the throat. Put up a bit of a fight, but the stupid dude pulled out the knife and only caused himself to bleed out faster. Stupid fool.

They were going to kill me, but Sylvester Luciano had the idea to use me before killing me. Daddy Luciano agreed, much to Mad Maddox’s horror. That one, oh, he hated me, and I couldn’t blame him for it. I did kill his brother, after all.

And, hey, maybe they were still going to kill me. I mean, it wasn’t like I thought they would adopt me into the family and I’d become their girl or something. I wasn’t stupid. When I said people like me didn’t get happy endings, I meant it one hundred fucking percent. Still, though, it was nice for a gal to think she might be wanted, that she found a place where she belonged.

Too late, mind you, since I killed one of their own, but I still found them.

And, fuck it all, they made me feel alive. Silly as it might be, I liked their brand of crazy. Maddox’s darkness, Sylvester’s calculated obsession, even Viper’s unwavering loyalty. I wasn’t used to feeling anything at all, so when I started to feel things for these guys—for guys who wouldn’t hesitate to kill me should their daddy say so—it came as a shock to me.

I had a motto, you see, after everything that happened with my family. No one could steal it or take it from you if you were giving it away. I’d been so dead and so cold inside for years that the feelings building inside of me had come as a shock. They wanted me, and I wanted them, which was a far cry from how I felt about the first boy who wanted me so badly he decided he had to have me.

Aiden. My brother.

Don’t get me wrong, I knew it wasn’t so different, but the Lucianos and those who followed them were not my family. Maddox and Sylvester were not my brothers. Liking them and what they did to me didn’t mean I liked what my brother had done to me all those years ago. Maybe it was a teeny, tiny bit related—not saying your girl wasn’t fucked up, because I totally was—but I just couldn’t help it, you know? I liked these guys, and I didn’t want my time with them to end, even though I knew it would.

Not for a while yet. They had me singing at a club, the Gilded Rose. Opening night for the public wasn’t for a while yet, but there was a pre-opening night I was booked for. I had the voice of an angel, and the Lucianos were going to use it. I wasn’t too happy about that in the beginning, but I got over it. I was a big girl.

I kind of went batshit crazy though, tore my hands up to hell after going Rambo on a mirror in their house. My knuckles, my palm… I really did a number on myself. The wounds were scabbing over and starting to heal, but until they did, I’d be wearing silk gloves while I performed.

And leather gloves while I was out on what I liked to call date nights with the guys… which led me to where we were now.

It was a beautiful night, and I didn’t say that every night. No, there was something special about tonight—maybe the way the stars seemed to shine brightly even though they were usually blocked out by the pollution and lights from the city. Maybe it was the way the moon seemed to hang a bit low, its circle full, its craters visible to the naked eye. A girl could get lost in a night sky like that, all the possibilities and wonders it held, the whispers it sang to you when the wind blew gently.

Of course, when the wind blew, you also got to smell the stink of the city, and that was enough to knock you out of whatever trance the pretty sky put you in, trust me. This city might have its clean areas, but it was as dirty and rotten as a place could be. There were no righteous souls here, and that was reflected in its back alleyways and its abandoned districts.

One of which Sylvester, Viper, Tony, and I were at. We were waiting for someone to show their face, and once they did, I’d have a little fun. Sylvester, the cool cat, didn’t want to take me on this date, but I wore him down. I think I was a weakness to him, somehow, don’t ask me why.

The river that ran around the city was near, the docks on the warehouse nearby long since decayed and forgotten. I stood near the river, the concrete walkway fifteen feet above its water. It wasn’t too long of a fall, but I heard this river was so filthy, so nasty, that it caught fire quite a few times from all the trash and oil in it. The latest time it happened wasn’t even that long ago.

My arms were crossed, metal tucked neatly between my jeans and the skin of my back. I wore a thin leather jacket, its shoulders studded in spikes. I held onto my mask, running my gloved fingers along it absentmindedly, ready to put it on. My blonde hair was down, free to wave in the breeze that swirled off the water. You couldn’t hear a thing here, other than the water’s movement. It was kind of nice.

Viper was only here because he and Big Mike were still my guards. Well, not my guards in the sense they were guarding me from something else; more like the opposite. They were guarding everyone else around me from me. Silly, right? I mean, if I wanted to kill the Lucianos, I would’ve tried it by now.

I was just along for the ride, and I planned on enjoying the ride for however long it lasted.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. I was under no impression anything I had between Sylvester or Maddox would save me. This family would kill me… it was only a matter of time.

Time. Ain’t it funny how time was supposed to be the great equalizer, the thing that affected everyone equally? It wasn’t, not when your past always lingered in the back of your head, not when things had fucked you up so badly you didn’t care whether you lived or died. Time could never help me. No, I was too far gone for that.

Sylvester moved to stand beside me, his hands stuffed in his pant pockets. He wore a dark, sleek suit, an outfit he was usually in. Maddox was a caveman when compared to Sylvester where clothes were concerned. The blonde Luciano brother beside me had style, I’d give him that.

He also had a way with his dick, but that was neither here nor there.

He also wasn’t technically a Luciano. He wasn’t born to the family; Daddy Luciano found him after a particularly bloody job, and he decided to take the homeless boy in and raise him as his own.

I know. Talk about fucking lucky. Sylvester didn’t remember what his life was like before, what happened to his parents, only that he’d been on the streets, fending for himself for what felt like forever before Richard found him. Hell, Sylvester wasn’t even the name he was born with, but once he became a Luciano, it became his name.

His blue eyes were on the water, though they soon moved to me, staring at me with an expression that felt doubly heavy in the darkness of the night. “How are your hands?” The breeze blew by, and for once I didn’t smell the reek of the river’s trash. Instead, I smelled him.

It was a nice scent, too. Manly, musky, the kind of scent that lured you in seconds before swallowing you whole. I didn’t think I’d mind getting swallowed like that, not by him.

I didn’t take my gaze off the river, knowing where my mind would go if I did. Standing so close to Sylvester, smelling him in the air, seeing him in his suit and knowing what he was packing beneath it… it wouldn’t take much to get my mind traveling in the wrong direction, the inappropriate direction. Couldn’t have that. Had to keep my head on my shoulders, at least until the job was done.

What was the job tonight? Nothing too big. Just a little questioning, a few threats here and there, and if we found out good ole Danny had been turned by the DeLucas, well… then I’d get to use the steel tucked between my pants and my skin.

I flexed my hands, the sound of leather tightening filling the air. Not gonna lie, the leather gloves made me feel like a badass. Like a fucking badass who could take the world on and win. An impossible feat, but then again, when I’d woken up tied to a chair, being stared at by a few handsome strangers, I thought living to see another night would be impossible, and yet here I was.

Here I was. A miracle. Or just prolonged torture. We’d have to wait and see which one.

“My hands are fine, for the thousandth time,” I said, not wanting to tell him that my scabs had turned itchy and I’d accidentally peeled one off and reopened the wound. If there was someone here with willpower, it obviously wasn’t me.

If I had an itch, I scratched it. If I was hungry, I ate my fill. If my core burned with the need to be filled by a thick, fat cock, then I got laid. That’s how life should be. Do what you want, when you want, and never have to apologize for it. We should all be more like dogs. Humans… humans just suck.

Sylvester turned toward me, one of his hands slipping out of his pocket only to be placed on my side. His fingers curled up my shirt, beneath my jacket, and I fought the instant shiver that threatened to sweep over me at his touch. “I’m only worried about you.”

It took everything in me not to roll my eyes. Sylvester could be sweet sometimes, but most times, a sweet guy wasn’t what I needed. I needed the rough and wild one. I needed someone who didn’t look at me as if I was their whole world, like I could break further. Someone like me… I’d only disappoint the nice ones.

Him. I’d only disappoint Sylvester.

But, hey, maybe that feeling stemmed from the fact that no one had ever been nice to me in my entire life, but whatever. I had issues. Lots of them. Way too many to waste time and count them.

“Don’t be,” I said, folding my arms over my chest as I looked at him for just a split-second before turning and walking away, away from the water, away from Sylvester and his heavy gaze and worried expression.

Viper and Tony stood near a stack of wooden crates. Tony had a leg kicked up, leaning back on the crates, while Viper held his hands before his stomach, ever the watchman, those hazel orbs on me, as they always were when he was around. His arms were free of any jacket or sleeves, the snake tattoos on his arms visible in the silver moonlight.

He was tatted up and beautiful. There was nothing else in the world sexier than a man who had loads of tattoos and wore them well.

I guess I could say the same thing about Maddox, but that fool wasn’t here.

Moving to lean beside Tony, I smiled at him. Tony hung out at the house a lot, he went out on jobs often for the family, but out of everyone, I felt like I knew him the least. He was not a Luciano, but he might as well have been.

Know what they called him? Tony the Tiger. Like, a play off that old tiger character for that one cereal brand. I thought it was hilarious, and when I heard Sylvester call him that the first time, I could not stop myself from laughing—which, I think, kind of ticked Tony off. Poor Tony.

“Feels like we’ve been waiting here forever,” I said, whining just a bit. “What if Danny doesn’t show?”

Sylvester had followed me away from the water, shadows dancing across his handsome face as he muttered, “He’ll show, or we’ll track him down and make him wish he showed.” A threat I knew was more like a promise. Just because he was the gentler brother didn’t mean he couldn’t be as vicious as Maddox. He was just more calculated in letting his monster loose.

Headlights flashed in the distance, a car heading towards us.

I pushed off the crates as Tony smirked and said, “Well, well. It’s like he heard us.”

Before coming out from our hiding place, I put my mask on, hiding the lower half of my face with its skeletal, beautiful design. My heart had felt strangely full when I’d gazed down at this mask sitting inside a box, a present for me, something that was made specifically for me.

Couldn’t have me all dolled up and singing at the Gilded Rose while also doing jobs for the Lucianos, could they? So, clearly it served another purpose; I knew they didn’t get it for me just to get me something nice.

But, still, it felt kind of good to think that they did.

Together, the four of us waited for the car to slow to a stop. Fifty feet away, the man I assumed was Danny stepped out, his car lights still on. Don’t know why he didn’t turn them off when he got out of the car. Maybe he wanted the ambiance, or something.

Or maybe he thought blinding us with his headlights would give him the upper hand. Either way, he would be sorely disappointed. You could gouge out my eyeballs and I’d still come after you if I had to. I was tenacious like that.

Danny was a fellow who wasn’t quite in middle age yet. He was older than the Luciano brothers, a bit older than Viper. He had brown hair that was shaved short to his head, along with an impeccably-groomed beard. He wore dark clothes, keeping with the theme of this city, but all in all, he was nowhere near as impressive as the men around me.

He did have a fancy car, but fancy cars were a dime a dozen. Shiny, expensive things did not impress me. I was a Harding. I grew up in Lionsgrove. I was born among the shiny and expensive things.

“You know,” Danny spoke, his voice dry, “I like it better when we meet in bars, for the record. This—” He paused, glancing around us at the empty, forsaken area. “—this is just creepy.”

Sylvester stood in the front, and I knew he had a gun hidden beneath his suit. His reflexes were fast, so if something were to happen, he’d be fine. “I think the time of meeting in bars for us is long gone, don’t you, Danny?” His blonde head tilted as he waited a moment before saying, “Or should I call you traitor, instead?”

Danny let out a chuckle, but it was an anxious sound. He stepped closer, shaking his head once. “Really? After all these years, you think I would really go to the DeLucas? Come on, Sylvester—”

I shifted my weight, and it was then Danny saw me.

Or, more correctly, he saw my mask. “I heard you had a new toy. Didn’t think I’d get to see her.”

Anytime I was out on a job, I wore the mask now, so no one knew my full face. Most often, I was around for kicks, to intimidate people… but sometimes they let me loose, and I was able to do whatever the hell I wanted. When that happened, things had a habit of getting bloody. It was a damned good thing the police in this town looked the other way when it was Luciano business.

Sylvester turned his head, glancing at me. Though he said nothing, I knew what he wanted me to do, so I stepped out, away from the three men, moving toward Danny.

Danny’s posture went rigid, but he didn’t try anything, to his credit. Then again, they rarely did. I think it was because of the mask. It made them so uneasy, so weirded out that they couldn’t quite think straight. Such as, letting me get so close would only be detrimental to their health, but they didn’t seem to mind until it was too late.

I stopped only when I stood beside Danny, my head cocked as I stared at him.

Danny was slow to take his eyes off me and bring them back to Sylvester. I was able to see just how intimidating Sylvester was right now with both Tony and Viper behind him. A trio of absolute doom and death and violence, and they were downright godly in the shadows of the night.

And, even better, I’d get to go home with them after this. You really couldn’t beat that.

“Look,” Danny spoke, “the DeLucas have been asking around, that’s it.”

Sylvester’s expression mirrored that of his brother, for once: downright murderous. “And did they find out what they’ve been after? Did you tell them Mario’s dead?”

Ah, so that was the point of this little meeting in the middle of nowhere. Danny here sure did make a mistake, and it would be his last.

The Lucianos had been trying to keep Mario’s death under wraps for as long as they possibly could, because losing a son would make them seem weaker—and they were, but I think their weakness had been building for quite a while. The longer a war went on, the more casualties there were.

Only this particular casualty was because of me.

I made them seem weak in front of their enemies. Who knew? Maybe knowing Mario was dead would give the DeLucas ideas to try to take this city from them. That was not something I could allow.

As far as I knew, no one had told anyone Mario was dead, but then Sylvester reached into his suit and pulled out a small card. He tossed it at Danny, and it landed on the concrete just before his feet.

Danny bent down, never once breaking eye contact with Sylvester as he picked it up. Since I was so close to him, I was able to see what it was. A sympathy card, a sorry for your loss card, and it was signed in regal handwriting by Carl DeLuca, the head of the DeLuca family. It didn’t address Mario specifically, but what else would it be for?

Danny’s hands trembled a bit; I only noticed because I was so close. I bet Sylvester and the others didn’t see it. “I didn’t tell anyone,” he said. “I haven’t even talked about Mario—I mean, I might’ve mentioned to a friend that I hadn’t seen him in a while, but I never said he was dead.”

“What friend would that be, Danny?” Sylvester asked. “I hear you’ve been seen in some DeLuca hangouts lately. Why would that be?” As he spoke, he sounded so interested, so calm and collected even though I knew, deep down, he wanted to tear the skin off this guy. I had to hand it to him. Sylvester was something else.

Danny didn’t say a word, but his hands did fall to his sides, the card falling to the concrete below.

“You know we hear and see everything in this city,” Sylvester spoke. “Who’s your new DeLuca friend?”

“If you see everything, you should already know,” Danny spat out.

Everything that happened after that happened fast. Everyone had amazing reflexes, it was truly something else. But you know what? I was still faster, because I’d been itching to get my knife out this whole time.

Danny pulled out a sidearm, seconds from lifting it up and pointing it at Sylvester, but I had a knife put to the side of his throat before he could lift his arm and aim.

I breathed hard beneath the mask, the sound of my breathing all Danny could hear, at least until Sylvester spoke evenly, “I do know. You’re the Princess’s new toy.” I wasn’t sure who the Princess was, but I could attribute that to the fact that I was still pretty new in town. I didn’t know everybody. There were too many nicknames.

Danny chuckled, and when I put more pressure onto his neck, he dropped the gun. Its steel clattered loudly on the concrete. “You’re all fools,” he spoke with a shake of his head, as if he really, truly believed it.

No, he was the fool, the big idiot who went against the Lucianos and would now pay the price.

You didn’t tell their rival’s family that they’d lost someone without any consequences. Unfortunately for Danny, the consequence wouldn’t be too pretty.

I kicked the gun away from Danny’s feet, sliding it over to Sylvester, who slowly bent to pick it up. Sylvester approached him, though Viper and Tony hung back, watching what was about to unfold with interest.

Keeping the knife against his throat, I jammed my foot against the back of his ankle, causing Danny’s leg to give out. He was on his knees before Sylvester within a moment, and I gripped his hair, pulling his head back as I moved the knife to the front of his neck. He divided his time between staring at me and staring at Sylvester.

He should’ve looked at me more. Tonight, I would be his angel of death.

“You think I’m the only one?” Danny spat out, blinking far too much. It was like he was finally realizing tonight was going to be his last night on this earth. What a feeling that must be. To any normal person, I suppose it would be frightening, but to me? To me this poor bastard was lucky.

This world… it wasn’t meant for good people. I supposed that’s why I was still here. It had tried to swallow me, but it hadn’t devoured me just yet.

“Who else betrayed us?” Sylvester asked, but I knew it was a pointless question. Danny might barely admit to his betrayal, but he would not confess to anything else tonight. “Who else?” His voice was rough and wild, and it looked like he was barely able to hold himself back.

Danny grinned, though it was more a grimace than anything else. “I ain’t telling you shit. You Lucianos think you own the city—you have another thing coming, and I only wish I’d be there when—”

Sylvester waved his hand, turning his back on Danny as he blabbered on. Like, come on, dude. This wasn’t his villain monologue. He was a nobody. A nobody who had told the DeLucas that Mario was gone, but a nobody all the same.

And he would die like a nobody.

I dragged the knife along Danny’s throat, carving a deep gash in the most tender spot on his body. How ironic that an important vein sat not too far from the surface of the skin. When nicked, you bled out so fast.

Blood spewed from the wound. Sylvester was too far away to be splattered by it, and I held onto the back of his head for a few moments more. He struggled, sure, once he knew he was fucked, but by then it was too late. The ugly, thick gash was already in his neck and his blood already coated his chest and the concrete before him.

Such a pretty picture it painted, and it reminded me of the night I’d done the same thing to my mother. Mommy dearest got what she deserved, just like this fucker did. I didn’t mind being the Luciano’s weapon of vengeance. Not one bit.

I released his body, watching with a smirk beneath my mask as his corpse fell forward, collapsing with a satisfying thud on the ground.

“Clean this up,” Sylvester ordered, “and get rid of his car. Put him in the river. I don’t care.” He left Viper and Tony’s side, stepping around the body, around the giant pool of blood to get to me. His hand curled around my upper arm, and he dragged me away from the scene.

Not too far from there our cars sat. Viper had driven with Sylvester and me, while Tony met us here. Two cars sitting in the darkness near a warehouse that looked like it was so old it should be torn down and leveled.

He only let me go once we neared our vehicle, and I lowered my mask as I stared at the red staining the knife in my hand. I didn’t get to stare at it for long, though. Sylvester took the knife out of my hand, setting it atop the hood, and he towered over me, breathing hard, his eyebrows furrowed.

Now, normally he got off watching me have a little fun, but this… I didn’t think this was like that. This was different, for whatever reason. This was more.

My ass leaned against the car’s hood, Sylvester’s tall frame blocking out the moonlight. “My father isn’t going to be happy to learn that there are more,” he whispered, shaking his head once. He leaned toward me, resting his forehead against mine, as if my presence would calm him.

“You said you guys heard and saw everything in this city,” I spoke, reaching my bloodied hand to his tie, staining its fabric. His family had more than enough money to replace any clothes that got dirty on the job.

“We used to, but now?” Sylvester paused, sighing. “Things have changed. You… my father might try to blame you, but it wasn’t Mario’s death that caused this. Our family has been losing the war for years now. No one wants to admit it.”

“Well, you have me now.”

At that, he smiled. His eyes were half-open, hardly more than slits as he stared at me, breathing in my air and forcing me to do the same to his. He didn’t bring up how I was the one who’d killed Mario, how I might’ve set things off and made things worse for his family. Instead, he murmured, “You are certainly something to fear, aren’t you?”

I brought my bloodied hand to his neck, the leather of the glove smooth against his skin. “I am. Don’t pretend you didn’t know that already.” I grinned, closing the distance between our mouths the next moment.

Who was I trying to kid? He got turned on watching me go batshit crazy, and I got turned on by the sight of blood and the adrenaline pumping through my veins. The only way to relieve the feeling was to fuck right here, right now, while Viper and Tony were off on cleanup duty.

All I could say was: thank God I wasn’t on cleanup duty. Cleaning up the mess isn’t half as fun as making it.

I bit his lower lip, not hard enough to make him bleed, but hard enough so he knew I was serious, so he knew this wasn’t just a quick make-out session. Come on. We were both adults here. Fucking was the fun part. Kissing was… well, I could still do without it, but the feeling of Sylvester’s lips on mine did make me want more.

Not that I would ever admit that out loud, because I wouldn’t. I would never speak about how badly these guys made me wish things were different, that, for the first time in my life, I wanted something that wasn’t just an escape.

I wanted to be alive, and though I was far past that point in my life where I could live, being with these guys was the next best thing.

As I kissed him, my hands dropped to his belt, which I frantically started to undo. Gripping everything was hard with the gloves, but I knew if I took them off, it might cause more of the scabs to peel. As annoying as the scabs were, I had to heal. I had to get better so then I could have no barriers between my hands and the blood I spilled, so I could feel the warm, gooey messes I made for the Lucianos.

Eyes on the prize.

Sylvester pulled his mouth off mine, beginning to work on my own pants. My jeans only had a button and a zipper, and within a moment my bare ass was against the car, my jeans and my panties pulled down. I got his cock free, its length already rock hard.

I didn’t know how long we had before Viper and Tony showed up, how long it would take them to get rid of the car and the body, but odds were we didn’t have long. They’d dump both in the river and then make their way back here, but you know what? I didn’t care if we had an audience. In fact, the more eyes on us the better. Give Viper and Tony a taste of what they were missing.

Well, Tony at least. Viper already had the pleasure of being inside of me, though I did wonder if anyone else knew about that.

Things had been a little weird between Sylvester and me after the whole birth control thing. And now that he knew the truth, things had slowed down a bit, sex-wise. Doing this, it was back to normal, in a way.

I did wonder what he thought of me, if the truth about my past made him think I was weak or something. I was, but then again, I wasn’t that scared little girl anymore. She’d been buried a long time ago.

One strong arm around my back, he used his other hand to guide his cock to my entrance, pushing in as he let out a low groan. Sylvester fucked me against the car, hard and rough, calling to mind how his brother would take me.

Oh, Maddox certainly was mad in every aspect of the word, but he wore the madness so very well.

Sylvester’s madness was more refined, though the violence and cruelness ran through his blood just as much as it did to his brother. He was cold and calculating one moment, warm and welcoming the next. Hot and cold, sweet and cruel, a combination meant for hell, not heaven—but hell was where all the fun was at, anyways.

I stared at the starry sky for a few moments, at the moon and its beauty, before closing my eyes and losing myself to the feeling of being complete, being full with Sylvester’s cock. My blood felt like it was on fire, although I guess I could attribute that to both the killing and the fucking.

Yeah, yeah. I was fucked up. We’d already established this, so let’s move on.

My gloved hands gripped his blonde head, grunts escaping me each time he thrust into me, filling me up to the brink. His cock was hard and thick, my body more than ready to take everything he gave me.

I’d never become a slave to another person’s body, but for the two remaining Luciano brothers? Oh, I just might rethink that. They each had a way with me I couldn’t deny, made me feel things I couldn’t fight. I wanted their darkness. I wanted to see their monsters and show them mine. A bit of show and tell was always fun, wasn’t it?

We were two lost souls, currently losing ourselves in one another. Sex had always been just sex for me, a bodily release, but this… this felt deeper than that. This felt like a soul release, whatever the fuck that meant. Like, it wasn’t just my body that was about to have its tension-relieving orgasm. It was my entire being.

Maybe it was the fact that I was being fucked against the hood of a car, or maybe it was the fact that we might have an audience at any time, but I found my release soon enough, my body shaking with an orgasm. Violent and delightful all at once, I cried out and threw my head back, arching my spine to let Sylvester pummel me deeper. Everything was tingly, everything was great. There truly was no other feeling like it in the world.

Sylvester took up a rougher rhythm with his thrusts, and I managed to open my eyes. I stared up at him, a soft smile on my face. As our eyes locked, his lower back tensed and his balls slammed against my ass. He came with a thunderous groan from his chest, and I imagined him filling me up with his cum, marking me on this night as his.

We must’ve been at it for a little while, for footsteps approached us. Sylvester didn’t pull out of me right away, but he did toss a glance over his shoulder at the two coming upon us. Tony and Viper, done with cleaning up. Almost perfect timing. If they would’ve been a little bit quicker, they would’ve been able to watch.

“Oh, don’t mind us,” Tony quipped, grinning. “Keep going.” His eyes were on me, as were Viper’s. Both men looked downright starving for physical touch, like they could each go a round with me.

If only Sylvester would let them.

Sylvester grunted, pulling himself out of me and putting his cock away, adjusting his pants and his belt before turning to face them.

Me, on the other hand, well, I took my time in sliding off the car’s hood and bending over to grab my pants, which I was certain gave everyone a nice look at my pussy in the darkness. With the moon full above us, it wasn’t like it was pitch-black out. I grinned to myself, mostly at the expressions Viper and Tony wore.

They wanted to take Sylvester’s place, obviously. They wanted to be the ones to stick their cocks so far into me they’d lose themselves in my body. I couldn’t blame them, and if it was up to me I’d say yes. Just pass me around the Luciano household, to my bodyguards and even Tony. Why not? My life would be too short for me to ever grow old and have regrets about who I didn’t fuck.

I mean, variety was the spice of life, wasn’t it? A thick dick, a long dick, a tatted dick, a shaved dick… I mean, give ‘em all to me. I’d be fine. I knew how to work each and every one.

We got in the cars, and then we drove home, the night’s mission complete and another body in the river. That river, I bet, was full of them—not that any cop would ever go searching for any missing persons. The good thing about this town was the beyond-crooked police department. I actually did wonder why the hell there was a police station, but I guessed it was because this city acted as if it was normal.

It wasn’t, though. This city wasn’t one with a seedy underbelly. This place was dark all around, and anyone who chose to live in it either knew that or was stupid as hell.

Chapter Three – Maddox

I thought about going to the club, but after they left, I couldn’t stop thinking about the girl. About Lola. About fucking Lola. I hated that I couldn’t get that girl off my mind, hated that I felt something stirring deep within me every time that pretty face graced my thoughts. She killed Mario. That wasn’t something I could forgive.

But then I always realized that I wasn’t the forgiving sort. I held grudges. I held up a middle finger to everyone with eyes and told them to fuck off. I was not a man of forgiveness, so even thinking about Mario was pointless. That said, just because I knew I could never forgive and forget the past didn’t mean I couldn’t want more from her, right?

Ugh. Fuck. I hated the indecision, and I hated that she was here. Everything would’ve been normal if my father would’ve just told Sylvester to shove off with his idea of using the Night Slayer, training her to become our attack dog. It was his fault she was here, both my father’s and Sylvester’s. I blamed them both for the confusing feelings wrestling inside of me.

So I didn’t go out. I waited in the house for them to return, because I knew they would. I knew tonight would go without a hitch. Father was in his office, as he usually was. I didn’t go to him because I feared he would see the emotion in me. He wouldn’t be happy to see that I’d somehow grown feelings for Lola.

Fucking Lola.

I just couldn’t get over it. I couldn’t stop thinking about what Lola had told us before.

Her brother. Her parents. Her whole fucked-up family who, in turn, fucked her up beyond repair. People like me, we were born into darkness, we were made to be what we became. My father had helped to shape me from a very young age, but I didn’t need much guidance when it came to what our family did.

But not every monster was born. Some were made, like Lola.

There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that Lola would be worlds different if her parents had actually cared enough to stop her brother from abusing her. From raping her and getting her pregnant. All the abortions they made her have, and then paying a doctor to perform surgery on her so she would be sterile…

I mean, how fucking awful. If her parents weren’t already dead, I’d track them down and kill them myself, make them drown in their own blood, all the while also making sure they knew why I was doing it. Why I was hurting them so badly they would long for a quick death. I’d make them know it was because of what they did—or didn’t do—for their daughter.

I shouldn’t care, though. Hence the fucking problem. I shouldn’t give a shit about what Lola went through in her life, shouldn’t care that her brother and her parents fucked her up this badly… but I did. I did, and I couldn’t turn the rage I felt inside off.

Her parents were dead, yes, but her brother wasn’t. I’d already decided that night, the night Lola told us the truth, that I would find him. Use your fucking imagination to think about what I’d do once I got my hands on him. I had a few people looking into it, searching for him. Sooner or later they would find him, and then I would wreak havoc upon his unsuspecting self.

The motherfucker.

There weren’t too many people I hated above all else in this world. One was Lola—and that was confusing as hell because it wasn’t just hatred I felt towards her. The other was her brother, because that sick fuck deserved nothing but revilement and pain. And the third? The third was my mother, but she was another story entirely.

I was in one of the house’s many lounges when they got back, watching three people go at it on the giant screen hanging on the wall.

Yes, I was watching porn. I was a guy. A guy who didn’t feel like hitting up the clubs or seeing my usual girls. And, I regret to inform you, watching porn wasn’t as fun as actually doing it yourself.

I paused it, getting up and heading into the hall. My dick was a little hard, so with a quick adjustment, I was fine.

Sylvester, Viper, and Lola were heading down the hall. Lola and Viper walked past me, but I did get a hungry side-eye from her. Now the look on her face? That got me harder. The look I imagined she wore when she was out on the town with my brother, Viper, and Tony? That got me as hard as steel, but that was a feeling I tried to fight.

My brother stopped, and together we watched Viper and Lola disappear down the hall, turning into the bathroom. The lounge I’d chosen for tonight was the one closest to her room, and if I was honest, I picked that one on purpose.

“How did it go?” I asked, my hands hanging uselessly at my sides, and I was slow to meet my brother’s stare. Even though Lola and Viper had disappeared, it was like I was waiting for her to come back out, to see her again.

God, how fucking desperate did I sound right now? Pretty pathetic, too.

Sylvester shrugged. “I don’t know, honestly. Danny… it was just as our father thought. He was shacking up with the Princess. They all know about Mario now.”

“Shit,” I muttered the word under my breath, shaking my head once. “Now that they know—”

“It’s only a matter of time before they put more pressure on us, maybe even try to kill us.” Sylvester paused, blue eyes staring holes into me. “Especially you. You’re the last heir, Maddox. The last heir with Luciano blood running through your veins.”

I cocked my head at him, frowning. As much as that was true, it didn’t mean shit. Anyone who knew our family knew Sylvester was a brother to me, just as he’d been a brother to Mario. I might be bullheaded and rash as fuck, but even I knew that.

Besides, Sylvester was the one who was eager to take up our father’s mantle, not me. I liked the killing. Running the whole show? That was a hell of a lot of responsibility I didn’t want.

“What?” Sylvester spoke, meeting my frown with one of his own. “It’s true. I might be part of the family, but there are still people out there who don’t think I’m a Luciano, even after all these years.”

“But you’re father’s favorite.” It was the first time I’d said it aloud, but not the first time I’d thought of it. Because it was true. As much as it made me furious, it was true. I was a bat, capable of bludgeoning anyone nearby, but Sylvester? Sylvester was a loaded gun, more precise, more careful in its rampage.

“We both know that doesn’t matter, not to the DeLucas. They will sense we are weak and scrambling, and that’s because we are. They’ll go after you first, then me. We need to be careful,” he said.

I let out a lungful of air, practically growling. How I would love to get my hands on Carl DeLuca, end his reign, and then take out his family and those loyal to him one by one until there was nothing left. That, though, was a pipedream, for as much as my family postured and said we owned this city and everyone in it… it was a lie. A pretty lie wrapped in a bow that we hoped no one would unravel.

And yet they did, because of a traitor.

“I hope Danny’s swimming with the fishes now,” I remarked dryly, wishing I would’ve been there to watch the life drain out of his traitorous eyes.

“He is.” I didn’t have much time to be smug about that fact, because my brother went on, “But he said he wasn’t the only one. We have more traitors in our midst, I fear.”

Of course we did. If Danny was the only one, everything would be too easy now, wouldn’t it? Could not dare to have things be easy.

Sylvester went on, “I have to go tell our father of the news.” Without another word, he started down the hall, disappearing after he rounded a corner.

I watched him go, everything he’d told me swirling in my head like a tornado. We had more traitors, more liars deceiving us. Truly, we couldn’t trust anyone. Maybe it was Viper, or Big Mike, or even Tony… or any of the others in the city, the ones who had been loyal to us from the beginning. Maybe they’d jumped ship because they saw how we were sinking. And now that word got out that Mario was dead…

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

I returned to the lounge, the light dimmed. I did not hit play on the television, instead leaning forward on the couch, my hands fists as my arms rested on my knees. The only person who wasn’t a possible traitor was the one girl I both hated and craved like no other. Lola. She’d come into this family in a mess of blood, having murdered my brother, but not knowing who we were, and then she’d been under constant watch since then—there was no way she was a turncoat.

Trusting Lola. It sounded ridiculous, and that’s because it was. We couldn’t trust Lola at all because she was only in it for herself. She had a death wish. Her mind wasn’t right. Still, knowing there were others out there who wanted the DeLucas to rule this city as we had made having the Night Slayer as our pet seem a little smarter.

Not that I would ever say that aloud to Sylvester. He already had a big enough head as it was.

I must’ve lost myself in my head for a long while, for suddenly a feminine voice spoke from the doorway, “Still up?”

I turned my head, seeing Lola standing, wearing the tiniest shorts ever, along with a white shirt that was one hundred percent see-through. And no bra, her dark nipples on full display beneath the shirt. Her blonde hair was damp, her mask and the clothes she’d worn before gone. Viper wasn’t behind her, as I assumed he was taking care of her clothes and all that. Or maybe rinsing himself off after tonight, taking his turn in the shower.

Still, the girl should have someone watching her at all times since we couldn’t trust her.

Then again, we couldn’t trust anyone apparently, so did it really matter?

“Where’s Viper?” I asked, grinding my teeth. My whole body felt tense, and an easy way of relieving it stood near the door, wearing a tempting outfit that was next to nothing. I doubted she wore panties under there, the dirty girl.

Fuck, no. I should not let my mind wander to sex each and every time Lola appeared before me. That’s how I dug myself into a hole this deep to begin with: wanting the one girl I should never want to stick my cock in.

But I did. Oh, fuck it, I wanted to ram myself into every hole on that body, again and again.

Lola moved to sit beside me on the couch, reclining back, her tits rubbing against the white shirt as she breathed. “He went to shower real quick. Don’t worry, he saw me to the door, and now you’re watching me,” she whispered. Her blue eyes flicked to the screen, where a mess of limbs displayed.

It was definitely an interesting part to have paused it on. The girl on the TV was on her knees before two men, each of which stuck their dicks in her face proudly.

It took her a moment to say, “Having a fun night by yourself?” She didn’t sound awkward at all, kudos to her. In fact, Lola didn’t seem perturbed at all by the naked people on the screen.

I shrugged. “Kind of wish I would’ve been there tonight, so I could’ve seen that fucktard die.” My words were bitten out, my hands still curled into fists. If I could revive Danny just to kill him again, I would. Traitors deserved nothing less than eternal pain and misery.

“Want me to tell you how it went?”

“Sylvester told me—”

“I mean the kill.”

I thought on it, staring at Lola’s face in the dim lighting. Such a beautiful, gorgeous face. It was a face that belonged on an angel, on a person who lived the best life they could, someone who knew right from wrong and was kind and generous and loving. But this was real life, and it sounded like her pretty face had been the catalyst to her life of abuse.

My gaze dropped to her hands. She wore no gloves now, allowing me to see the dark red scabs on them. She’d gone crazy on the mirror down the hall—which we’d gotten replaced immediately, told our father I’d punched it so he wouldn’t have reason to hurt her. After hearing Lola’s story, neither of us wanted her to be hurt.

Stupid. We had all turned stupid for this girl.

“Sure,” I eventually said, lifting my eyes back to hers. She was not the kind of girl I ever saw myself with before, but now… now I couldn’t see myself with anyone else, as much as I didn’t want to say it. I wanted to find her brother and bring him to justice. I wanted to do it for her, to help make her feel better, to give her closure.

God, I sounded like a fucking sap, didn’t I? How lame.

Lola grinned as she told me how the night went. Not the details about what they discovered, how we had more traitors in our midst, but how Danny had looked when she’d stepped out from Sylvester’s shadow. How he’d started to tremble when Sylvester tossed the card my father had received from Carl DeLuca at him. She told me how easily he’d gone down, how bold he’d been, even though she’d held a knife against his throat.

And then, in great detail, she told me how deep she’d cut into him and how quickly he’d bled out. To use her words, it was amazing.

You know what was amazing? Listening to Lola talk about killing. The girl really did love it. She was my brand of crazy, and maybe that’s why I felt drawn to her so much. The Night Slayer and Mad Maddox. We’d make quite the couple.

The problem with that was, well, I didn’t date. I fooled around. I hooked up. But date? Dating required giving one person all of your attention, and I just never felt the need or the desire to do it, nor had I ever met a girl I could see myself with, someone who sated all the ravenous hunger inside me.

Lola couldn’t be that girl. She was my brother’s murderer, and in doing so she’d brought a heap of more shit onto my family.

By the time she was finished explaining how the night went, Viper still wasn’t back. I had no idea what the hell was taking him so long, but any hope of not spending the rest of my night thinking about Lola grew slimmer and slimmer as the minutes wore on.

Might as well make the most of it, I decided, reaching for the remote. My finger hovered over the play button as I glanced at her. She sat inches away from me on the couch, dividing her gaze between me and the remote in my hand. “Mind if I hit play?” I questioned, arching a dark brow at her.

“Not at all,” she purred out.

I hit the button, and the TV roared to life. The sounds of a wet blow job filled the air, along with grunting. The girl on her knees before two cocks on the screen divided her time between them, and for a few moments, Lola and I watched.

Did she get turned on by watching other people? I couldn’t help but wonder that, mostly because Lola could not take her eyes off the screen.

I knew we already had one resident voyeur—Roman. Roman never hid his kink, and now he owned an entire club that he oversaw. He also had put all of his focus on one girl lately. He, Carter, and some other guy who wasn’t involved in any of this were sharing her, like some kind of multiple boyfriend thing.

I didn’t know if I could ever do that. Actually share her. Like, after feelings were proclaimed. This, now… it was easier to say I was just using her for her body. I knew Sylvester had done the same, but he was so much more outgoing when it came to his feelings. I bet Sylvester would fall to his knees and profess his love for her soon enough, he acted like he cared about her so much.

A new possibility came into my head. Maybe she wasn’t getting so much turned on by watching the people on the screen getting down and nasty; maybe she was imagining herself in a similar scenario with me and my brother.

Would she like that, being taken by both of us at once?

I returned my gaze to the screen, trying to push away all thoughts and focus on the porn, on the feeling of my dick twitching in my pants. It was getting harder, but not as quickly as it should.

I thought about taking Lola’s closest hand and bringing it to my pants, to wordlessly tell her to undo the button and zipper and help my cock reach its full hardness faster, but then I remembered how bad in shape her hands were. The wounds were easily hidden by gloves—quick thinking on Sylvester’s part when it came to her outfit for the Gilded Rose—but forcing her to give me a handjob might crack some of them open, and while I wasn’t afraid of a little blood on my dick, I didn’t want to risk it.

So instead of using her hand, I would use something else. That pretty mouth of hers.

Of course, that invited the possibility that she might just gnaw my dick right off—Lola was fucking crazy, let’s not forget—but I didn’t fear that happening. I didn’t think she’d do it. I was her brand of crazy, just as she was mine. It went both ways between us, and that was the only reason I reached for the back of her neck, fingers curling around the sides of her throat, and pulled her off the couch.

Lola went, sparkling blue eyes on me as I pushed her onto the floor between my legs. I tugged on her hair a little, hissing out the words, “Put that mouth to good use on me.” A command. An order, one I knew she would follow because she was a kinky, crazy bitch.

God, I think I was almost as obsessed with her as Sylvester was.

“No knives?” she whined, pouting those full lips as she ran a hand above the growing bulge in my pants.

“Not this time.”

Lola hummed as she freed my cock, her pale hand curling around it as she pumped it twice. Not hard, and not fast, but it was enough to make my balls tense and my cock twitch. She pulled my pants all the way down, freeing my legs of the fabric, which allowed her to get closer.

Those tempting lips parted, and she ran a tongue over them, as if she was about to have the most delicious lollipop ever. I watched as her head bobbed down, her mouth taking me in. She licked a swirl around my tip, and I let out a groan as my head fell back.

Why the fuck did it feel so good to have her mouth on my dick? Why did just the beginning part of the blowjob already blow any others I’d gotten in the past out of the water? Fuck. I was in too deep with her. Fuckity fuck fuck.

The sound of grunting filled the air, and on the TV, the threesome had changed positions. The girl hung off the side of the bed, laying on her back, her legs spread, and the two men were taking turns sinking their cocks deep within her cunt. Watching them take turns, feeling Lola’s wet, hungry mouth on my cock, was hotter than I ever imagined it would be.

Maybe Roman had the right idea. Watching was fucking hot, and being serviced while watching was even better.

My hips began to thrust of their own accord, and I reclined back, moving my hand to grip the back of Lola’s head, forcing my cock deeper into her throat. She took every inch like a champ, and I didn’t want to think about what that meant. My cock was thick and long, so to be used to something like that…

Damn it. I wanted to kill any man who had his hands on her before this. I wanted to own her, to have her totally and completely, and not just in the way of the Night Slayer. I wanted this girl in my bed every night. Not a relationship with her, but… but more. More than that. I wanted everything.

And the worst part was I knew I shouldn’t.

I had to close my eyes eventually, no longer look at the TV and instead give my full attention to the beautiful girl on her knees before me, on the pleasure threatening to rise up inside of me and drown me. My fingers gripped the back of her damp hair hard, so hard I knew it had to hurt, but that didn’t stop her at all. She liked the pain. The pain made her feel alive, and that was something I could understand.

She and I… we weren’t so different from each other. We were more alike than I wanted to admit.

It didn’t take long for my balls to release the pent-up pressure, for cum to shoot out of my cock and coat her throat and her tongue. My body tensed, my hips bucking beneath her, and I let out a loud groan that, in the end, was more like a growl than anything else.

She was slow to lift her head off my cock, and I loosened my hold on her head, letting her get up. I breathed hard, and though I’d just had an orgasm, I didn’t feel quite done with her yet.

It was then I noticed we weren’t alone anymore; Viper had returned, his short brown hair wet and slicked back, his hazel eyes on the both of us. His sleeves were up, revealing the snake tattoos on his arms. How long he’d been standing there, I didn’t know. How much he’d seen was anyone’s guess… but maybe in the end it didn’t really matter.

Lola was busy wiping the edges of her mouth and fixing her hair, and I bent forward and got my pants, pulling them up and tucking my cock away even though it was still hard. I let the TV continue playing while I moved to the door, closing it behind Viper. Viper said nothing, holding his hands before his stomach, his gaze on Lola and how good she looked in those teeny shorts and that see-through t-shirt.

“Viper,” I spoke once we were closed off from the rest of the house, setting my hand on his shoulder, squeezing it tightly. “I heard tonight was a busy night.” I started to guide us both toward the couch, where Lola was now sitting, sprawled out, watching us with curiosity, the porn on the screen forgotten.

“I… suppose it was,” Viper said, choosing his words carefully. He did not want to boast, and it was clear he didn’t know what the hell I was doing, why I was bringing him closer.

I didn’t quite know, either. I supposed, in the end, I was a bit curious whether or not I’d like to see Lola with someone else. Who better than Viper? He would only be with her because I’d said so, and he’d keep himself away from her when I told him to. I could trust him. I didn’t think he was one of the people who was disloyal to us. Viper and Big Mike were practically like cousins to us. Family.

And family… you treated family differently.

“My guess is you need some relief,” I said, letting him go as I made my way around him and plopped down on the couch, on the part of it that faced where he stood. It was a giant sectional, so there was room aplenty.

Viper said nothing, though he did share a glance with Lola, as if he was starting to understand what the hell I meant by it.

I guess I’d have to spell it out for him, the idiot. So I did: “Lola, help Viper out.” Not as firm of a command as it’d been when it was just us, but I assumed that was because this was… well, this was new to me. I liked this girl more than I should, and yet here I was, forcing her and Viper to do stuff. Didn’t really make sense if you thought too much about it.

But then again, I wasn’t the sanest or sharpest tool in the shed.

Neither of them moved. Lola didn’t even get up off the couch. She was breathing hard, her nipples pointed beneath her shirt, hard little things that drew your eyes even when you were trying not to stare. Viper’s hazel eyes darkened in the dim lighting of the room, his lips drawn into a line, as if he was thinking how to best say no to me.

That’s the thing, though. Viper couldn’t say no to me. He was family to me, practically a cousin, but in the end, he was not on the same level as me. He might be above most of this city, but he was beneath me on the totem pole.

“Do I have to be specific?” I paused, staring daggers at them both. “All right, fine. Lola, I want you on your knees before Viper, and Viper, I want you to fuck her mouth like there’s no tomorrow. Surely you can do that.” Any man with eyes would want to do that to Lola, but I supposed that was the problem. One of them, anyway. We were a family full of problems, and adding Lola to the mix had only invited more.

That did it. Mostly for Lola.

She got off the couch, standing and stretching before sauntering over to Viper, cocking her hip as she looked up at him, as if she had to seduce him with her eyes or something. Come on. I saw the growing bulge in Viper’s pants the moment I’d seen him standing at the door. He definitely had witnessed some of it.

Viper almost looked uncomfortable, like he didn’t want to do this. He actually had the audacity to say, “Maddox, come on. If you want more from her, do more, but don’t involve me.” Trying to sound like he was better than me, like he didn’t want to stick it in her and revel in the pleasure she could bring.

We weren’t stupid here.

Lola stopped, glancing at me over her shoulder, as if she needed me to reaffirm that this was what I wanted. That I wanted to see her give head to Viper.

I simply grinned a sinister, wicked smirk and said, “Do not make me tell you two again.” A whispered threat, because if I had to tell these idiots what to do again, I wouldn’t be happy, and if I wasn’t happy, I’d make damn sure neither of them were. When I wasn’t happy, I tended to get violent, and when I was violent, people tended to get broken and bloody.

I wasn’t allowed to mar Lola’s body, not while she was the opening act for the Gilded Rose, but Viper? Oh, he wasn’t off-limits at all.

Lola sunk to her knees before Viper, and Viper was smart enough, finally, to keep his mouth shut. He said nothing, though he did glance at me when Lola started to undo his pants. I could only imagine the look she gave him right then, how she stared up at him—or maybe she wasn’t looking at him at all. Maybe she was just being a good girl and focusing on the dick that was seconds from springing out.

Was I terrible for making them do this? Debatable, mostly because I never thought I was that bad. Not unless I was angry… and as long as these two played by my rules, I wouldn’t get angry.

Lola’s blonde head was in the way, so I couldn’t see much of Viper’s dick, which was fine. I saw all I needed to as I watched her hands go up to his cock and milk it once or twice before that head moved closer. I knew the very moment she took his length into her mouth because Viper let out an earth-shattering groan, his eyelids snapping shut as if he could not keep them open.

Maybe he didn’t want to see me on the couch, watching it happen, or maybe he knew if he stared down at Lola on her knees, her mouth wrapped around his cock, that he’d lose it immediately.

I sat there, watching, feeling my own cock stir again as that blonde head bobbed back and forth, drawing a melody of sounds from Viper’s chest. I’d never seen Viper let loose, probably because he was always business, always trying to constantly prove himself to my family—my father especially.

Well, guess what? My father wasn’t here right now. It was just us, and right now I called the shots, and I wanted to watch as his cock pumped into her throat.

Lola was all fight, all defiant and crazy, but she knew she had to do as I asked. I didn’t care if this was too much, didn’t give a shit if Sylvester found out about this and hated me for it. My brother could go fuck himself. Or, more likely, he could fuck Lola and whisper into her ear how sorry he was for my behavior.

My hands clenched into fists, and I resisted the urge to get my own dick out and touch myself as I watched. I wanted to, oh, I fucking wanted to, but I didn’t. My eyes were glued on Lola’s head, on the way Viper’s hips had started to thrust a bit as he stood there, receiving the head. I could tell he was trying to fight it, trying not to let his body and the pleasure win out, but it was only a matter of time until he let loose in her mouth and her throat was coated in a cum other than mine.

A strange, smug satisfaction filled me when Viper let out a moan that sounded almost like a growl, and I knew it was time. I knew he could fight the sensation no longer, that his cock was spasming inside her mouth and his tip spraying out his seed. I knew Lola swallowed him down like the greedy girl she was, gobbling up every single drop that came from him.

Lola was slow in pulling her head away, her mouth popping slightly as his dick left her. Viper’s eyes were finally open, but he did everything to avoid looking at me as he stuffed himself away. Lola, on the other hand, cocked her hip as she turned to face me, a smirk on her full, puffy lips. She looked completely disheveled and yet still far too tempting.

“Well?” she asked. “How was your real-life porn, Maddox? I can’t wait until we graduate and get to the double—”

Whatever she was going to say, I didn’t care. I tuned her out. What I did care about, strangely, was the smirk on her face. She shouldn’t be giving me that look. She shouldn’t act like she was currently on top of the world, in charge of us all. She wasn’t. Lola was… she was nothing to us. Absolutely fucking nothing, and she would stay that way.

At least, that’s what I kept telling myself, even as I got up and stormed out of the room.

Lola would drive me mad, and the awful thing was I was already mad to begin with.

Chapter Four – Lola

Viper wasn’t here. I didn’t think he planned on coming, on seeing me off, which was fine. It wasn’t like I needed him to be here to wish me luck. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was due to what Maddox had made us do the other night.

Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t like that was the first time I’d been faced with Viper’s cock. We’d done the nighttime tango a while ago, a secret I didn’t think anyone else knew, so it wasn’t like his steel rod was a stranger to me. It wasn’t.

Ever since that night, though, Viper had pulled himself back from me. He was ten times more silent and stoic than he’d been before, more like his brother, Mike. There was always something to be said about the guys who spoke more with their actions than their words, but with the fact Viper tried his best not to even look at me now… well, it kind of hurt my feelings, you know? Like he was ashamed of me or something.

Hah, ashamed. As if I cared about how Viper felt. I didn’t. I didn’t give a shit about how any of these guys felt.

Alright, alright. That was a lie, but at least I tried, you know? Keeping the distance between me and the others up was hard, especially when this crazy family made me feel not so crazy myself, when they made me want to live and have a life.

Ironic, I know. This family would be the death of me, and although it was a death that would be well-deserved, it would still come too soon.

Carter and Roman had come over, and I was in my room, getting dressed when Roman entered. Mike stood near the door, his thick arms folded across his chest. I did wonder if his cock was like Viper’s, or if he was bigger. I mean, the guy was like a fucking mountain, built like a lumberjack, so you couldn’t blame my mind for going in that direction.

But, anyway, back to Roman.

Roman wore a dark suit with a red shirt beneath it. He looked very devilish, and I tried not to stare at him too hard. My dress was pulled up, but the zipper on my back was undone. It wasn’t like I was flashing him, but still, I felt his eyes rake over me, as if he was used to watching.

Kind of like Maddox that night.

Again, not something I should be thinking about.

“Roman,” I purred out, “to what do I owe this pleasure?” My voice oozed sarcasm and fake manners, and I suddenly felt rather small.

Roman was a giant, tall and refined, with eyes so pitch-black you couldn’t see where the pupils ended and where the color of the irises began. His black hair was slicked back. He was a man in his thirties, a man whose life had hardened his face. Ridiculously handsome in every way, and yet I bet that man never cracked a smile.

Sad, for what kind of life was that?

As if I knew the answer to that question. I didn’t. I couldn’t even pretend to.

Roman was the Luciano’s most trusted hitman, and Carter was his protege. Hitman, assassin, enforcer—really, it depended on the circumstance. The jobs I went out on should’ve probably been his, but he didn’t seem to complain. A night off here and there was always a good thing. Everyone needed some time to kick back and relax.

Roman said nothing, which caused me to turn around and give him my back. “Help a girl out, would you?” I asked, moving to sweep my hair up. Still needed to curl my hair and pin the tendrils to my head—I was going for a classic twenties vibe for the pre-night show—along with my makeup. I still had a while to go until I’d be ready, and after I was all dolled up, I’d put on my heels and my satin gloves, and I’d be out of here with Carter.

I felt Roman’s fingers touch the base of my spine, near the zipper, resisting the urge to lunge forward and get out of his grip as he slowly drew the zipper up. When a man like that touched you, you lost all sense of self. You became whatever he wanted you to be. The devil himself could not hold a candle to Roman Russo.

Once he was done, I let my hair down and stepped away from him.

“You realize,” Roman started, his voice so low and rough it caused goosebumps to rise on my arms. Not many men could say they had a voice to remember, but Roman was one of them. He was one of them, and I could easily see why he was one of the most feared and respected men in the city. “If you fail, whatever they’ll do to you is nothing compared to what I’ll do.”

A threat, a threat that made me smile up at him and catch his dark stare with a girly flash of my teeth. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head,” I purred out, reaching toward him and running a hand along the front of his suit. He was definitely solid under there, wasn’t he? “I will bring Carter back to you, I promise.”

He probably thought I would fuck this up, that I’d get on that stage, in front of everybody, and tell them I was a spy for the Lucianos and that Aaron’s real name was Carter, and he worked for the Luciano’s, too.

Roman’s reflexes were fast, and in the blink of an eye, he had my wrist in his hand, fingers curling around it tightly. A hand as large as his could easily fit around a neck, and I would bet everything I had that any girl that was lucky enough to catch his eye had a lot of rough sex. “Be sure you do,” he growled out, fingers clenching so tightly around my wrist the bones inside felt like snapping, “or whatever hell you’ve been through in your life will seem like a paradise once I’m through with you.”

I said nothing, and he let me go. My jaw ground as he walked out of my room, leaving me alone with Mike. The smile still stuck on my face, but it felt empty, fake, and that’s because it was. Roman didn’t know that I wasn’t afraid of anything this life had to offer. Whatever fear I used to have of death or pain or misery, it was long gone now. I was nothing but a shell pretending to be human.

I would bring Carter back to him, because I knew he cared about him, in his own way. I would do what I could for this family, not because I owed it to them, but because I wanted to stick around for as long as possible.

Being a husk of a person was still more fun than being dead, but if death would knock at my door… I’d open it. I’d open it and welcome it with open arms. It was high past time I’d met my fate.

The room was horribly silent as I started to do my hair. The good thing about hairstyles from back then was the wonders of today’s hairspray. It looked so elegant and pretty, so at odds with the hairstyles from today.

I was in the process of loading up on the hair spray when someone else walked into my room. I thought it was Roman again, or maybe Sylvester to see how much longer I had until I was ready to go, but it was neither of them. It was actually Tony.

Tony, the guy who seemed to hardly fit in with the Lucianos. Tony, who was a bit shorter and thinner than the others, but who seemed kinder all around. His light brown hair was gelled to the side, his green eyes eating me up as he approached me with a smile on his face and dimples on his cheeks.

I couldn’t help but smile back. Might as well change my bedroom door to a revolving door at this rate, not that I minded. I liked having visitors, especially now. Now, when things were starting to get real. Real feelings, real missions, real consequences. I might not be afraid to die, but that didn’t mean Carter felt the same. I had the feeling no one else here had my proclivity towards death.

“You look stunning,” Tony said, coming toward me. I got up, set the can of hairspray down, and met him just in time for a hug. A little weird, because I didn’t know we were at the hugging stage—I hadn’t hugged any of the Luciano men, actually—but here we were.

Me and Tony. Hugging. Who would’ve fucking knew.

“I actually have a favor to ask you,” he whispered into my ear, slowly letting me go. He’d spoken it so lowly, so softly, I doubted Mike had heard him.

Was this a secret favor? I probably wasn’t the best person to ask, but I’d give it a try, whatever it was.

I gave him a nod, grabbing the hair spray can once more and giving my curls another round.

Tony slipped a hand into his pocket. Whatever it was must’ve been small, for the next thing I knew, he was beside me once more, hardly any distance between us. I lowered the can, meeting his green eyes. His back to Mike, he blocked out what he did next, and that was slip whatever it was he’d taken out of his pocket right in between my tits.

It fit snugly there, tucked neatly beneath the red dress, but still. I had no idea what it was.

And why was he hiding it from Mike?

Mmm. It wasn’t any of my business, I supposed.

“If you get a chance,” Tony whispered, leaning towards my ear, his fingers brushing against my other shoulder and causing me to shiver. To Mike, it probably just looked like he was flirting with me. “Give it to Carl.”

Carl? Carl as in Carl DeLuca? Why on this shitty, twisted earth would I ever give anything to Carl DeLuca? Unless… unless it wasn’t a good present. Unless it was something he wouldn’t like, like blackmail or poison or something.

I once asked why the Lucianos didn’t go after the head of the family encroaching on their territory. I had even suggested sending me after them. I might not take them all out, but I’d dwindle their numbers, for sure. Sylvester and Maddox bowed to their father when it came to outright attacking the DeLucas; Daddy Luciano didn’t want a war.

Tony, it seemed, did, and since I’d so recently found out that the DeLucas were more than just an annoying fly buzzing around the Lucianos’ heads—they were actually a threat, a threat that now knew Mario was dead—I was inclined to agree with him.

I’d killed Mario, so it was only natural I leveled the playing field a bit, right? This was all conjecture, I guess, since I didn’t know what it was Tony had slipped between my tits, but still. Once Carter and I got to the Gilded Rose, I’d excuse myself to go to the bathroom, and then I’d see what it was, no Mike glaring over my shoulder.

Tony was slow to pull his head away from the crook of my neck, and I lifted a hand, running my fingers down the side of his face as I whispered, “I will. Aren’t you going to wish me luck? Tell me to break a leg or something?”

Those cute dimples deepened as he murmured back, “Don’t break a leg. Your legs are too fine for that.” Those words might’ve sounded cheesy coming out of anyone else’s mouth, and downright silly coming out of Maddox or Sylvester, but Tony? Somehow, when Tony said them, the smile on my face became genuine.

How the hell could Tony seem so sweet compared to the other men here? Why was he not as dark and twisted as everyone else? I wouldn’t go so far as to say he was the light in the darkness that hung over this house, but he was definitely on his own level. He was Tony, and even though he was surrounded by as much death as any of the Lucianos were, it didn’t affect him.

How I wished I could be like that, still be genuinely happy and sweet in spite of everything that had happened to me. I wasn’t, and I never would be. The sweet little angel I was when I was born never had a chance in this terrible world.

“But I will wish you luck,” Tony added, lifting a hand to the one I still held against his face, pulling it down and bringing it to his lips. He kissed my knuckles softly, never once breaking eye contact with me—not until he let go of my hand and walked away, leaving me to wonder just what the hell had happened.

Tony. I think I might like Tony, as weird as that was. And it was pretty fucking weird, yeah? I mean, what kind of girl was I to not only like the craziness that came with the Luciano brothers, Viper’s quiet venom, but also Tony’s sincerity?

I guess a gal liked what a gal liked. Couldn’t change it. Didn’t know if I would even if I could.

My eyes darted to Mike, who watched me as he always did. He’d seen that encounter, but he didn’t act suspicious or anything. I gave him a smile and got back to work, this time on my face. Not too much makeup; I didn’t need it. My skin was clear and glowing on its own. And, besides, way back when, the makeup trends were different, anyway.

A classic look was what I was going for, and whether or not I achieved it didn’t really matter. I’d be up on that stage, singing my heart out to the Gilded Rose’s most valuable patrons tonight. It was a pre-opening night shindig, a party that the general public couldn’t just waltz into. I knew the Gilded Rose was supposed to be a DeLuca front, but for Carl himself to be there? Well, I guess I’d have to wait and see.

A knock echoed on my door, and I turned to see Sylvester strolling in, wearing a button-up grey shirt tucked neatly into dress pants. I never saw him wearing anything less. It was either a suit or a dress shirt. Never jeans, never t-shirts. I wondered if he took after his father in that way, although, technically, Daddy Luciano wasn’t even his real father. Sylvester was a blonde-haired, blue-eyed man, whereas Maddox had black hair—at least on the side of his head that wasn’t shaved—and equally dark eyes.

Maddox was the stereotypical mafia man. Sylvester? The opposite, but it worked for him.

“It’s about time for you and Carter to go,” Sylvester spoke, eyeing me up as if he was seeing me for the first time. I guess I had that effect on these guys, what could I say? If I had a superpower, it’d be to make the crazy ones go even crazier.

Not sure that was a power I should toot my horn about, but oh well.

“Let me get my shoes,” I said, moving toward my bed, where my sparkling heels lay. Full of beautifully-cut crystals, they were shoes not many people could afford, but to the Lucianos, money was no object. It wasn’t an object to the Hardings, either—though I did wonder what happened to my parents’ fortune, since I’d run away before I was eighteen, and my brother was younger than me.

Ugh, you know what? I didn’t care. Money didn’t mean shit.

Sylvester walked with me to my bed, saying, “Let me.” My hand stopped mere inches from the shoes, and I turned around, standing inches away from Sylvester’s lean body as he reached for them. My breathing hitched; it was impossible to be this close to him, to not smell his manly scent and feel my body go off on its own, my mind wandering, wishing we could do other things right now. Things that didn’t involve me putting on a show for other people. Naked things.

Sex. I meant sex.

Leaning my ass on the side of the bed, I watched as Sylvester took the heels to the floor, kneeling before me. He set them down, measured in going for the nearest foot, his hand feeling quite rough on the soft skin of my ankle. His mere touch sent tingles up my leg, and I felt my thighs clench, wishing that hand could travel up a bit more.

It didn’t, though. It merely put on one heel, and then did the same thing to the other foot.

Sylvester was slow to stand, his breath hot on my face as his blue eyes stared down at me. “I don’t like that you’re going out there without me,” he whispered. His hands found my hips, holding onto me gently, so gently and tenderly it should be an illegal embrace.

I didn’t do gentle. I didn’t do kind or soft. At least… I didn’t think I did.

I thought about quipping that he could always come with us, but his face was an easily recognizable one. Anyone who knew Carter’s face was dead. That was the difference between the two men, and it was why I was pretty much going tonight alone, as shitty as it would make me feel.

Singing in front of a crowd, being put on display… it was like my parents all over again, only this time I couldn’t snap and kill them all.

My lips, a deep red lipstick freshly applied to them, curled into a smile. “I’ll be fine, Sylvester. Don’t worry. I’ve faced worse things in my life than an enemy gang.”

His blonde brows furrowed, his eyes narrowing somewhat. “The DeLuca’s are not a gang.”

“They’re not?” I played dumb.

“No, just like we’re not a gang.”

I tilted my head. “You’re not? Then what are you?” It took everything in me not to grin, not to smile up at him as I teased him.

“We’re a family,” he finally spoke, the hands on my hips digging in slightly. “A family you’re now a part of, Lola. You might not be able to wear the mask tonight, but remember, you’re our angel now. No one else’s.” Sylvester left me with that, pulling away from me without so much as a kiss.

How rude.

He did, however, grab the elbow-length gloves off my dresser and hand them to me. I slid them on, not saying anything, his words repeating in my head: I was their angel now. Their angel of death, their beautiful, fragile, broken beast whose wings were torn and the scars on her back long-since healed.

Tonight I would be their angel who sang for the enemy, lured them in like a siren to crash their ships upon a rocky shore.

Bring it.

The Gilded Rose looked different tonight. Maybe that was because I knew we would have an audience. Me, mainly. Carter—AKA Aaron while we were here—was off with Newton, the owner of this fine establishment and the man who was responsible for hiring me. I was not their only act, but I was the best, or at least I was told. It’s why I was singing tonight, why I’d be singing on their opening night, when the public was welcomed inside the gentlemen’s club.

And I didn’t mean gentlemen’s club like a strip club. Oh, no. I meant it like the old-fashioned clubs you saw in the movies, the ones where the air was filled with smoke more often than not and everyone had their own glass of whiskey. The kind of club that didn’t have dancing or any of that. It was a club that catered to the richer hearts around and not the kids trying to dance and hook up.

There was a band tonight, as there would be for opening night. They were stationed in the back of the stage, and they’d received my setlist the day after I found out I was to be singing here tonight. I’d chosen a variety of older songs, songs that helped me lose myself in a past I’d never seen.

I knew things weren’t so good for a lot of people way back then. I knew there were still inequalities people were fighting against today, women included. I knew that more than most, I think; it’s why I was the Night Slayer.

Way back then, when Frankie was dominating the airwaves, it was a simpler time. Not in the racial or sexist aspects of life, but in general. There were fewer people around, which meant fewer bad people. There was less technology dominating our lives at every turn, less trolls online making fun of everything you did. The music had a finer quality to it. Smooth and easy, no autotune or any of that.

A part of me wished I could go back to that time, but then, with how women were treated—as housewives and mothers only—I knew I’d snap and go on another murdering spree, so it was probably best I didn’t.

After doing a soundcheck and making sure everything with the band was fine, I did slip into the restroom, away from Carter’s eyes, away from Newton and the bouncers and everyone else who worked at the Gilded Rose. No one tried to approach me; I didn’t know if it was because I was the talent or what, but I felt like an outsider.

And I was, but that was okay. I was always the outsider, and I always would be, up until the day I died at the hands of one of the men I’d come to care for. Funny, wasn’t it?

The restroom at the club held a small sitting room—something more restrooms these days lacked—and a few marbled stalls, along with matching sinks. It was all very fancy, all very gaudy; everything was lined in gold, roses sitting on the countertops and pictures hanging on the walls, hence the club’s name.

I went straight into a stall, locked myself in, and pulled out what had been sitting between my tits this entire time, ever since Tony had come to see me in my room. I lifted it in the air, holding it between two fingers, staring at it. Even though I’d never seen anything like it before, I knew what it was. In my heart of hearts, I knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Poison. Inside the small glass vial I held onto was poison. Poison meant for Carl DeLuca, the head of the rival family.

Tony, Tony, Tony, I thought, a smile creeping along my face. What a naughty man you are.

And then, of course, I did wonder: assuming he actually showed up tonight, which we had no reason to believe he would, how the hell was I supposed to slip Carl this stuff without anyone else looking?

I stuffed it back between my tits, knowing the answer before I finished asking myself the question. It was simple, really. I’d have to use the other gift I was given: my looks. I’d have to use my voice to lure him in and my looks coupled with my body to get him alone. Once he and I were alone, well, distracting him would be easy enough.

If Carl DeLuca showed his face at the Gilded Rose tonight, he was a dead man.

As I pushed out of the stall, fixing my hair and running my hands along the dress, I wondered if Daddy Luciano would be grateful, if he’d finally agree to see me and thank me for taking care of his archenemy. He might still hate me for killing one of his sons, but surely it would be evened out a bit. And, besides, I was dying to meet the man that had raised Maddox and Sylvester. They were… they were my kind of crazy.

Then again, Dickless-slash-Mario had been my kind of prey, so there was that.

Regardless, I shouldn’t think of any of that right now, not with the night I had scheduled. I’d be singing for an eternity once the club was full of people who very well might be working for the DeLucas, possibly for the big man himself, and then, if that big man showed up, I’d have to figure out a way to get him alone. I knew the Gilded Rose had a few offices, rooms where he and I could slink back to for some privacy. If I used my body, batted my eyelashes a bit, surely I’d manage to ensnare him.

But we’ll see. He might not even show. All of that might have to wait for a later date.

Pushing out of the restroom, I meandered over to where Carter stood with Newton. Newton was a man in his forties, with dark blonde hair and eyes that whispered dark secrets. It didn’t surprise me at all to know he was close to the DeLucas, that this whole club was basically their front. He looked like a man who knew how to take care of business in more ways than one.

Dangerous. Newton looked dangerous, but that word could be used to describe damn near any guy in this city. This whole place was full of killers and mobsters, people who would wade in blood just to show their loyalty to whichever family they followed.

Newton’s dark eyes landed on me as I approached them, while Carter’s gaze took longer to move to me. Carter hated me, although I think he hated everyone. He just seemed to be the hateful type. Newton, on the other hand, would probably love me if he knew I was the reason Mario was dead, that the Lucianos had lost a son all because of my serial killer tendencies.

Oh, he had to know. After what happened with Danny on the waterfront, I was under no impression the DeLucas and anyone who followed them didn’t know about what happened. They’d been told, and the rumor had spread like wildfire throughout the kingdom that was this putrid city.

“My dear,” Newton spoke, his voice smooth and alluring, like he was used to playing the devil’s advocate, “I have to say, you do look stunning. Even if you couldn’t sing, I’m sure our patrons would still love to see you up on that stage.”

It was meant as a compliment, and I tried to smile, to thank him for basically saying I was so beautiful I didn’t need any other talents. Yes, yes, the world ran on beauty. You had it easier if you were pretty, if you were the type of gorgeous that made men want to fuck you and women want to be you. What Newton didn’t know, though, was that my looks were not something I was grateful for. In fact, more days than not I wished I looked different.

But that wasn’t possible, not unless I took a knife to my skin—and if I was going that route, I might as well just let Maddox do it, since he had a thing for knives.

“How long do we have until the doors open?” I asked, sounding as helpless and girly as I possibly could, with nothing but the show on my brain. Oh, yes, I could not wait to get my ass up on that stage and sing for a bunch of strangers, could not wait until I graced this club with my voice.

I hope you sensed the sarcasm there, because it was loaded with it. I could not want the opposite enough, really. A gal like me might be used to putting on a show, but that didn’t mean I liked doing it when I was forced to, and this? This was definitely not my choice.

Then again, most everything in my life hadn’t been my choice, so here I was.

Newton made a flick of his wrist, revealing he wore a watch beneath his suit. “Just less than thirty minutes. Five minutes before, I’ll take you backstage. Once we’re open, once the guests are settled, I’ll make an announcement, welcoming them all to the Gilded Rose, tell them I have some beautiful entertainment set up for the night, and that’ll be your cue to walk out and join me on the stage, where you’ll take over.”

Seemed easy enough.

Newton was slow to cock his head, studying me. He did not eat up my appearance as others might’ve, but he did stare hard at me, like he knew I was hiding something. “Nervous?”

His question came out of the blue, and I glanced between him and Carter, finding Carter’s green eyes were dark with shadows, a stern, deadly expression on his face. The man really did not like being here with me, though I couldn’t blame him. It was like he thought I was going to fuck this up on purpose, get both him and I caught.

No. After all, I’d made a promise to his dear Roman; I would bring us both back from this, and I would do it again and again, however long it took. However long I was forced to sing here.

“No,” I said, earning myself a smile from Newton. “I don’t get nervous. I’m always ready to put on an act. It’s in my blood.” Not a lie, and that could reference more than just what I had to do tonight. Everything in my life was an act, in one way or another. It was ridiculously obscene how broken I was, and yet here I stood, somehow still kicking.

The owner of the Gilded Rose laughed. “Good for you, dear.” He had a habit of calling me dear. I was not the kind of gal who appreciated that. I was not his dear, nor would I ever be. I was… well, I guess I wasn’t anyone’s dear.

Time seemed to crawl, until it didn’t. That’s how it always was. When you were waiting for something, it felt like you waited forever, but the few moments before everything would change, time sped up, catching up with itself. Newton took me into the backstage area, right behind a curtain. I could see nothing of the club from where I stood in the dark, the band behind me. They were ready, and once I heard Newton address the people in the audience, I’d step out of the curtain and join him in the front and center of the stage. I assumed then the curtain would open and the band would be revealed to all… and then I’d start to sing.

I stood there, the beginnings of a smile on my face, a smile that would grow once I stepped out. The band was almost silent behind me, and soon enough we heard Newton take the microphone and start addressing the people who’d been invited tonight to get a taste of what the Gilded Rose was about.

“Hello, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the Gilded Rose. I know it’s been a long time coming, but we’re finally in business, and now that we are, we aren’t going away anytime soon.” He earned some claps at that, and I couldn’t help but wonder if that was a subtle reference to the DeLuca family flexing their money and power. Newton chuckled at the applause, quickly adding, “Thank you, thank you. But we all know this wouldn’t be possible without you. Each and every one of you.”

Newton sounded like he’d rehearsed the whole thing over and over, almost like he was reading from a script. I zoned out, needing time to speed up a bit more so we could get on with it. Enough with the ass-kissing. Let me get on that stage and sing so the night could be over with.

I wasn’t nervous. I just wanted to get on with things. All this waiting… I’d just rather not. I’d rather not be here to begin with, but alas, I didn’t have much of a choice in that. The Lucianos wanted me here, and here I was. It sucked.

It all fucking blew chunks was what it did.

“I have a special surprise for you all tonight. I have had countless of acts, all auditioning to become a regular act here—so much talent, and I’m sure you’ll get to know them all eventually—but the first I want you to meet is my favorite. She’s beautiful, and she sounds like an angel. Let me introduce to you, Dolly Queen!”

Yeah, Dolly Queen. Not my idea for a name, but it wasn’t like I could use my own, so I could thank the Lucianos for that horrible choice of a name.

Holding my head high and my shoulders squared, I pushed out of the curtain, almost blinded by the stage lights shining down on me from above. Newton stood ten feet away, near the microphone stand that was stationed at the front curve of the stage. I moved to his side, smiling out at the patrons of this place. Men and women, but mostly men. All of them were older; I would say no one in here besides Carter and I was younger than forty.

As I stood beside Newton, gazing out at the people lounging around in the leather chairs, smoking and drinking, I saw many of them nodding or whispering amongst themselves, immediately judging me based on my appearance.

God. I wanted to kill them all. Each and every one of them. I wanted to cut their throats and stain the new floor in this place with their blood. I wanted to hear them gasp and gurgle for air as they choked on their own blood. Was that too much to ask?

Yes, it apparently was, because the next thing I knew, the curtains were opening behind me and Newton was off the stage. It was just me. Me and my looks. Me and my voice. Me and the band behind me.

This… there was no telling how this was going to go. With sudden bloodlust in my veins, it was more difficult than it should’ve been to inch closer to that microphone. I tossed one look behind me at the band, giving them a nod, and they started playing the set.

I sang.

I sang for these strangers who judged me, belted out song after song for this group of people I wanted so badly to slaughter. I channeled my inner Frankie as I imagined dancing from table to table, smashing glasses into skulls and taking their cigars and burning holes into their flesh with them.

When it came to murder, my imagination was wonderfully vivid, let’s just say. I could practically smell the metal twang of blood in the air as I sang, making love to that microphone as if it could save me from all of this. It couldn’t. Nothing and no one could.

Carter stood near the bar, watching with a serious glower on his face. He did not look thrilled to see me on that stage. He was not as good at playing the part as I was. As my manager, you’d think he would be happy I’d finally landed a long-term gig. I mean, that was the lie we were perpetuating, wasn’t it? He made no moves to try to hide the expression he wore, and his face read murderous.

But no one was looking at Carter. No one paid any attention to the sullen, brooding man near the bar. Every single pair of eyes was on me, even as they whispered amongst themselves. How I wished I could know what they said to each other.

My eyes scanned the club, and I didn’t see anyone who screamed I’m Carl DeLuca, head of the DeLuca crime family, poison me. I mean, sure, he might not outright ask me to poison him, but it was my imagination, so I could imagine whatever the hell I pleased.

I’d never seen a picture of Carl, nor had I been told what to look for, how to separate him from the crowd. I didn’t know how old he was. I didn’t think Daddy Luciano was that old, since his sons were only in their twenties, and the only reason I knew that was because I lived in their fucking house. I knew nothing of the DeLucas. I’d come in here blind tonight, and I didn’t particularly like it.

I found a man sitting by himself off to the side, sipping a clear glass of some tawny liquid. I could be staring at Carl DeLuca himself right now and not even know it. The small glass vial held between my tits might have to wait to get used; I wouldn’t go around pouring it in random people’s drinks. I had to be sure. Like, beyond one hundred percent sure.

My setlist lasted forever, it felt like. I spent an eternity up on that stage, performing for a group of people I honestly wanted to see dead. They might be strangers to me, but that didn’t change the fact that I hated them. Hated their haughty attitudes and the way they carried themselves. Oh, I fucking loathed the way they whispered into each other’s ears, like they were talking about me. Judging me.

People like these, they thought they were gods among men. They thought their money proved they were better than everyone else. People who wore clothes once, people who bought a new car instead of getting their old one fixed anytime there was a problem with it… they were the type of people I would’ve grown up around, the type of people I had to deal with growing up.

None of them cared. None of them looked at me twice, even though I was fairly sure my misery was obvious when I was younger. Not a single person had lifted a finger to help me, and because of that, I hated them all. I hated these people based on the rich bastards and bitches from my past.

My setlist was over what felt like hours later. I didn’t really sing that long, but it sure as fuck felt like it. I gave a short bow of my top half after it was said and done, while the audience gave me some applause, and then I returned backstage as the curtain closed. The band was done for the night; they started packing up as music began playing on the speakers overhead: a slow, smooth jazz.

Of course the Gilded Rose would be open longer than my set; I’d bet anything it’d be open well into the night and early morning. People like these… they had no care at all for time, because they could make their own rules, write their own rulebook and follow it whenever they wanted.

I stood in the darkness of the backstage area, glancing down at my gloved hands. I blinked, and suddenly my hands were free of gloves, my skin bare.

Only it wasn’t, because both my hands were covered in blood.

It was just a quick, fleeting sensation, my mind playing tricks on me, as it often did, but it still felt so real. It looked real. It was like I could feel the warm, wet, sticky blood between my fingers instead of the soft fabric of the elbow-length gloves.

I must’ve looked silly standing there, staring at my hands. It was a damned good thing I was away from the crowd, and the only people who saw me were the band—and they didn’t give a shit about me. They carried on with their packing up, disappearing one by one until I was left utterly alone.

Alone. But I was never truly alone, was I? How the fuck could I be alone when the memories that haunted me made me feel so suffocated and stifled?

Always there. Always there to remind me of my past, the one thing I wanted so desperately to forget. I was not the person I should’ve become. I was not the Lola I should be, and it was all their fault. All his fault.

All my fault.

I let it go on for so long. I should’ve done something sooner. I should’ve tried harder, done more—

My spiraling thoughts were interrupted by Newton, who’d come backstage wearing a smile. “Ah, there you are,” he said, flashing me his perfect teeth. When he smiled, he looked younger. A handsome enough man, I supposed. “Come. I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who are dying to meet you, dear.”

Again with the dear. I wanted to correct him, to tell him to stop calling me that, but I swallowed it down and followed him out of the backstage area like a good little girl, like someone who was just trying to get through the night.

When we walked out, I saw that Carter was talking to a pair of older gentlemen. His I’m going to kill you face had lessened, probably because he had to play it cool. Newton and I didn’t go toward him, though, so it left me to wonder what Carter was talking about with those two guys.

I didn’t have much time to wonder, because soon enough, we were jumped by a woman who wore a fur scarf around her neck, shiny earrings dangling from her head. Her hair was a pretty blonde, cut short and curled at the ends. Her eyes were a dark brown, and they twinkled when she pounced on us. If I had to guess, she was in her early forties. Pretty, hardly any wrinkles on her face, though I bet that was because she wore perfectly contoured makeup.

“Dolly Queen,” the woman spoke, offering me her hand—also gloved, though her gloves were black and short. “What an interesting name.”

I gave her a smile, shaking her hand. “Thank you.” Not sure if I should’ve thanked her or not for that, but I was still out of it after dissociating behind the stage.

“Newton,” she spoke, “would you mind leaving us? I’d love to chat with your newest talent for a few.” She gave Newton a smile, and Newton bowed his head before walking away, not saying a single thing.

Hell, the least he could’ve done was introduce us, but of course not. It left me wondering just who the hell this lady was. There were no men hovering nearby, which led me to think she was alone here. I couldn’t remember if she’d been sitting with anyone during my performance or not. Now I wished I would’ve paid better attention.

“Come sit with me, darling,” she said, turning on her heels and walking off. She wore a black dress, its lengths hugging her body tightly, a cut on the back of it just above her knees.

I followed her to a table off to the side, away from most everyone else. It had a rounded leather seat, and she sat down, patting the space beside her. The fur around her neck fell off a shoulder, which she was quick to fix.

“You have one of the most beautiful voices I’ve ever heard,” she went on, studying me, as if I held dozens of secrets she could decipher. “Where did Newton find you?”

I forced out a smile, not sure how to respond to that question. If I told her we found him, it might make me seem a little desperate, and for whatever reason, I did not want this woman to think of me as desperate. There was something about her, something so refined and regal. She wasn’t hoity-toity, the kind of rich that was gaudy and ugly. No, this woman, whoever she was, reminded me of the kings and queens of centuries past, a kind of person who was not quite like the rest.

“That’s all right, we all have our secrets,” she spoke, leaning back in the seat as she watched me. “You’re not from this city.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yes, but only to people like me.”

“And who are you?”

My question must’ve been amusing to her, for she chuckled. “All you need to know about me, Dolly Queen, is that I know everything that goes on in this city.” Her eyes squinted a bit, and she leaned closer to me, whispering, “Everything.”

I did not know what to say to that. Maybe it was the nagging feeling in my body, but the way she spoke it, the way she currently stared at me, I wondered if this woman, somehow, someway, did know everything. If she knew that I was a spy for the Lucianos. But if that was the case, why wasn’t she running and telling? I was certain nearly every person here had a gun on them. I could very well not walk out of this club alive.

My death was always in the cards, and even now, the threat of it hung over my head, but I didn’t want it to come. Not yet. Not now, not tonight. I wanted to go back home… to the Lucianos.

Home. It was kind of funny, wasn’t it? They were my home now.

“I have the feeling your addition to this club will change things,” the woman spoke.

I could not sit quietly any longer, so I asked, “What do you mean? I’m only a singer—”

“With a face like that, I doubt your only talent is singing. Beautiful women tend to have many talents. I was known for my own years ago,” she said, taking on a wistful tone that made me realize there was so much more to this stranger than I could possibly know. “I was forced to stop when I lost my dear sister, but talents like mine—and like yours—are eternal. They never disappear.”

“What kind of talent did you have?” It was clear this woman was playing by her own rules, that she didn’t want to tell me who she was. A quick glance in Carter’s direction told me he was still in deep conversation with those two men, so he wasn’t looking over here. It was up to me to try to figure out just who the hell this woman was and why she felt so….

So powerful.

Her lips curled into a smile, and she wrinkled her nose, saying, “That is a secret, but let’s just say I used to be a royal who liked to get her hands dirty.” She gave me a wink, and then she started to slide out of the booth, standing. “Unfortunately, I have to go. Thank you for your time, Dolly Queen. I look forward to seeing you again.” With a smile and wink, she was gone, and I watched her go, wondering what that was all about.

I did have the peculiar feeling that I would see her again, whoever she was. When she said she was a royal who liked to get her hands dirty… well, it reminded me of me, really. I was Lola Harding, not royal but an angel, and now I was an angel of death.

I couldn’t say how long I sat there, mulling over what happened, replaying the short conversation in my head, but it was a few minutes at least, a few minutes until I was no longer alone. Newton stood near the table, extending a hand toward me.

“Someone else wishes to meet you,” he said. “As I imagined, you are the star of the night.”

Slowly taking his hand, I let him help me get to my feet. He did not continue holding my hand, but he did corral me away from the bar, away from the other lounges where the other patrons sat, smoking and talking. Instead, he led me to a side door, the one he’d taken Carter into when they’d discussed my hiring. I’d thought the door led right to an office, but it actually led to a stairwell.

There was an upstairs to this place. Who knew?

Stairs were a tricky thing in heels and a dress, but I managed. Upstairs was an office, big enough to have two walls of windows. One wall overlooked the club; I guess I never did glance up to see the dark windows there. Through the other wall’s windows, you could see outside, the street before the club and the surrounding buildings. The world had been encased in darkness, not even the moon peeking out from behind the clouds.

The office was dark, the only light on a lamp on the desk. Newton and I, I discovered, were not alone in the room.

A man stood near the windows that overlooked the club, his hands behind his back. He wore a suit, but from his back I could not tell who he was. Still, my heart started to pound a bit harder at the possibility I was meeting the head of the DeLuca family. Why on earth he would want to meet me, a lowly singer, I had no idea.

Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers. I did say if I met Carl DeLuca tonight, he would die.

“Mr. DeLuca,” Newton spoke, “I’ve brought Dolly Queen for you.” Well, at least he didn’t call him dear, I supposed.

When the man near the floor to ceiling windows turned around and I saw his aged, wizened face, I knew for a fact I stood staring at Carl DeLuca. I didn’t need an introduction. Some things you just knew. Instinct. And this man, this man who must’ve been at least sixty years old, was the target of the night.

“Thank you,” the man spoke, his eyes glazing over me as he stared at Newton. “Bring us something to drink, will you?”

Newton bowed his head, and then he was gone, the office door swinging shut, temporarily leaving me alone with the head of the rival family. I wondered if he’d get as pissed off as Sylvester if I called the DeLucas a gang. I mean, what the hell was the difference between a gang and a crime family? Weren’t they kind the same thing, when you got down to it?

We stood, at least fifteen feet in between us. Neither one of us moved an inch, but we did each study one another, as if we could find out each other’s secrets. Suddenly the small glass vial between my tits seemed to weigh a ton. Could he see it? Was it noticeable? No one had said a word about what I’d tucked between my breasts all night, but maybe everyone was just trying to be polite.

What if he came closer and glanced at my tits and saw the top of the vial? I bet he’d try to kill me. I’d fight back, but if I killed him, I doubted I’d be walking out of this club alive.

Fuck. And Tony wanted me to poison him? How the hell was I supposed to do that and live to tell the tale? Unless… unless Tony didn’t care if I came back tonight, which hurt more than I wanted it to. If he was okay with me dying here tonight—and, by extension, Carter too—he was more callous and uncaring than I thought he was.

He had light brown hair, a set of tawny amber eyes—much warmer of a brown color than I was used to here. Everyone who had dark eyes seemed cold, almost, like their eyes were the gateway to their souls, and if you peeked inside, you saw nothing pretty. Carl DeLuca, on the other hand, was almost disarming.

Shit. Had to be extra careful, because it was the ones that made you feel at ease that could destroy you the most.

“Hello,” I said, sounding quite awkward. I almost winced as I spoke, but then I decided to own it. Yeah, being dragged up here to meet the head of the DeLuca family was something I did every day. Totally. I was fine with this.

Carl’s lips tightened into a smile, and for the life of me, I couldn’t read him. I had no idea what he was thinking or why I was up here, why he’d want to see me alone. Unless… unless he wanted something from me, like my body. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. It might make distracting him and poisoning him easier, but… but I didn’t want to use my body like that. Not tonight. It just felt wrong.

We must’ve stared at each other for a while, a long while, because eventually Newton returned with two glasses, along with a decanter full of some amber liquid. He set everything down on the desk, popping off the crystal lid of the decanter and pouring some of that stuff into each glass.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” Newton questioned, ignoring me as he stared at Carl.

The older man shook his head, and Newton took his leave, once again shutting me in a room alone with the head of the rival family. I didn’t know who was in more danger right now: me or him? A man like that, I bet he’d seen a lot, done a lot. But then again, I was the fucking Night Slayer, a serial killer, so I could hold my own if it came down to it.

Maybe death would come for me tonight.

Carl moved toward the desk, reaching for both glasses. He picked them each up, slowly moving to stand before me, offering me the one in his left hand. I took it, my gloved fingers brushing against his. Standing so close to him now, I could see the weariness on his face, the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. Living the life he surely had, I was certain it had aged him prematurely.

“To the angels of the night,” Carl spoke, lifting his glass in a toast.

My gut hardened at his choice of words, but I forced myself to raise my own glass and clink it with his, echoing, “To the angels of the night.” Such a terrible toast, he really had no idea. The fool stood two feet away from a goddamned serial killer, and he was too ignorant to know it.

A serial killer who used to have a death wish, a serial killer who used to fantasize about the electric chair and being put to death in infamy. Those days were gone, thanks to the fucking Lucianos, which was why I didn’t try to outright attack him.

Patience. I’d wait to see if I had an opening, and if not, no harm, no foul. It wasn’t like killing him was my mission tonight. I was literally only here to sing and spy and integrate myself with these people, see if I could learn anything that would be of use to the Lucianos. Killing Carl DeLuca would just be a bonus, but I wouldn’t do it if it meant I would die here tonight.

No, I wanted to go home to them. If Tony got upset with me for not trying harder, well, that would be his problem, not mine.

“And where did Newton find you?” Carl spoke, his fingers still wrapped around his glass. If he put it down, if he turned his back to it, then I’d have my chance. Of course, I still ran the risk of him turning and seeing me pour the poison into his drink, but that might just have to be a risk I had to take.

“Everyone is so curious where Newton found me,” I spoke, setting my glass on the desk, hoping to give him the idea of doing the same. “Does it really matter?”

Carl gave me a slight, strained smile. “Once you’ve lived as many years as me, you’ll realize that even the most seemingly unimportant things can actually be very important. I would never claim to know everyone in this city—there are too many people for that. However, I would say I know everyone of importance. With the way you struck the audience, you’re more than a singer.”

I wasn’t quite sure what he was getting at, so I kept quiet, hoping I looked the part of a confused but curious girl who might’ve gotten in over her head by accepting a gig at this club.

“Let me fill you in on this city,” he spoke, stepping towards me. His eyes never once dropped to my tits, so I had to hand it to him. This was a professional meeting, though I still wasn’t sure what the whole point of it was. “It is unlike any other city I’ve been to. It is not run by the politicians or the mayor. It’s run by my family.”

Or the Lucianos, but go on, I thought.

“Anyone who’s important is in our pocket,” Carl stated, so matter-of-factly. “Whether or not you prove to be important to this club is yet to be seen, but if you do, know that you will become important to Newton, and therefore important to me. We protect our own, but, that said, there are still those who seek to destroy us.”

Finally, I spoke, “What are you talking about?” The way he talked, it was like we were caught in a movie, stuck in Gotham or something.

He said nothing, slow to set down his glass on the desk near mine. All the while he stared at me, as if he could peel back my flesh and gaze into my heart and soul, read my mind. He couldn’t, but the intensity of his stare did make me feel uncomfortable.

These people. This fucking club. I was going to go nuts here—and I was already nuts, so that was saying something.

Carl was even more measured in moving to stand near the glass wall that overlooked the club below, his hands held behind his back. I almost couldn’t believe it. Was this… was this really my chance? I hesitated, inching closer to his drink on the desk.

“In plainer words,” Carl spoke, gazing down at the club, “you might find yourself a target here. The more you work here, the more well-known you’ll become in this city, I don’t doubt. My enemies… they are unscrupulous, willing to do anything to try to get at me and my family—”

He didn’t seem to be turning around anytime soon; he reminded me of one of those cheesy villains in the movies. The ones that didn’t know when to shut up and stop talking. The monologues. Had to have a monologue if you were a powerful bad guy. It was in the rulebook.

Staring at the back of his head, I reached in between my tits and pulled it out, quickly unscrewing the cap and pouring the ounce of liquid into his drink. I had no idea if it would make it taste different or not, if he would keel over right away or if it would take a few minutes. Either way, once he sipped that drink, I had to get out of here as quickly as possible.

“You might think yourself a lowly singer, an entertainer, but that doesn’t mean they won’t try to use you,” Carl was busy saying as I tucked the bottle back between my tits. As far as I could tell, the addition of the poison into his glass hadn’t changed the color of his drink, though I had no idea if it gave off an odor or something.

Guess I’d find out.

“And if, say,” Carl paused, turning around to stare at me. By then, I had my own drink back in my hands, acting as if I’d just taken another sip. “They try to turn you…” He let his voice trail off, stepping closer to me, stopping only when he stood less than six inches from me, standing at least half a foot taller than me. Not too impressive in the physical aspect, but he radiated power nonetheless.

My spine automatically straightened at his nearness, and I fought the urge I had to slink away.

Carl reached for his glass. We stood just beside the desk, so he was able to grab it without breaking eye contact with me, without giving me room to breathe. “I will make sure that pretty face of yours makes every passerby scream in terror.”

So if the Lucianos turn me against the DeLucas, Carl will make me regret it. Too bad I was already working for them, so his threat kind of slid right off me. Plus, this pretty ole face of mine wasn’t exactly something I was proud of, so that wasn’t the kind of threat that would keep me up at night, worried.

Actually, I didn’t think there was anything he could’ve said that would affect me like that. I wasn’t afraid of death, nor was I afraid of pain. Whatever he had, bring it on, motherfucker. He ain’t never seen the likes of me before.

I said nothing, watching as he downed the rest of his drink. Once he was done, once his posturing and threatening was over, I stepped back and took a tiny sip of my own drink, cocking my head as I gave him a million-dollar smile. “Do you threaten everyone you meet, or am I the only lucky one?”

Carl smirked, moving to sit behind the desk, which I was fairly certain was technically Newton’s spot, but he wasn’t here, so I guess the high-backed leather chair was up for grabs. He leaned back in it, his wizened eyes staring at me, hardly blinking. “To not be cautious would be to welcome disaster. With a face like yours, Dolly, you’re a weapon. Don’t pretend you aren’t aware of it.” He reached for the decanter, pouring himself more.

I needed to get out of here, in case that stuff started to kick in. And, anyway, Carl DeLuca talking about my pretty face so much was making me itch. Also giving me the nearly uncontrollable urge to scratch out my own eyes but hey, that might just be my psychosis peeking through.

I moved to stand before him across the desk, setting down my glass for the final time. “If there’s nothing else, I would like to return to Aaron.”

“As long as my message is clear, you may go.” He waved a hand at me, as if shooing me. Hah. What a guy. I kind of wanted to lunge across the desk and slam his head into the crystal decanter, but I managed to resist.

I walked out of there holding onto my sanity by my teeth, which was to say, just barely. My heeled feet took the stairs down as quickly as they could, and I came out into the club, feeling like I could finally breathe easy again. Technically I shouldn’t feel at ease until I was back at the Luciano house, but as long as I wasn’t with Carl, I’d consider that a win.

The sound of smooth jazz played on the speakers above, and I made my way to Carter, itching to get the fuck out of here. Putting this place in the rearview mirror, at least for tonight, was numero uno on my list of things to do.

Whatever was in that vial wasn’t instant, and it must not have been detectable, for Carl didn’t act like his drink had tasted funny. I didn’t want to push my luck, though. Time to get the hell out of dodge.

Carter was no longer caught in conversation with the pair of men, and when he saw me, he let out a sigh. I moved to stand beside him just as he muttered under his breath, “Where did you go?”

I gestured to the door. “I think we should get out of here.” I wasn’t about to tell him that I’d met the big bad Carl DeLuca—although, I supposed the man never did introduce himself, so technically he could be anyone.

He wasn’t, though. I knew that man was Carl DeLuca. I knew it in my heart. Newton might not have said his first name, but I knew.

Carter went to find Newton, telling him some poor excuse that I was tired and needed to rest. Newton would have our check for tonight during our next act—my next act. Which would be the official opening night of this club. I could not stress how I could not wait for that night to come.

Sarcasm, because I totally could wait. In fact, I could never step foot in the Gilded Rose again and be a happy human. Well, as happy as a gal like me could be, which wasn’t much I guess. Eh, whatever.

All I knew was that Carter and I were out of that club soon enough, and I was finally able to relax during the drive to the Luciano house. Carter took a roundabout way, the long way, doing a few circles around city blocks just to make sure no one was following us. Couldn’t be too careful.

“So?” Carter spoke, his voice low. Nothing but the dim light from the dashboard of the car lit the dark space between us, and I stared out of the window, watching the scenery go by. When I said nothing, when I didn’t even look at him, he said, “Where the fuck were you?”

“Meeting some of the Gilded Rose’s patrons,” I spoke, not sure if I should tell him about Carl DeLuca or not. If he was there, wouldn’t he have seen him? Oh, God. What if I poisoned the wrong man? “Newton introduced me.” At the thought of killing the wrong guy, I finally turned my head and stared at Carter.

He had his eyes on the road, his jaw tense. Carter hated being out with me, pretending to be my manager, I knew. Trust me, the feeling was mutual. More than mutual. I already had enough dicks. I did not need another big one to add to the mix.

“Did you see Carl DeLuca?”

At that, he glanced at me, dark brows furrowing. “No, I didn’t. Why? Did you?”

I blinked. “Well, considering I’ve never seen or met the man in my life before, hmm. Let me think on it.”

“Your sarcasm is not very good.”

“No, I guess it’s not. I’m nowhere near as good at sarcasm as I am at killing.”

Carter managed to chuckle at that, but his earlier reply left me to wonder if that man upstairs had indeed been Carl DeLuca, or if it’d simply been another DeLuca relaying a message for him. Then again, with how Newton had acted around him, reverent and respectful, who the fuck else could that older man have been?

Ugh. Why didn’t this position come with a picture book with labels? There were too many players on the board, too many faces and names, some of which I still didn’t know. I mean, that girl with the fur scarf was one of them, for starters. The way she carried herself, like old money… was she a DeLuca, too?

“I don’t know how close Newton is to the DeLucas, but I doubt Old Luke came out just to see you sing,” Carter eventually remarked. “I didn’t see him. And, even if I did, it isn’t like we could’ve done something.”

Old Luke. That must be Carl’s nickname. What a weird one, but whatever. Who was I to judge? My nickname was the Night Slayer, so I guess I didn’t have much room to judge Old Luke.

“Why not? After that letter he sent to the house, I figured we’d get him back,” I said. “And with Danny turning—” Not to mention the fact Danny had said there were others—there was a whole lot we had to get back at the DeLucas for.

Not that it was my fight. It wasn’t. But since I was the Lucianos’ bitch, it kind of was by association.

“Any move that’s made against the DeLucas has to be smart,” Carter growled out. “Trust me, I don’t like sitting back and letting them turn our people and take our territory, but right now, until Richie says otherwise, we sit back and wait.”

Sit back and wait. Oh, yeah. That should be fun.

Except, uh, I didn’t exactly do that, did I?

Chapter Five – Lola

One evening I sat in one of the lounges in the house, watching the latest Bachelorette news. A guilty pleasure if I ever had one. Of course, being in my current position, watching it, it did make me wonder why she couldn’t keep all of her favorites. Why not? I mean, as long as everyone was okay with it, why the fuck not?

Granted, many of the guys probably wouldn’t be okay with that, but come on. Love was love, right?

Viper stood near the door, keeping at least fifteen feet between us. The poor idiot had hardly spoken to me since Maddox had made me go down on him, and I didn’t know why. The fool wouldn’t even let himself be seduced when he and I were alone at night. It was like, somehow, we took ten steps back thanks to Maddox.

I wasn’t saying I wanted a relationship with the tatted-up man, but I didn’t like the way he treated me right now. Like I was nothing more than a job. And, yeah, I was, but that didn’t mean I had to like it, you know? It was nice to be looked at like I was special, like he enjoyed watching over me.

Not that he wanted to use me. Not that he hated me, even if he did, deep down.

“Do you believe in love at first sight, Viper?” I spoke. His hazel eyes moved toward me, but he made no moves to speak, of course. I lay on the couch, my legs bare beneath my pajama shorts. “I don’t. I don’t know if I even believe in love. I mean, I get the physical aspect of it, of course, but the complete devotion? I just don’t… I don’t know.”

My fingers toyed with the remote in my hands, and I sighed as I got up, turning the television off. It was early yet, but suddenly I felt like going to bed.

I got up, silently moving past Viper as I headed to my room. Viper stalked me, like he always did, my silent watchman at nighttime and the evening hours. His sleeping schedule must be fucked, but that wasn’t something I should worry about.

I didn’t shed my pajamas as I crawled into bed, needing to feel the extra bit of fabric on my body. The room was dark, and I had my back turned to the door, where Viper stood after shutting it behind him. Ever watchful. Ever stoic. Ever fucking annoying.

At least, he was, until I heard him say under his breath, “I do.”

Eyebrows creasing, I rolled over and stared at the vague outline that was his shadow. “What?”

It took him a moment to say, “You asked me if I believed in love at first sight. I do.”

I tucked my hands beneath my pillow, biting my bottom lip as I let his answer sink in. Not at all what I thought he’d say. Viper believed in love at first sight. It was almost funny, but not. Love… I might laugh at it, I might hate it. I might feel like I was too broken to ever feel anything remotely close to it, but sometimes I was envious.

Those people who had normal lives, the ones who weren’t broken and destroyed in their childhoods, how nice it must be, to be able to give yourself to another person without worrying how they’d hurt you. And then, when the relationship failed, to do it over and over again until you died.

Humans. We were such hopeless romantics, in the end.

“Why don’t you believe in love?” Viper questioned, his voice sounding far too soft and tender in the darkness, almost like he was at my bedside and not at the door, like he was near, his voice caressing my ear.

A gal could wish.

The answer to his question was complicated, but at the same time, far too simple. I believed there was obsession, possession, all the stuff that made life interesting, and yet that wasn’t love. Did I believe in feelings that could swallow you whole and refuse to spit you out? Did I believe in that silly little word that meant so much more than anyone could ever explain?

“Why don’t you ask my parents?” I muttered, giving him my back once again, refusing to say the other part of it, or my brother? My brother, the good child. The good son. The angel who took my place. He had swiftly become the light of my parents’ lives, and yet he was no angel. How could a person like me ever believe in love when I’d never had a shred of it from the people who were supposed to love me unconditionally?

A sham. It was all a sham.

“Your parents… you killed them.” He spoke it as a statement, because it was true. I had killed them, made sure they’d never be able to hurt me ever again. “Why didn’t you kill your brother?”

I regretted my meltdown in the bathroom, how I’d punched the mirror and cut up my hands and tried to cut myself with one of the bigger shards. What I regretted even more was the story I’d told them all afterward. They knew my deepest, darkest secret, my vast, vile shame. They knew it, and I hated them for it.

No one should know but me.

“I guess I was scared,” I murmured, chuckling to myself in the darkness. “Who knew that, deep down, I’m still scared of that bastard?” The smile I wore with my face against the pillow was one of bitterness. “How crazy is that?”

I wanted him to tell me it was stupid, that I was dumb for even bringing it up. That I couldn’t be more crazy… or less. I was content with where I was—mentally. No longer stuck in that house, in a vicious cycle that killed my soul day in and day out.

At least, I should be content. I shouldn’t want more. This thing I had with these Lucianos… whatever I had with Viper, it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. I’d killed their youngest, and because of that, I would die. I could not let myself forget that fact.

I felt him sitting on the edge of the bed, weighing it down. He must’ve moved silently through the night, quiet as a mouse. I did not roll over to face him, though my breath did catch in the back of my throat when he said what he said next: “It’s not crazy, Lola.”

My heart did something weird in my chest, skipped a beat, a funny flip-flop feeling. The way he said it, like he whole-heartedly believed it, made me feel… things. Certain things I couldn’t name, things I couldn’t describe.

There was a long pause before Viper whispered, “You’re not crazy.”

I lay there, my eyes open and staring at my pillow in the darkness. Hearing that… what was I supposed to say? What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t—I didn’t know. He sounded so sincere, so genuine when he said I wasn’t crazy, but he was a liar. I was. I was so crazy.

I had to be, because if I wasn’t… if I wasn’t crazy, then I might be other things.

Sad. Depressed. Hollow.

If I was crazy, at least I had that going for me, you know? Take away my insanity and I had nothing left, nothing worthwhile. I would be just another person who needed some psychiatric help.

No, let me be crazy. Let me own it. Let me bury the eternal pain I felt by bringing death to those who deserved it. Let me pretend, just for a little while, just until I drew my last breath. Surely that day had to be coming soon.

I closed my eyes, not responding to Viper, for I feared if I did, I would lose the charade.

Sleep did not come that night, and on the rare occasion it did, my dreams were not nightmares but instead dreams of what could be. Me, happy and laughing and smiling. Viper, Maddox, and Sylvester all around me, doing the same. The four of us, happy to be together.

When dawn’s light crept into the room and woke me up, I was almost sad to realize it’d been nothing but a dream. A dream that would never come true.

Days went by, and I started to think that whatever I’d slipped in Carl DeLuca’s drink was nothing. I had no idea why Tony would give me a vial of something that wasn’t potent enough to kill, but I assumed if Carl died, we would’ve heard of it by now.

Unless they were trying to keep it under wraps, like the Lucianos had attempted to do with Mario’s death. If that was the case, then I guess we just had to play the waiting game to see who would be the first leak.

Apparently there were always leaks. When you were high up on the criminal ladder, and people either were loyal to you or wanted to kill you, there tended to be those who switched sides, the ones who jumped ship. Danny had been one of them.

It was a nice day, so I found myself outside. I didn’t often spend time outside, but the Lucianos had a nice place. Their backyard was something you’d see in a movie, tall stone pillars and a pool to match. The house kind of curled around the patio, so you felt secluded and closed-off from the world.

Mike came with me, of course, because he always was with me during the day. He and Viper traded places in the early mornings.

I came upon a tattooed, muscular body in the pool, and I found myself grinning as I watched him swim. Maddox, for Sylvester was off on a job—a job that, sadly, did not require my bloody talents. A pity, I know. If I could go on every job, I would.

Mike hung back while I approached the water, crouching down as Maddox swam towards the front end of the pool. I didn’t think he’d noticed me yet; his head was bent down underwater. He was doing some fancy stroke. I admit, swimming was not something my parents taught me. Or, you know, bought me lessons for. We had a pool, but they were much more interested in honing my other skills.

My voice. My piano-playing. Keeping my body free of babies. You know, the usual.

Maddox made it to the edge of the pool, flipping his body, about to kick off and keep swimming, but his dark stare finally caught mine, and his smooth movements in the water jilted to a stop, a scowl growing on his face. The half of his head that had black hair was messy, the other half plastered with a tattoo dripping water.

I mean, not gonna lie, he looked good wet.

“Hey,” I said, smirking at him.

His brown eyes narrowed at me. The look he gave me right then was not the look a man gave the woman he loved, but I was under no impression that Maddox cared for me. I wasn’t some stupid girl who was a slave to her coochie. No, my lady bits did not control me, nor did any hormones that slipped past me and into my body.

No, the way he looked at me right then was a look of hatred, of annoyance. It was a look that made me smirk harder, really.

“What the fuck do you want?” he said, not bothering to hide how unhappy he was at my interruption.

“I’m bored,” I whined. My feet were already barefoot—I was not the type of person who walked around the house with their shoes on, I wasn’t a savage—so I plopped down and hung my feet into the water. I got the ends of my skinny jeans wet in the process, but I didn’t care. I had nowhere else to be, and bothering Maddox seemed like a good way to waste some time.

Maddox hung on the edge of the pool, the muscles in his strong arms bulging as he continued to glare. “And how the hell is that my problem? Go be bored somewhere else.”

I pouted, noticing that his gaze immediately dipped to my lips. Maddox might hate me, but he was attracted to me all the same. It was so easy to play him, really. Too easy. It almost wasn’t entertaining, but with his proclivity toward choking and bringing knives into the bed, well, let’s just say that made it a lot more fun.

“You should teach me how to swim,” I suggested.

He looked as if he wanted to do anything else in the world but that. “You get in this pool with me, I might just drown you.” He ran a hand through his hair, combing its lengths back on the left half of his head.

“Ooh, promise?”

The look he gave me in response made me chuckle. I got up, pulling my feet out of the water as I reached for the hemline of my shirt, tugging it off my body and dropping it to the ground. My pants came down shortly after that. I stood in nothing but my bra and panties, and I gave a good wiggle of my ass before I lowered myself into the pool beside Maddox, who still glared at me, even though he’d just checked me out.

The water was a bit cold, but my body got used to it. Of course, it helped that I stood near the edge by Maddox, his body heat practically oozing into me even though he wasn’t touching me. Love might not be between us—we were both too crazy for that—but we had the physical aspect nailed down.

He was hot, what could I say? All wet and tattooed… I could easily lick every inch of him, even in this chlorine-filled pool.

“I don’t remember telling you to come in,” Maddox growled out as he turned toward me, his arms slipping into the water.

“I wasn’t aware I needed an invitation—” Whatever else I was about to say, whatever smartass comment I had prepared in me, it was stolen out of my throat when his hands found my hips beneath the water. He pushed me against the side of the pool, its concrete edge digging into my back as his body pinned me there. He wore swimming trunks, but with his body this close, they left hardly anything to the imagination.

Then again, I was already quite accustomed to that monster dick he packed below the belt.

“You’re not a guest here, in case you forgot,” Maddox whispered, leaning his nose against my cheek. “Sylvester might pretend you’re his girlfriend, but you aren’t. You’re the family dog.” His words were whispered with venom, and I shivered against him.

Can’t a gal get turned on by a growly man?

“I know,” I purred out, arching my back against him, wanting to tease him, tempt him, get him to grab my throat and try to put me in place. His hands might suffocate, they might choke, but the body they were attached to whispered no lies, no false promises that it would be over soon. Maddox was a monster, a mad beast, his anger always getting the better of him, and he never tried to hide that fact.

Maybe it was wrong, but it was something I appreciated.

His body moved against mine, pinning me even harder against the edge of the pool. The feeling of the concrete wall scraping against the skin on my back was not a particularly good one, but being caught between a rock and a hard place wasn’t so bad.

And by hard place, I meant Maddox’s body. Because he was hard in every way possible. His muscles. His ragged breathing. The snake currently growing and poking me against my stomach. Oh, yes. He was hard all around, and that made my insides burn in the best way.

I could lose myself in Maddox. It wasn’t anything more than sex, nothing more than two adults releasing some pent-up frustration and anger. Occasionally I might feel some strange things inside toward him, but those were a fool’s feelings. Only an idiot would ever hope to have more than sex with Maddox, to want an actual connection to him.

And I might be a lot of things, but I was no idiot.

“Teach me how to swim,” I whispered, turning my head so that my lips grazed his with every word I spoke. I didn’t dare kiss him; I still wasn’t too big a fan of kissing, honestly, but Maddox’s kisses were rough and wild, hard and unforgiving, just like the rest of him. I guess they weren’t so bad.

“Oh, I’ll teach you how to do a lot of things,” he responded, pushing his midsection upon me harder, as if I could ever overlook the erection currently pressing against me. Silly man.

I chuckled, and that only seemed to annoy him. What could I say? I liked grinding his gears. It was all too easy to do. Hell, all a gal had to do was breathe the wrong way, and Maddox was likely to want to strangle you.

“What’s so funny?” he growled out, his breath hot on my face, a stark contrast to how cool the water was around us. Although, it was starting to feel a little hot, especially with how close we were.

Or maybe that was just my vagina, screaming with a need for that third eye between his legs. Unlike men, you know, our little kittens didn’t come with an instruction manual. Men had it so easy: dick hard equaled horny. And sometimes all it took for them to get hard was a look, a soft touch, a suggestive whispered phrase. Now, a cunt? Those things were a bit more complicated.

Were you hungry or were you horny? You couldn’t rely on your kitten to tell you the answer; people tended to frown upon you slipping your fingers into yourself to check on your wetness when you were in public. Men, on the other hand, could feel their dicks getting hard.

What an easy life it must be, having a cock. Not going to lie, some days I was jealous.

Plus, I think it’d be so fun to be able to whip it out and piss wherever I wanted, make yellow words in the snow—I was getting off track, wasn’t I?

Yes, back to the situation at hand: Maddox’s hard dick and his growly voice.

“You,” I murmured, drawing two hands down his chest, relishing in the feeling of his muscles tightening beneath my fingertips. His body did react to mine, but it wasn’t like I was his girl.

Brief memories of seeing him in the club, dancing with a short-haired girl, surfaced in my head, and I suddenly grew prickly. I shouldn’t feel jealous. I shouldn’t feel anything. Maddox Luciano was not mine to obsess over. His dick could go anywhere it pleased… and yet, that didn’t stop my blood from boiling at the thought.

Even though we stood practically in each other’s skin, Maddox sensed something was off. He pulled his head back a bit to stare at me, his dark brows coming together as he asked, “What is it?” I must’ve worn a very peculiar expression, for him to ask. Usually he didn’t give a shit, and that’s how I liked it.

But he noticed. He noticed and cared enough to say something. Odd.

With my hands still on his chest, I muttered, “I was just remembering that girl at the club. What’s her name?” I shouldn’t ask. I shouldn’t care. I should not let Maddox know that had affected me at all.

I mean, I’d run right out of there like a bat out of hell, but that was because I had flashes of my dear fucker of a brother, not because I’d seen him grinding on someone else.

The face he gave me was slightly confused but also far too smug for my liking. “What—why? Why the fuck does it matter?” Maddox paused, and though the pressure between our bodies didn’t exactly lessen, I still felt like he was seconds from pulling away. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous of Mina.”

Mina. So that was her name…

Not sure what I’d use the information for, but if I ever got out of this house while not on a metaphorical leash, maybe I’d pay that bitch a visit. And then, almost simultaneously, as I was thinking that I realized what Maddox had said before telling me her name.

Jealous.

Jealous? Me? There was no way in hell I was jealous of that girl. I mean, I had his dick, too. He probably spread it around wherever he could, not like it was a competition. What was there to be jealous of? Why the fuck would I be jealous?

Then again, why the fuck did I even think about it, about her, and bring it up?

I couldn’t be jealous. There was no fucking way I was jealous. If I was jealous, that meant I actually cared, which meant I felt more for this madman than I thought I did. Which… just… no. No, I could not stress the word enough.

“I am not,” I stated, sounding entirely unlike myself, and of course I’d taken so long to respond that nothing I could say would be believable. In Maddox’s eyes, I was jealous, even though I had no reason to be. He wasn’t my boyfriend. He sure as hell wasn’t my husband. He wasn’t even a crush. I didn’t have those.

It was his turn to laugh. “Fuck me,” he muttered, a smirk crossing his face, the tables effectively turned all because I’d brought the bitch up, “you are. You’re jealous.”

Turning my head, I could no longer stare at him, fearing, deep down, he was right. How else could I explain the confused feelings inside me? God, catching feelings for any of these Luciano men was a mistake. Not saying my heart could break, but in the end, they’d only kill me. They’d kill me, be rid of me, and never think of me again.

Except Sylvester… I didn’t know if I believed Sylvester would. The way he talked sometimes, how I caught him staring at me every so often when he thought I wasn’t looking…

To use Maddox’s words: fuck me. To use his words with my own flair: fuck me in the ass with a tentacled alien dildo.

I was jealous. I mean, I knew I was crazy, but it took a special kind of crazy to suddenly become jealous of something that had happened in the past, when I had no claim on the guy involved. That was just nuts.

Maddox was still laughing at me, which annoyed the piss out of me. If I had a knife, or a bat, or any sort of weapon, I’d definitely do a bit of stabbing. Or hitting. Or anything. Hurt him some. He was a man, he could take it.

“I can’t believe you’re jealous,” Maddox spoke, totally amused. Glad someone was finding this funny, because I sure as shit wasn’t.

“Fuck off.” I wanted to say more, but my usual talkativeness had died the moment I realized that I was, in fact, jealous. I shouldn’t be. Me being jealous was basically my inner self trying to say I wanted to be the only one who rode the monster cock pressing against my stomach beneath the pool’s water.

And that—that couldn’t be farther from the truth. I mean, I wasn’t the type of gal who could ever be in a relationship. Not with Maddox, not with Sylvester, not with hot and cold Viper. I was too fucked up for that.

“Oh, there will be fucking, but it won’t be off—” Whatever else Maddox was about to say was interrupted by someone storming out of the backdoor, someone who looked quite frazzled—which was definitely out of the norm considering who it was.

Sylvester.

Back from his job already?

I couldn’t turn my head to look at him, not with how Maddox still pressed his body against mine, but Maddox could, and he dropped whatever else he was about to say to me, instead asking him, “Back already? Must’ve been a quick drop.”

“Get out of the pool,” he said, sounding hardly like himself. I guess that was just going around today. We were all acting a little crazy.

“I’m busy” was what Maddox said next, his dark eyes returning to me. Busy with me. Busy with being smug that I was somehow jealous of a bitch I barely knew. Busy being an ass, basically.

I heard Sylvester move closer to the pool, his shoes hard on the stamped concrete. “We need to talk. Something’s happened.”

That was all he needed to say. Maddox pushed off of me, which allowed me to spin in the water and face him. Sylvester stood, looking down at us both, his lips drawn into a thin line. He didn’t look happy, but he didn’t appear to be the opposite, either. What the hell was going on?

Sylvester said nothing else, returning to the house, leaving Maddox and me to wonder just what was going on. Maddox got out of the pool first, and to my utter shock, the bastard offered me a hand and helped lift me out. Such a kind gesture, done so willingly; it went against his harsh glares and everything he ever said to me.

Fuck. I was letting Maddox get under my skin, and that was so not good. Sylvester had already wormed his way there, with his earnest glances and his honeyed words—not to mention his gift, my mask.

I guess… I guess if I was honest with myself, they were all getting under my skin.

Let me be the first to say that putting on clothes while you were sopping wet was not a fun endeavor. It was gross, and not to mention a little difficult. The clothes instantly stuck to your skin. And jeans? Ugh, forget about them.

Maddox had a towel, which he so graciously did not offer to me, but his clothes must’ve been in the house, for he headed right inside, leaving me out with Mike.

I glanced at the big lumberjack of a guy, eyeing him up. His stubbly jaw was set, but I could tell he was itching to get inside and see what was going on. I gave up on the jeans, throwing them at Mike—who caught them with a grunt—before hurrying after Maddox inside.

I eventually found Maddox in an office—not the office, not Daddy Luciano’s office—but the same office I’d been tied to a chair in… twice. He stood in his black swimming trunks, a towel draped over his shoulders, uncaring that he dripped chlorine-filled water onto the old wooden floor below.

Eh, I was sure these floors had seen worse. They’d damn well nearly saw my blood that first night, when I’d been kidnapped by the brothers and brought here to answer for my crime. My teeny, weeny indiscretion of murdering their baby brother.

Mike was right behind me. He must’ve folded my jeans while he walked, for he held onto a neatly-folded square of dark blue fabric.

“Close the door,” Sylvester ordered, and with his free hand, Mike did. He paced back and forth a bit, tugging at the tie around his neck to loosen it. His blonde hair looked like he’d run his hands through it a bunch of times, its short length sticking every which way. He looked, for the first time in a while, not put-together, very unlike himself in every way. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d ever seen him like this.

Well, except that time I nearly killed myself in their bathroom.

And right after that when I’d told them about what had happened to me when I was younger.

So, okay, maybe that whole night was just a disaster, but that’s because it was. Moving on.

“Sylvester,” Maddox spoke, crossing his arms over his bare chest. He still had the fading hints of an erection in his shorts, but it was something everyone collectively decided to ignore, apparently. “What is it? Just spit it out already.”

He stopped pacing, his blue eyes full of concern. “If rumors are true… something happened. Something very big.”

Until he said that, I honestly had no idea what this was about, but now, now I wondered if this was something of my own design. My own, very delayed design. Could this be about Carl DeLuca? Did the bastard die?

“Well?” Maddox spoke after a while, his voice demanding. “Don’t tell me you’re going to make us guess.” His voice sounded so gruff, so annoyed, and it would’ve made me grin, had I not suddenly realized this might be because of me.

“There’s a rumor going around that Old Luke is sick,” Sylvester said, glancing between us all, though he spent the most time staring at his brother. I was not born a Luciano, so I couldn’t imagine what it felt like, hearing that the head of the family who’d been practically going to war with your own was sick.

But, if he was sick, that meant he was still alive. Carl DeLuca wasn’t dead.

Yet.

“So?” Maddox shrugged. “He’s an old man. That doesn’t mean anything—”

I bit the inside of my cheek, wanting to say something but unsure if it would be smart to. Would Maddox and Sylvester be happy if I was the cause, or would they turn me over to their father and let Daddy Luciano handle me? Not gonna lie, I was interested in meeting the guy, but not like this.

“It’s bad,” Sylvester whispered. “He’s been given his last rights by their family priest. I don’t think there’s any getting better from this.”

Finally, I spoke up, though I did not confess the fact that I’d probably done it, “Would it be so bad if the old coot did die? I mean, that letter he sent was an asshole move. He kind of deserves it.”

Maddox and Sylvester looked at me then, and I mean they both really looked at me. It was like I’d grown a third eye or something, like I was some stupid, hideous freak who’d just said the strangest possible thing. I mean, really, would that be so bad? Especially if the DeLucas were in a position of power more so than the Lucianos.

“Does our father know yet?” Maddox asked, a muscle in his jaw clenching. He leaned toward the door, like he wanted to bolt out and never come back.

Sylvester shook his head. It seemed the two brothers were completely okay with ignoring what I’d said, which was only a little irritating. “No, I haven’t gone to him yet. I don’t think he’ll take it well, considering.”

“Considering what?” I pressed, and still I got no response. Okay, you know what? Scratch that. It was really irritating.

“Shit,” Maddox muttered. “I’m going out.” He said nothing else, turning and pushing past Mike to leave. He didn’t even look back at us once. It would seem getting out of this house as fast as he could was the first thing on his mind.

I watched him go, holding back a frown as I looked to Sylvester, who was busy shaking his head and muttering, “You should go with him. Once our father gets on a rampage, you might not be safe.” Thinking of me, always thinking of me. It would be sweet, if it already wasn’t.

As much as I was curious about Daddy Luciano and how he would react to Carl DeLuca’s impending demise—why he wouldn’t be leaping for joy rather than going on a rampage—I felt the urge to tell him. If there was a Luciano that should know what I did, it was Sylvester. If anyone would understand, it was him.

Glancing at Mike before addressing him, I asked, “Can I talk to you?” Sylvester looked as though he was seconds from nodding, so I quickly added, “Alone, I mean?”

Sylvester lifted a hand, and Mike gave a short nod. My bodyguard left… along with my pants. Not that I felt uncomfortable standing there, totally wet, with nothing on below the waist besides my panties. Not in front of Sylvester.

Right now, he was all business, anyway. His blue eyes didn’t dip low, didn’t dart to check me out, as tempting as it might be. It just went to show how serious this whole situation was.

Once we were alone in the office, I took a step toward him, my hands hanging limply at my sides. “There’s something I should probably tell you,” I started, earning myself a risen eyebrow. Just one, and it was an adorable expression on him, I had to say.

Ugh. Adorable? Since the fuck when did I use that word?

“Well, I actually should’ve told you a while ago, maybe even before it happened…” God, the longer I went on, the more I beat around the bush, the worse it would seem. How much worse could it be, though? Depending on how you looked at it, things were about as bad as they could get, at least for the old Carl DeLuca.

“What are you talking about?” Sylvester spoke, slow to tilt his head down at me.

“When I sang at the Gilded Rose, I met a lot of people.” I decided to give some backstory, along with a few embellishments, but Sylvester didn’t need to know all that. “Newton introduced me to a few. There was a man—I think he might’ve been Carl DeLuca.”

His expression darkened. “You met Carl DeLuca and didn’t tell us?”

“He didn’t exactly introduce himself,” I said. “And on the drive home, I asked Carter if he was there, and he said he didn’t see him.”

“So then why do you think you met Old Luke?”

“He was upstairs, in the manager’s office. I don’t know if he was ever downstairs at all,” I spoke with a shrug. “And if he wasn’t, then…”

“Carter wouldn’t have seen him,” he finished for me. “What did he look like?” I described him, and Sylvester was slow to sigh. “Yeah, that does sound like him. Did he seem sick to you?” The question hung in the air, heavy, foreboding.

I just could not understand why it wasn’t a good thing he was sick and about to die. Wasn’t that like taking out an enemy general in warfare? Wasn’t that considered a tactical win or something?

“No,” I said, drawing out the word to the extreme. “He didn’t seem bad. He looked pretty healthy… but, uh…” It was so unlike me to not get straight to the point, but then again, I was having more fun than I wanted to admit with these guys, and the mere thought that killing off Carl DeLuca might make me meet my end sooner was not a good feeling.

I hated it, in fact. I really hated it. I wanted so many things out of these guys, things which I knew I could never get. Stupid, because I’d never longed for anything or anyone before. It was so unlike me. It was fucking annoying.

Ick. Feelings and shit.

“But what?” Sylvester prodded, inching closer to me. He wasn’t trying to intimidate me; more like pull the whole truth out of me whether I wanted to tell him it or not. At this point, I hardly had a choice.

“I might’ve put something in his drink,” I whispered.

“You… you what?” It took a few seconds for him to register what I’d said, and once it sunk in, he frowned at me. I was used to glares from Maddox, but Sylvester? The look didn’t suit him. “What did you put in his drink? Were you seen?”

“We were alone,” I said. “No one saw me do it. And I don’t really know what I put in his drink—”

“How the fuck do you not know?”

“I didn’t ask Tony what the ingredients were—”

“Tony?” Again, with the interruptions. “You got it from Tony?”

Well, too late now to turn back and rewind what I’d said, so I held my head high as I nodded. “Yeah. Tony gave me a small vial of some clear liquid before I went off with Carter. He didn’t want me telling anyone.”

Strong, unyielding hands were on my arms suddenly, fingers curling around my wet skin. Sylvester took a page from Maddox’s book as his face turned furious. “And you listened to him? Why? Lola—”

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset,” I hissed out, refusing to flinch under his harsh stare. “Why isn’t it a good thing?”

He wouldn’t answer me, but he did release me, his fury replaced by a sorrowful look. “I have to tell my father this, Lola. I’m sorry, but… this is not something I can hide.”

Something inside me ached when he said that, but I didn’t let it show. Instead, I said, “I never asked you to hide anything from him, Sylvester.” And that was the truth. I never asked for anything of these guys, because, for the longest time, I didn’t want anything.

Now? Now I think I wanted too much, and it would be my downfall.

“I’ll give you fifteen minutes to get ready,” he whispered, almost dejected in the way he looked at me. “My father will want to see you. Whatever happens… it might not be pretty. He might—” He stopped himself from saying anything more, but I understood.

Richard Luciano might kill me.

He might kill me for killing Carl DeLuca, because I’d gone with Tony’s idea, thinking it was smart. Great.

I held his stare, saying, “All right.” I said nothing else, and I couldn’t tell if Sylvester was disappointed or not that I didn’t beg him to not tell his father. He was so loyal to his family… it was bad enough he’d kept my little meltdown away from his father. This? This was too big.

Chapter Six – Lola

I dried my hair as best as I could, Mike having returned to my side as my watchman. I also put on pants—black leggings that clung to every curve on my body. I mean, if I was going to die today, I might as well do it while looking good.

When I was done and ready, I smiled at Mike. “How do I look?”

All he did was grunt and shrug, though his hazel eyes did linger on my legs. It might be the last time he tried to act like he wasn’t eyeing me up like a fine piece of meat.

It was a strange thing, the anticipation I felt. For the longest time, I declared over and over again I wasn’t afraid of death. I wasn’t scared of dying. It was inevitable, and it would always be, even if I didn’t have such a shitty childhood. Death came for us all, and sometimes it wasn’t too kind.

But now, things felt different. Now I felt differently. I wasn’t afraid of death itself, but I did fear what it meant. No more Sylvester. No more Maddox. No more Viper or Mike or anything. It would all just end, and I wasn’t ready for that. The final destination, the last curtain call where the fat lady sang… no, I wasn’t ready at all. Being here had shown me there was still more to life. More I wanted, more I could squeeze out of it.

Unfortunately, that meant there was also more to lose, and I wasn’t a fan of losing.

I tried to think of something smart to say to Mike, but nothing came. And then, as I stared at his ruggedly handsome face, I recalled his brother, Viper. Viper would hear through the grapevine what happened to me. He’d never get the chance to say goodbye, since his time with me wasn’t for a few hours yet.

Although, who knew? Maybe Daddy Luciano would want to torture the fuck out of me. Maybe I’d still be alive, hanging on by a thread.

Sylvester slipped his head into my room without knocking, his blue eyes landing on me, shadows dancing across his features, hiding whatever it was he felt about this as he said, “Come. My father wants a word with you.”

It was time. I was going to meet Richard Luciano, the head of this family, the father to the guys. I was going to stare into the eyes of the man I’d perhaps wronged the most by killing Dickless way back when. That alone was enough reason for him to not want to see me, but now? Now there was nothing. There would be nothing left to hold him back from me.

Glancing at Mike, he said, “You can stay.”

All Mike did was nod, though he did watch as I went toward Sylvester. I couldn’t tell if he was wordlessly giving me his last goodbyes or not, but it didn’t matter. Mike never talked much, anyway. He was just one big, huggable lumberjack.

The walk to Daddy Luciano’s office was almost too long. The hallways seemed to stretch into infinity, and with each step, my stomach churned. I couldn’t remember ever being so anxious to meet someone before, not even Carl fucking DeLuca. This felt too real.

This was real.

We went up a flight of steps. Neither Sylvester nor I hurried, for I didn’t think either of us wanted to speed this up. As we walked, our hands brushed against each other’s, and once we made it to the third floor of the house, his fingers intertwined with mine. No one else was around, so no one saw it, which was probably the only reason he did it. Still, it felt nice. Like, even though he couldn’t do anything to save me, he still cared.

We stopped before a closed door, its mahogany wood dark. His hand gave mine a squeeze as he turned to face me. We stood, staring at each other, for what felt like eternity… even though it was only a minute.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you,” he whispered, still holding onto my hand, almost refusing to let it go. “I wish—”

“I know,” I spoke, knowing what he was going to say before he said it. I knew it because I wished the same thing, especially lately—that things were different. That our circumstances were different.

Sylvester released my hand, and he reached for the door, pushing it open. “Father, I brought Lola.” He glanced over his shoulder at me, moving to hold the door open.

I slipped inside, not bothering to keep my gaze down. I should be meek, I should not instigate anything further—but I was still Lola Harding, the Night Slayer, and I wasn’t about to let a mafia crime lord make me feel like I was nothing, like I did something wrong.

Sylvester left, the door latching behind me, and I stood smack dab in the center of a dimly lit office, an office with wood paneling on the walls and built-in bookcases. It was not the kind of office you’d find in a regular house; everything in it, including the grandiose desk before me, was elegant and refined.

And, of course, I wasn’t alone here. A man sat at the desk, leaning back, dark eyes on me. He was exactly what I pictured Maddox to be in twenty years, minus all of his tattoos, though much more discerning.

Richard Luciano was in his forties, with pitch-black hair and equally dark eyes, mirroring both his biological sons. His hair was cut short and slicked back, shaved short down to his sideburns, which were impeccably well-kept. He looked more like Maddox than Mario, a deep-seated anger in his eyes as he stared at me, unblinking. His jaw was sharp and clean-cut, the suit he wore sleek and black, not an ounce of color anywhere to be seen on his frame. Even though he was sitting down, I could tell he was perched and ready to get up, ready to lunge at me.

He was everything I imagined he would be and more, so much more. Just being in his presence would put any normal person ill at ease; even I felt a bit uneasy beneath his black-eyed stare.

Making any moves right now would be very unwise.

“Lola Harding,” he spoke, his voice so low and deadly it cut through the air, almost as sharp as a knife. “I told myself the first time I brought you into this office would be the last.” He said nothing else, glaring at me, waiting for me to… to speak?

I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. Maybe he was just playing with me like a cat toyed with its prey before eating it. If that’s what Daddy Luciano wanted, he wasn’t going to get it. I wasn’t the typical mouse, just as he wasn’t the typical cat.

When I said nothing, Richard was slow to stand. The movement was such a deliberate thing, allowing me to see that, beneath his all-black suit, he was just as thick and well-built as Maddox. He was not a man that sat on his ass all day; he was a man that was not afraid to take care of problems himself, a man whose hands were undoubtedly rough.

He was a monster of a man, maybe even more so than Maddox. Just because he looked more refined didn’t mean anything. He was just more well-groomed than his son, a monster of a different variety, one that effortlessly could haunt dreams.

Mine? Oh, Daddy Luciano wouldn’t haunt me… not in the way you’re thinking.

There was something to be said about a man who looked like that, a man who commanded the room and anyone in it so easily. Richard was everything I imagined he would be and more, and as he rounded the desk, heading toward me, I found myself frozen. Not afraid, but waiting. Waiting to see what he would do, how he’d hurt me, if it would be over quickly for me or if he’d make it last.

My money, not that I had much now, was on the latter.

“You,” he went on, dark eyes nailing me in place, “told my son you were given something by Tony to give to Carl DeLuca?”

I nodded, for there was no use in trying to deny the truth. Sylvester had told him what I’d said, and I wouldn’t begrudge him for that. After losing his brother, Sylvester was all about family—except, on the odd occasion, he was all about me.

Richard’s lips smirked, though I wouldn’t say he was smiling or grinning. Whatever expression he then wore didn’t matter, because I didn’t get a good chance to see it. In a split-second, the man had his hand wrapped around my throat, and within the next moment, he had me pushed against the wall, having dragged me backward, causing me to stumble over my feet as I reacted involuntarily and grabbed the arm connected to my neck.

I wasn’t trying to pull him off, but he sure as hell was holding onto me pretty damn hard. So hard it was difficult to breathe, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me gasp for air.

Once my back was slammed onto the wall with enough force it would surely bruise—that was, should I live long enough for the skin to bruise after this encounter—Richard growled out, “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

The fingers around my neck were tight, dedicated in their choking of me, but still I managed to smile, coughing out, “You should be grateful that he’s dying.” I mean, Carl DeLuca was this family’s enemy, wasn’t he? He was an ass who sent a sympathy letter to the house after a traitor told him all about Mario. The old man would get what he deserved.

What I didn’t get, though, was why Daddy Luciano was so angry about it. Shouldn’t he be happy? I mean, you’re welcome.

“You think you can murder my son, waltz into this house, and declare you know everything about us?” Richard’s voice was pure venom, thrown at me like acid. “You know nothing. You are nothing.”

Words that might cause injury to other girls, but me? I wasn’t so wounded by him, nor was I particularly bothered by that firm, choking hand around my neck.

I did something right then that he wasn’t expecting: I smiled. I smiled and I laughed—albeit, the laughter was a bit cut off and wheezy, what with the hand around my neck and all—but I couldn’t help it. This was… oh, this was just too grand, you know?

What kind of mess did I step into that night I killed Dickless? A fun one, a dirty one… one that would end up swallowing me whole. Staring into Richard’s black, almost pupil-less stare, I knew it. I’d known it before, but this guy made everything feel more real.

He must’ve been truly confused at my outburst and my grin, for the fingers around my neck loosened just a bit. Not all the way, not enough for me to ever hope to escape his hold, but enough for me to whisper, “Are you going to kill me now, Daddy?”

His jaw ground, his eyes narrowing. Oh, my words only served to further anger him, but they were worth it. Richard, with his hand on my neck, whirled around, tossing me to the floor just before his desk. I landed on my hands and knees, still grinning, still chuckling to myself.

Before I could get up, he was behind me, kneeling and grabbing a fistful of my hair and pulling my head back, exposing my neck as he growled into my ear, “By the time I’m done with you, you’re going to wish I’d killed you.”

I ran a tongue over my lower lip, saying, “Ooh, Daddy, threaten me with a good time! You sure know the way to my heart—”

With one hand still curled in my hair, the other found its way to my neck again, stifling whatever else I might’ve said as he hissed, “You know nothing. You think you helped us by doing what Tony asked? Your ignorance just might’ve killed us all, and if you think I’m going to let you walk out of this office now, with that pretty face intact, you’re wrong.”

Wait a moment. Killed us all? How? How the hell could me poisoning Carl DeLuca kill the Lucianos? Someone please explain this to me, because I sure as hell wasn’t understanding it like I thought I did.

This… none of this made sense.

The smile on my face wavered, and though I couldn’t turn my head to look at him, I still managed to ask, “How? Why isn’t it a good thing?”

The fingers on my neck moved upward, no longer strangling me but instead uncomfortably cupping the bottom of my jaw. “You come into this city, my home, my fucking territory, and expect to know everything after a few jobs? All you knew was Carl was my enemy—but Carl was keeping his wolf pack at bay. Carl hated me, but the worst he would do was send a mocking letter. Carl and I go way back, you see. There was a time, long ago, when our families were not at each other’s throats as we are today.”

But, let me guess, that time was long gone now. Yeah, it didn’t take a psychic to see what happened next.

Richard growled, “Carl is a fucking saint compared to the Bloody Princess. If he dies, she’ll take over, and the bickering in the shadows will turn into a full-scale war. People will die. My family will die—all because of you.” The fingers on my jaw clenched, causing me to grin. He would not see me writhe in pain. “Again.”

The Bloody Princess? Sounded like a gal I’d get along with.

“I knew I never should’ve let Sylvester sway me when it came to you,” Richard whispered, pulling his head away from mine just enough that he no longer leaned his nose against my ear. I could still feel the hotness of his breath on me, though, and not gonna lie, the way he had my body, kneeling over me, made me wonder how wild and animalistic he’d be in the sack.

Hey, he might be in his forties, but he was still sexy as hell, with a swagger that would wet any gal’s panties.

“I should’ve killed you that first night, when my sons brought you here,” he went on, the hand around my throat leaving as he reached for something else—something that, if I had to guess, sat in the waistband of his pants. He brought out a shiny black gun, holding the front of the barrel against my cheek. “When I’m done with you, Lola,” he hissed out my name as if it was the worst word he’d ever had to say, “everyone on the street will run in terror from you. There will be no more Night Slayer. No man will ever want to go home with a girl who has a face like yours.”

Was that supposed to be a threat? Was I supposed to cower in fear over what he’d said?

My eyes closed, and I could not stop myself from laughing. It was a hearty laugh, a laugh only a crazy bitch would have after someone had told her what he’d just told me. But, and that’s the thing: I was crazy. I was absolutely, one hundred percent, motherfucking crazy, and no mafia man, regardless of how well-dressed and handsome he was, was going to make me cower.

“Go on,” I said once I got my laughter under control. The hand holding my hair tugged harder in response, but I didn’t stop. The gun pressed against my cheek sure wouldn’t stop me, either. “Hurt me. Shoot me. Make me regret ever laying a hand on your son. Beat me. Rape me. Kill me slowly—or quickly. I don’t care.”

I could only eye him from my peripherals, could only glare at him with a side-eye as I went on, “Do you think you could do anything to me that hasn’t already been done? Do you think I’ve ever felt love or warmth or happiness?” When he said nothing, when he made no moves to answer me or shoot me, I added, “No, Richard, I haven’t. My whole life I’ve been waiting for someone to finally end it all, so bring it on. Make it hurt. Make me regret it.”

I couldn’t tell what Richard was thinking, mostly because I couldn’t stare at his face. The gun, I noticed, did lessen in its pressure on my cheek, but he did not move it away entirely. If only I could cut into his scalp, bury myself through his skull and get in his brain, just to see what he was thinking. To be a fly inside that brain, oh, I bet it would be a wonderful thing.

But then Richard did something I wasn’t expecting: the hand holding onto the back of my head released me, the body kneeling over me from behind getting up. Richard still held onto the gun, but he now stood beside me, his finger no longer on the trigger.

What? No, no, I—I didn’t say all those things to make him feel bad. I didn’t tell him all that just to stop him from what he was about to do. Kill me. Shoot me. Hurt me. For God’s sake, do something. Don’t just stand there, looking brooding and pensive and handsome all at the same time. I mean, what’s a gal have to do to finally get her release? And I didn’t mean the fun, tingly, orgasm-y release.

I meant death. Sweet, sweet death. Because death had to better than this miserable existence, didn’t it?

Everything was too real now, too… emotional. I wanted things I shouldn’t, and I craved things I never had before. None of it was fair. Death was the only answer, right?

“What are you doing?” I asked, not moving from my disheveled spot on the floor. I was certain I looked a mess. I felt it, as much as I didn’t want to admit it. Not because of what I’d done, but because of what I wanted. It wasn’t every day when someone admitted to themselves that they wanted to die.

I mean, I’d known it before, but I’d thought, surely, coming face to face with Daddy Luciano, would be it for me.

“If it wasn’t for you,” Richard spoke, tapping his gun against his side, “we wouldn’t know about Tony.”

“Tony?” I echoed. “What about Tony?” Even now, I wasn’t seeing the full picture.

“He’s betrayed us. The DeLucas have him, probably the Princess.” Still holding onto his gun, he folded his arms over his chest, quite pensive.

It took far too long for his words to sink in, for me to realize what he’d just said, and when it came to me, I wanted to deny it. The possibility that Tony was a traitor—it couldn’t be. I mean, didn’t everyone here want Carl DeLuca dead, at least a little? “You don’t know that,” I started, not sure why I felt the need to defend Tony to begin with.

I hadn’t spent much time with him, but I liked him. There was no way he’d turned on the family.

Richard looked at me—or, should I say, he looked down at me. Even from this angle, the guy was impressive. “Everyone knows to leave Carl alone, because they all know what would happen if he dies. We take care of traitors, we deal with people who should be loyal to us but aren’t… but as for going after the head of the DeLuca family, that’s not something anyone would do, unless they have a personal stake in it.”

I figured it was time to stand, and I slowly got to my feet, gripping the desk behind me as I stared at him. He stood over a foot taller than me, wide and strong. The only way I’d ever be able to take a man like him down would be with the element of surprise… and a whole lot of luck.

“I have everyone who’s able out looking for him,” Richard said, sighing as he went to put the gun underneath his suit jacket, on his back. I couldn’t say whether or not I’d ever seen an action more deliberately sexy and dangerous before.

Oh, fuck. I had it bad for the Lucianos, apparently. Even old Daddy could get my motor going.

“Once they find him,” he spoke, taking a measured step towards me, “they will bring him here, and I will deal with him.” He lifted an arm, raising the back of his hand, brushing it against my cheek. It was almost a delicate, tender gesture, but I knew it wasn’t. “Should I find out that you knew more, that you knew exactly what blood would be spilled because of this, I will keep good to my earlier words.”

I said nothing, because I knew this man would never believe anything I’d say. I was a liar, a deceiver, a murderer, and he was keeping me around only for my usefulness. I’d be a whole lot less useful with a fucked-up face.

“It would be a pity to destroy something as beautiful as you,” Richard whispered, his jaw setting as his hand fell away from my face. “But I’ve done worse, and I’ll do worse yet before death takes me.” He turned away from me, moving around me and his desk to once more sit on the impressive leather chair behind it. “Go, before I change my mind and paint the walls with your blood.”

I didn’t stay to argue with him, knowing it would be best for me to simply get out of here as quickly as possible, so that’s what I did. Not outright run away like a coward, but I hightailed it out of there as fast I could without tripping on my own two feet, and once I was in the hall, I let out a loud sigh.

Fuck.

Tony was a traitor? It still didn’t seem right.

I walked until I found someone else, and that someone happened to be Sylvester on the stairwell. My feet froze when I saw him, and when our eyes met, I replayed everything that happened in that office, everything his father had told me. None of it felt real. This all felt like some kind of hazy dream, as if I’d died in that office. As if Daddy Luciano had killed me after all.

It’s what Sylvester had been expecting, judging from the look he gave me right then: eyes widened, mouth hanging slightly ajar, hands loose at his sides. And then, and then he rushed toward me, practically sweeping me up off my feet. Since we were on the stairs, it was a difficult position to accomplish, but he managed.

He was hugging me, I realized in horror, the urge to push him away strong inside me. He was fucking hugging me, like he was glad I was still alive and kicking. And, fuck it all, what was worse was that I found myself closing my eyes and leaning into his chest, breathing him in like I was also glad to be alive. What in the ever-loving fuck was this?

These feelings… I wasn’t made for them. Really. I wasn’t.

“I thought…” Sylvester was unhurried in pulling himself off me, studying me, as if he’d see new wounds now that we were closer. “How did you…”

I knew what he was attempting to say. He thought I’d be dead. How did I get out of that office alive? A very good question, a question I was kind of wondering, too—along with why having his arms around me felt so good.

“I don’t know,” I spoke quietly, the truth. “He was going to kill me, I think, slowly, but… I don’t know what happened.” Enough about me. I didn’t want to talk about myself. In fact, I was so damned tired of talking about myself and my past and my feelings; I’d rather talk about literally anything else. “He mentioned Tony. He’s got men looking for him. You don’t think he’s a traitor, do you?”

Sylvester’s eyes fell to the carpeted steps, and it was then I knew: he did. He agreed with his father and thought Tony had betrayed them all. Why?

“You do,” I said, frowning somewhat. Was I the only person in this house who thought Tony wasn’t a traitor? I didn’t know who this Bloody Princess was, but if Carl died and she took over… I wasn’t afraid to meet that bitch head-on. “Why don’t any of you believe in him?”

He looked around, as if somewhat nervous someone would appear at the top of the stairs. He settled for taking my hand and dragging me down to the second floor of the house… where he locked us in whatever room we came upon first. A spare bedroom that didn’t seem to ever be touched, a whole lot less cluttered than mine.

And more pink.

Ew.

Wait a minute. A pink room in the Luciano house? That didn’t seem right.

As I was busy staring at the room we were in, Sylvester adjusted his suit, appearing uneasy, perhaps the most anxious I’d ever seen him. Finally, I focused on him. “What? Don’t tell me you brought me here for some hanky-panky. Buddy, I’m all for pink, but this light, bubblegum pink is so not my thing. It’ll be like having sex in a nursery—”

“My mother decorated this room,” he spoke quietly. “It was her favorite color.”

Ah, right. Totally awkward, thanks.

“You are still new to all of this,” Sylvester changed the subject, thankfully without any further pushing from me. “This isn’t the first time Tony’s loyalty has been put in question, but this does look really bad.”

“Your father mentioned something about the Bloody Princess taking over if Carl dies. Who is she?” Really, Richard Luciano hadn’t said much at all. He was much more wordy and descriptive when he was describing what he wanted to do to me. Like, some background information would be nice.

“Bianca DeLuca,” he spoke her name softly, as if fearing to speak it any louder, like she might appear out of nowhere like Bloody Mary. “He is her only surviving child. She never had any children of her own.” With everything he said, it still felt like there was something he wasn’t saying, something he was trying to avoid.

“Do you think she turned Tony, or do you think Tony was always…” I couldn’t finish the sentence, because I didn’t think it was true. I had no reason to believe Tony, but some things still weren’t adding up here.

“I don’t know, but I do know my father is concerned for a reason. Bianca is… she’s kind of like you.” Sylvester paused, letting my imagination run wild until he said, “She’s not afraid to get her hands dirty. In fact, she loves it. I’ve heard she has a fascination with blood, which earned herself the name Bloody Princess.”

I’d met Carl, and I’d put the man in his sixties. Any daughter of his must be middle-aged by now, unless he hooked up with a younger woman—which was possible, I’d admit. These families had so much power and money, I didn’t doubt there were girls out there who’d gladly spread their legs for them.

Never mind me, of course. I didn’t care about the money or the power. I liked the danger.

“Why didn’t she have kids of her own? With what you guys do, family seems to be one of the most important things,” I spoke, shrugging. I’d never be able to have kids of my own, but that was just fine. I didn’t want them. Not now. Not after everything I’d been through.

Could you imagine me as a mother? No, sweetie, you’re not supposed to sucker-punch boys in the throat when they look at you wrong—at least, not while the teachers are looking. If you’re alone, by all means, kick that boy’s ass. Here, why don’t you take a knife to school tomorrow. Yeah, I didn’t think I’d be motherly material.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe she can’t. She’s always had plenty of suitors, especially after…” He stopped himself, his eyebrows coming together.

“After what?” God, getting the whole story out of him was like pulling teeth, only a lot less more fun. At least with the teeth, there’d be screams and pain, but this? This was a different kind of torture.

“She had a sister, but she died a long time ago,” Sylvester whispered.

Ah. Okay, well that didn’t explain anything, but at least I knew a little bit more now than I did before. “If Carl dies, and she takes charge of the family, do you think she’ll start a war with the Lucianos?” Daddy Luciano certainly seemed to think so.

Those pretty, luminous blue eyes landed on me. Sylvester stood less than two feet away from me, and yet the distance felt as if it stretched for miles. “Yes,” he muttered, frowning. I wanted so desperately to reach out to him, to hold him, to tell him that everything would be okay—because I knew what he was thinking when he imagined a war between the two families.

Death. So much death. The deaths of his father, of his last brother, of his other friends and family. His own. All because of me and what I’d done, stupidly.

“And it’s all my fault,” I said, taking a step back from him. I’d wrong this family, I knew, but I didn’t feel guilty about it. I would never claim to regret choosing Dickless that night. He’d wanted to take advantage of me, and if he did it to me, he surely would do it to others. I did not feel an ounce of guilt over that.

But this? This war the Lucianos faced, this thing that hinged on an old man on his deathbed miraculously pulling through instead of succumbing to the slow-acting poison I’d given him? I’d be a liar if I said I felt the same way about this. I didn’t. I felt guilty. I regretted listening to Tony, because I didn’t want to see these men dead.

I cared for them, as much as my crooked, broken heart could allow, and I might’ve signed their death warrants by doing what I did at the Gilded Rose.

Sylvester didn’t try to deny my words. He only looked at me and said, “Yes, but you’re still here, so I’m going to take every little victory I can.” With that, he closed the distance between us, took my head in his hands, and kissed me so hard and so passionately I almost forgot why we were here in the first place.

I liked kissing him, and I’d just killed him and his entire family.

Chapter Seven – Viper

Mike and I were sent out to look for Tony. We didn’t know the whole story, but if Richard Luciano told you to look for someone, you went out and you looked. You looked as hard as you could, hardly eating or sleeping as the hours ticked on. Those same hours turned into days.

Carl DeLuca was dying. There was no hope left for him, as far as I’d heard. The underbelly of the city was rife with gossip, of who could’ve done this to him. No one knew. No one imagined it was the girl from the club, because he hadn’t taken sick right away.

I didn’t know the whole story, but I knew Lola had met with Carl. I knew Tony had given her something for him, and she poured it in his drink. I knew all that, and yet I didn’t know why. Why Lola would listen to Tony without hesitation, why Tony would dare to upset the balance that has kept this city moving for the last twenty years.

Twenty years. I was ten when things were crazy around here, but I could barely remember those days. The Milanos owed the Lucianos a debt, and it was one my brother and I paid every single day, one we would continue to pay until we died. Blood debts were not something you paid back easily, but I knew they’d helped us, so much more so than the DeLucas ever did.

Neither family was without its dangers, but I would remain on the Lucianos’ side forever, as would my brother.

As we searched the city for Tony, as the hours turned into days and we still had neither hide nor hair of him, I found myself worrying about Lola more and more. It was her fault this was happening, but she didn’t know. She didn’t know the history she was stepping into. She was a girl that acted without thinking, that much we already knew, so something like this shouldn’t come as a shock.

Mike and I were in a bar that was neutral territory. Neither the Lucianos nor the DeLucas owned it or the management. I knew Tony had visited this bar a few times, but I didn’t know whether he’d come here recently. Tony and I, we weren’t exactly buddies. We weren’t close friends. We worked with each other when we had to, we knew of each other, but his disloyalty would not cause me any lost sleep.

Now, Lola, on the other hand? There was no way the DeLucas had turned her, so I didn’t doubt her loyalty to the family that pretty much owned her, body and soul. Still, I worried for her safety. Richard wouldn’t take this lying down, and the last time I’d given Sylvester a call to update him—basically to tell him that we were still empty-handed when it came to Tony—I’d asked about her as nonchalantly as I could.

I’d done my best to take a step back from her, to not let my mind and body get ahead of myself, to not let feelings swallow my heart, but it was so fucking hard when I looked at her and saw how broken she was. The crazy facade she put out was just that: a front, a show. It wasn’t her true self, and anyone who didn’t realize that was stupid.

But she wasn’t mine. She would never be mine. I belonged to the Lucianos as much as she did, so to let myself grow feelings for her was foolish. Yet here I was, worried about the serial killer.

Richard hadn’t killed her, though how long he would hold himself off from her had yet to be seen. The man was not known for his patience.

Mike and I headed to the bar counter, where the owner stood, drying some glasses with a rag. It was in the middle of the day, so hardly anyone else was here. I could tell he was trying not to stare as Mike and I approached him. My brother and I were not as well-known as, say, Maddox, but if anyone knew the Lucianos, they knew us.

My viper tattoos and my brother’s unnaturally big frame tended to remind people of that.

“Hey,” I spoke, leaning on the counter. We had weapons tucked beneath our shirts, should the need arise, but more often than not, all that was needed was a strong word or two, and some threatening postures. Most business owners simply wanted to stay in business. Alas, operating in a neutral area in this city was not enough to keep the families from appearing every now and then.

The barkeeper set down the glass he was currently cleaning, staring at me, finally. He was an older man, maybe in his fifties, with thick grey hair and a beard that was well-trimmed. “What can I do for you two gentlemen today?”

I glanced at my brother, who stood stoically behind me, his arms folded over his chest. He was an intimidating guy, unless you knew him. Sure, he would do whatever the job required, but if Big Mike had the choice, he’d stay home and watch cooking shows all day. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my brother, but he and I were two very different people, even if we were twins.

“We didn’t come to drink,” I told the bartender. “We actually came here looking for a friend of ours.”

He leaned on the counter opposite me, staring me square in the face as he said, “I don’t get involved with your type.”

See, normally I wouldn’t care, but the type of tone he took with me just now, as if he thought less of us because of who we worked for—that irked me something fierce, and with the stress I’d been feeling lately, I was so not in the mood to deal with someone like that.

“Yeah, well, we’re here, and we’re not going anywhere until you tell us whether you’ve seen this man.” I pulled out my phone, where, upon unlocking the screen, a picture of Tony popped up. He was not looking directly at the camera, and it was a few years old; it wasn’t like we took pictures of each other all the time like college girls going out clubbing every weekend, but it was the best we could do, given the circumstances. It wasn’t like we had picture day every year like the kids did in school.

The bartender’s beady eyes fell to the phone, and he took a moment to study the screen. His expression gave nothing away, and I couldn’t tell just by looking at him whether or not he’d seen Tony. Honestly, I doubted Tony had been in public at all since news broke of Carl DeLuca’s sickness. He had to have known that Lola would eventually talk, that the finger would eventually be pointed at him. He had to have a plan ready, an escape route.

Fuck, I still couldn’t believe this was happening. When you lived through things every single day, you tended to get used to them. You became accustomed to your situations and circumstances, and you started to believe that they’ll never change.

But they did. Things always changed, and sometimes not for the better. This change wouldn’t be for the better, we all knew it. I couldn’t fault Lola for not knowing; it wasn’t like she’d grown up around us. She didn’t know what would happen if Carl died, whereas we did. We knew what bloodshed the Bloody Princess would wreak—and with a smile on her face, too.

“No,” the bartender spoke, shaking his head once. “Never seen him.”

“Well, if you do happen to—” I was moments away from saying if he ever did see Tony around here to contact us, but the door to the bar opened, shadows entering. Both Mike and I turned our heads to see a group of four men walk in, their grizzly faces wearing frowns and barely concealing their hatred for us.

DeLucas. Not by last name, but men loyal to them. The grunts. The ones who did the dirty work, kind of like us, as much as I didn’t want to admit it.

My back straightened, and I pushed off the bar, sliding my phone into my pocket as the group of men approached us. The swagger they held, it was almost comical, but I knew better than to laugh. We were outnumbered here. Even if I pulled out my gun, at most I’d be able to shoot one of them, maybe two, before the others shot me. Same with Mike. Not good odds, and nowhere nearby to take cover, unless you counted the bar—in which case, hopping over it and ducking would take entirely too much time. Bullets were a lot faster than that.

“What do we have here?” The man in the front of the group cocked his head as he spoke, eyeing Mike and me up as if we weren’t welcome here. A ridiculous notion, since this was neutral territory.

Or, at least, it used to be.

“We ain’t here to start a fight,” I said, knowing it would be best to mitigate the situation, otherwise all of us might not leave here alive, and I didn’t want to take the chance that me or my brother would be the losers in this fight. The odds weren’t good. “We’re just—”

The men wore all black, their hair greasy and their chins full of stubble. They looked just as you would imagine grunts would: almost faceless, uniform. The world would not miss them if they died, though I couldn’t help but wonder if the world would indeed miss me if I died, or Mike.

Would we be mourned? Would we be missed? Some days I did wonder.

“I don’t give a shit why you’re here,” the man in the front spoke, approaching us with a confidence he should not have. But he did. The DeLucas and their followers… they grew ballsier by the day, even though their head honcho was on his deathbed. Seemed ass-backward, but who was I to judge? These guys were probably waiting for Carl to die, itching for war with the Lucianos.

It was a war we wouldn’t win. We didn’t have the numbers anymore, and with traitors in our midst… we definitely didn’t have enough to win. Even with a serial killer on our side, it wouldn’t be enough.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he added, narrowing his eyes.

Behind the counter, the bartender said nothing, but I could tell he flicked his gaze between us, wondering if there’d be a shootout, if his business would get fucked because of two families colliding.

“Last I checked,” I growled out, resisting the urge I had to reach for my gun, knowing it wouldn’t be smart, “this was neutral territory.”

“Yeah,” the man said, nodding once, “but you know what they say, right? Things are a-changing.” Behind him, his cronies laughed.

I wanted to roll my eyes at him, but I held back. To my brother, I said, “Come on. It’s getting too crowded in here.” I started toward the door, and the cronies behind the leader of four parted—but the man himself didn’t.

I stopped when I stood before him, a bit taller than him and a hell of a lot more impressive. Whereas he was a thin, greasy man with skin so pale he looked sick, I was the opposite: thick, solid, tattooed and intimidating.

“Times,” I growled out when the man wouldn’t get the hell out of my way.

His tough guy exterior faded somewhat as he blinked. “What?”

“Times,” I repeated, Mike standing like a mountain behind me. “It’s times are a-changing, not things.” As the man was thinking on it, I pushed past him, Mike right behind me. We left the bar, and started toward our car, which was parked a little ways down the street. Fortunately, those idiots didn’t follow us.

Once we were inside the car, me in the passenger’s seat and Mike in the driver’s, I let out a sigh. That whole encounter was a bad omen, I knew. As much as I didn’t want that guy to be right, he was. Times, they were a-changing, and not for the better. Not for the Lucianos, at least. They were a family constantly struggling to maintain the hold they’d had on this city for the last few decades, the power and prestige that came with it.

And they were losing, slowly but surely.

“Big Richie’s not going to like that,” I muttered as my brother started the car. We pulled out onto the road, heading to our next destination. I was starting to lose track of where we’d been and where we still had to go. All for Tony. All because of Tony.

All my brother did in response was grunt.

I leaned on the side door, my elbow propped up, my chin against my fist as I watched the city go by. “I’m worried,” I muttered. I wouldn’t dare tell anyone else that; only Mike, and that was partially because he was usually so silent. I wasn’t concerned with him telling anyone what I was about to say. Plus, the big lug was my brother, and blood was everything.

That got Mike to say, “Tony?”

“No, not about Tony. I’m worried we’re at a turning point,” I bit out, frowning to myself, my face mirrored on the window. “A war will erupt between the DeLucas and the Lucianos, and it’s only a matter of time until they wipe us out. They have the numbers. We don’t. As much as Richie wants to posture and act like we haven’t lost any power these last twenty years, we have.”

It was a long while before Mike said, “We’ll do what we can.” There was a long, pregnant silence before he added, “That’s all we can do, really.”

I chuckled at that. He didn’t say much, but he wasn’t wrong. At this point, there was no going back. We were on the path to destruction, and it was up to us how we handled it. Mike and I, we were Milanos. My family had a history of going down fighting, and Mike and I wouldn’t break that tradition.

You know what they said: if you stood for nothing, you fell for anything. And Mike and I, well, we would stand for the Lucianos until our legs could not hold us up any longer.

Hours later, with empty hands and not a single clue as to where Tony was hiding, my phone rang. Night had fallen, and it was as Mike and I were leaving a warehouse that my phone began to buzz in my pocket. I expected it was Richie, calling to see if we had any luck in locating and procuring the elusive Tony Torio, but as my eyes fell to the screen, I saw it wasn’t the big man.

It was his son, his adopted one, Sylvester.

Sylvester and Maddox were supposed to stay in the house, just in case. With Carl dying, there was no telling that the DeLucas would wait until their patriarch died before starting the war. They might just decide to rev it up and get it going, and Maddox and Sylvester would be the biggest targets, along with Richie. With Mario dead, they were all that was left of the Lucianos and their legacy.

A sad thing, because their family used to be so big, even bigger than the DeLucas.

“Sylvester,” I spoke as I answered the phone. Mike and I walked back to the car, and my brother got in, but I waited near the door, listening to the man on the other line. It was wrong, but I thought of Lola then, how she’d been with him and Maddox at the house these past few days. I shouldn’t have feelings for her, but I did. I did, and no matter how much I fought them, they never seemed to disappear.

That was just another disaster in the waiting.

“Viper,” he said. “I assume since you’re not back yet, you haven’t found him? I haven’t heard anything else from any of the others.”

“No,” I said, hating that we were empty-handed. There were only so many places in this city one could hide… and yet, there were places that Mike and I could not go to, lest we risk getting shot on sight. The DeLuca house, for one—but there was no way Tony could’ve holed himself in there, right?

“I figured. That’s not why I called, though. I can’t find Maddox. I’ve looked everywhere in the house.” Sylvester paused, and I imagined him pacing as he usually did when he was anxious about something. He, unlike Maddox, was the one who thought things through. Mad Maddox, on the other hand, always did things without thinking of the consequences. Or caring.

I held in a sigh, knowing what he was going to say. Instead of searching for Tony, we’d be on a mission to retrieve Maddox. Great. It wouldn’t be the first time he went off the rails, but now was not a good time for him to go off and play at having no responsibilities.

Or hook up with other girls.

I mean, how the fuck could Maddox even look at other girls when he had Lola in the house?

“You know our father doesn’t want us out right now,” Sylvester whispered, and I nodded, as if he could see me through the phone. Stupid. “So I can’t go get him.”

That time, I didn’t stop myself from sighing, my annoyance evident. Maddox was… well, I couldn’t hate him because he was a Luciano, but sometimes—more often than not, really—he rubbed me the wrong way.

Don’t get me wrong, I sometimes enjoyed what we had to do, but Maddox was almost primal in his instincts, and he never hid the fact that he got off on spilling blood. He was a special kind of fucked up.

“Viper,” Sylvester spoke my name, snapping me out of my thoughts, “Lola’s gone, too. He must’ve taken her with him. I left them alone for a few minutes, and when I came back, they were both gone.”

Fuck. That changed things. Almost instantly, I was more than ready to leap into action, to track down the wild Luciano son and drag his ass back to the house while also carrying Lola. I swore to God, if that motherfucker got into trouble tonight, if something happened to Lola because he’d taken her with him, I’d… I’d…

Well, I’d feel like killing him, but I couldn’t exactly do that. I could imagine it, at least, over and over in many gruesome and gory ways.

“We’ll bring her back,” I said. And then, because I realized what I’d said, I had to add, “Both of them.” Right, because bringing Maddox back was more important than Lola. Had to remember that.

“Check the clubs,” Sylvester said, ignoring my misstep. “You know his favorites. Call me if you find them, and bring them straight home, no matter what my brother says. If you have to beat his ass, do it. He needs to be home before my father gets wind of it.” And then he hung up, leaving me to wonder just how we were supposed to beat Maddox’s ass.

Mmm. Maybe both Mike and I could take him together.

Yeah, he was that tough, at least when he was in bloodlust.

I got in the car, ducking my head as I lowered myself to the seat. Mike’s hazel eyes were staring at me, expectant, and I said, “It was Sylvester. Maddox and Lola are gone. We need to find them and bring them back to the house before Richie realizes they’re gone.”

Mike nodded, and then we were off to play fetch.

I did wonder, however, why Maddox took Lola with him.

Chapter Eight – Lola

When Maddox looked at me with those black, devious eyes and told me we should get out of the house for a bit, I was all for it, even though he wasn’t allowed to go out on the town because of what was happening with Carl DeLuca.

You only lived once, right? Live a little. Let loose. Let your freak out and let it shine and all that shit. I was a firm believer in not letting the stress of life get to you—okay, okay, that was kind of a lie, a teeny one, but that can be our little secret.

Any who, with Sylvester not watching us like a hawk, I hurried and got dressed, and then we were out, and now we were in a club, practically having sex on the dance floor. Hot and sweaty, our bodies grinding up against each other’s, his erection poking against his pants and my lower back unabashedly. Oh, I’d never get used to that monster of a dick.

It was nice, with the lights low and the music loud and the horde of other dancing bodies around us. For just a little while, he wasn’t Maddox Luciano and I wasn’t Lola Harding. We were just two people, letting loose and having fun, getting ourselves nice and worked up.

So what if it was dangerous being out right now? I, personally, didn’t give a flying rat’s ass whether or not it was safe, and it was more than obvious Maddox felt the same. We were alike in that way, though I didn’t think he would ever admit we were similar.

Being in that house, all cooped up like chicken in a pen, was hard. Cue the whining, because it so totally was. A gal couldn’t be locked up like a prisoner forever. Even my fucked-up parents had let me out of the house for school and lessons and all that.

And the doctor’s visits, but now was not a good time to remember those.

In fact, Maddox and I were at the same club we’d found him at before. The same club where I’d had a mini panic attack and imagined my brother’s face staring down at me. Yeah, that night hadn’t been too great, but I got through it. It was easier to forget about everything that haunted me when I had such rough, possessive hands roaming up and down my body, cupping my ass and squeezing my tits in full view of anyone nearby.

Fuck it, I say. Let ‘em watch. Let’s give ‘em a show.

I turned my body so I now ground my front against his, feeling his hard cock through his pants twitching against my stomach. I dipped low, dragging my body up in tune with the beat of the music pounding through the speakers. I’d changed into a tiny black dress, matching the clothes Maddox wore—I didn’t think he owned anything that wasn’t black, honestly.

Even though Maddox looked at me like he hated me, every so often I saw something else residing in those black eyes. Lust, hunger, desire. Those things of course. You didn’t have to love someone to want to fuck them like an animal.

But, no, I meant other things. More emotion, just… more.

And that, frankly, scared me half to shit, because a heart as bloodied as Maddox’s combined with mine? That was a recipe for disaster. A beautiful, bloody, biblical disaster. And yet I could not stop myself from stoking the flames, from egging him on, from wanting more, in spite of everything.

My hands were on his shoulders, and I drew them down his chest, feeling the strong muscles beneath his shirt. He was a man on his own level, his body covered in black tattoos. Half his head shaved, he even had tattoos up that half of his skull. I could only imagine how much those had to hurt—but then again, maybe they didn’t hurt at all. Maybe Maddox was like me in that respect too, feeling no pain where he should.

The club around us faded away, all of the people surrounding us disappearing as I gazed up into his eyes. As black as they were, they were still pretty. Dark and ominous, whispering dangerous things that excited me to my core.

If I didn’t grow up like I did, if I would’ve had a normal upbringing, a man like Maddox would scare me half to death. He was a man who would never be approved of by parents, a man who, I bet, would never let himself get nailed down for long. Never get married, never have kids unless it was an accident—he’d leave the heirs to the Luciano throne to his brother.

Or he’d try to. Whether or not Daddy Luciano would let him shirk his duties like that, well, I guess we’d see. Either way, I wouldn’t be a part of it. I couldn’t have kids. In the long run, if they chose not to kill me, I would be useless to them. Just a fuck toy.

Just a body.

My happy mood instantly turned sour, and I turned my face down and away from Maddox, wondering why the fuck that bothered me so much. I shouldn’t care. This was supposed to be my final rodeo, the last ride… basically a glorified final countdown to my death at the hands of this family.

God, these feelings. They were such a pain in the ass. Where was the emotion switch that I could turn off when things got to be too much? Why couldn’t I be numb again, like I used to be for so many years growing up?

I decided to pull away from him, and his arms turned to steel around me, refusing to let me go. So, I did the one thing I knew would get him to release me: I looked him in the eye, gave him a big smile and a bat of my eyelashes, and said, “I have to tinkle.” Of course, I had to yell it since the music was so loud, but Maddox got the not-so-subtle hint and let me go.

I pushed my way through the crowd, going to the restrooms that were in the back of the club. There was a bit of a line, but I cut everyone, needing some time to myself. The girls in line all mumbled, but none of them stopped me. Probably because I looked a little deranged.

The moment I walked in, I froze, seeing a girl at the sinks, reapplying her lipstick. Short black hair that held a bit of a curl, porcelain skin which held not a single blemish I could see, her thin body wearing a tight, shiny dress made of a dark grey hue—I recognized her. Oh, I recognized her immediately.

The girl Maddox had disappeared with the last time he’d gone off on a bender. He’d been here, at this club with her, when we’d found him, dancing away.

Mina.

My blood boiled when I saw her, and I watched her finish her touch-ups and spin to walk out of the restroom. Her heeled feet stopped when she saw me, and her eyes took me in quickly. She was pretty, I’d give her that. She had big, blue eyes just a shade darker than my own, a doll-like face men were sure to adore.

I hated her. I hated her so much. I hated her an unreasonable amount, considering the fact that Maddox wasn’t my boyfriend. We were just… well, I didn’t know how to explain what Maddox and I were, but that didn’t matter. I felt what I felt and I was not used to it.

Jealousy was so not me, and yet here I was, standing in Mina’s way, refusing to step away and let her out of the restroom.

She gave me a tight smile, eyeing me up. I didn’t know if she knew who I was or not; it didn’t matter. I knew who she was, and that’s why I was rooted in place, glaring at her like I wanted to rip her pretty skin off.

“Uh,” she started, “can you move? You’re kind of in my way.”

“Yeah,” I said, “I bet I’m in your way a lot, huh?”

She blinked, tilting her head. “Excuse me?”

I smiled at her, taking a step toward her. There was less than a foot between us now. I didn’t know how long she’d been here, if she’d seen Maddox and me dancing, but I was about to find out, because I just couldn’t help myself.

“I heard you’re one of his favorites,” I spoke, making no moves to hide how I checked her out, making sure my expression read unimpressed the entire time. Giving this bitch the satisfaction of knowing how much she aggravated me simply by being here was the last thing I wanted to do.

“Who?” Even though she gave nothing away, I saw a small quirk of her lips. Full things they were, plump and soft-looking. I bet Maddox loved getting her on her knees.

“Don’t play stupid with me, Mina.”

“Is this about Maddox?” She let out a short chuckle. “Look, honey, I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care. That man might have his attention on you tonight, but next weekend it’ll be back on me, and you’ll be completely forgotten, as you should be.” Her blue eyes dipped low, and she acted just as unimpressed with me as I was her. “Let’s be honest, you’re nothing special.”

Wow. I knew girls fought dirty, said things that were untrue just to get under the skin of their rivals, but that—that was the first time anyone had ever told me I was ugly. Literally the first time in my entire life, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

I fucking laughed like I’d heard the world’s funniest joke.

That got her to waver. And as other girls came and left without washing their hands—ew—Mina spat out, “We’ll see who’s laughing once he tires of you, won’t we?” She said nothing else, walking out of the restroom by pushing past me, bumping her arm against mine on purpose, and pretty hard, too.

I stood there, spacing out, replaying what had just happened, all the while wondering why the fuck I felt so jealous. I mean, Maddox wasn’t mine. Sylvester wasn’t mine. Viper sure as hell wasn’t mine. None of the Lucianos or their lackeys were mine. I was the lowest on the totem pole, the bitch. The dog. The person who was the most expendable.

And yet Maddox had brought me to this club, even though I wasn’t supposed to leave the house unless I was on a job—and that was only with other people. This was almost like a date. But it wasn’t… right?

Ugh, see, there’s my confused, indecisive shadow peeking through again. God, I was really getting tired of her, you know? It’s like that bitch just couldn’t take a hint and get the fuck out of here, let me live and enjoy what little I had left of my life, you know? I didn’t need to be jealous and confused the whole time, having feelings and all that mushy shit. I wasn’t made for it, just like I wasn’t made for happy endings.

That said, it didn’t stop me from grinding my teeth as I moved toward the row of sinks, staring at myself in the mirror. My blonde hair was a bit sweaty from all of my dancing, its long tendrils hanging past my shoulders. My blue eyes were done up in just the barest hints of makeup—I didn’t doll myself up too much, since Maddox and I were kind of rushing to get out of the house before Sylvester knew what we were up to. My lips were bare of any lipstick, their color a natural pink.

My face looked just like it always did. Perfect. The kind of face that drew too much attention. I’d never really got much attention from other girls before, but maybe that was only because I’d kept my head down at school, going through my childhood years like a zombie, not wanting to make friends. Not having the capacity to.

My fingers gripped the edge of the sink hard, knuckles turning white as I remembered what Mina had said. That bitch thought Maddox would toss me aside, and by next weekend he’d be back with her. Oh, she had another thing coming. She had no idea what beast she’d just encountered, but I was keen on showing her.

Jaw grinding, I pushed off the sink and stormed out of the restroom, past the line of girls still waiting to use it. I stalked around the club, not heading for the dance floor to return to Maddox immediately, mostly because I needed to find Mina and teach her a lesson she wouldn’t soon forget.

She wasn’t at the bar, nor was she on the sidelines of the dance floor, which meant she was in the big masse of bodies grinding, somewhere.

I started toward the dancers, but a strong hand shot out and gripped my arm, stopping me. I was pulled backward, and I was seconds from decking whoever it was holding onto me in the throat when I saw it was Viper. Behind him, his brother stood, his arms crossed.

My fist loosened, and I said, “What are you doing here?” I was glad to see Viper—I’d missed him these last few days, though no way in hell would I ever tell him that.

“We were sent to look for you and Maddox.” He didn’t let go of my arm, holding onto me a bit roughly. Normally, I’d be down for it, but right now, I had a bitch to sniff out, a bubbly ass to kick, and a pretty face to tear up.

Ah, right. Should’ve figured Sylvester would see we were missing and have us dragged back to the house. I knew this night wouldn’t go off without a hitch, but now was just not good timing.

“Maddox is dancing,” I said, “and he’s expecting me back. Can’t you guys just hang out a little? Give us a few more minutes?” It didn’t seem like a completely unreasonable request. Of course, I wouldn’t use my time to return to Maddox; I’d use it to beat that bitch into the ground and shove my heel in her throat, but he didn’t need to know that.

Viper’s expression told me he did not want to give us a few more minutes, so I leaned toward him—hard to do since he still held onto my arm at an awkward angle—and kissed his cheek.

I was slow to pull back, feeling his fingers loosen their grip on my arm. “Please?” If Viper thought I was above begging, he was wrong. I’d get on my knees to beg for some time to beat that bitch up.

He let out a hard sigh as he let me go, muttering, “Fine. Five minutes.” Behind him, Mike rolled his eyes, probably wondering why Viper was so soft on me.

Not going to lie, it was nice, and I wasn’t going to look the gift horse in the mouth. Nope. I was simply going to turn around, march through the crowd, find that Mina, and teach her a lesson. And that’s exactly what I did.

Except the person I found her dancing with was mine.

The bitch had found Maddox and was grinding her ass on his dick like it was her job. If my blood was boiling before, it was pure lava in my veins now. It was like I had blinders on, seeing nothing else but her as I pushed through the crowd.

Mina saw me, gave me a wink, and then she spun and planted her lips on Maddox’s, throwing her arms around his neck. His hands were on her hips, and I couldn’t tell whether or not he was trying to pull her off him. It didn’t matter. All that mattered to me was the bitch, who was trying to rub it in my face—and she’d undoubtedly been grinding on his hard cock.

That was my dick, bitch.

Was I about to do something that I probably shouldn’t? Yes.

Was I seconds from doing something that would draw unnecessary attention to myself when I should just try to blend in? Also yes.

And was I going to do it anyway because I didn’t care? I think you knew the answer to that one already.

My fingers found her hair, and with a hard yank, I pulled her mouth off Maddox’s. I pulled that bitch so hard she stumbled back, his hands no longer on her hips. She fell to the floor, and the people dancing around us inched away, sensing the fight that was about to occur.

“Oh, no, you didn’t,” Mina spoke as she bared her teeth, the music changing to an even more fast-paced beat.

As I watched her get to her feet, I growled out, “Maddox is mine now, Mina.” Fucking Mina. Couldn’t she just take the hint and get the fuck out of here? I wasn’t above hitting another girl. I might’ve stalked the bars and clubs for men who would take advantage of girls, but that didn’t mean I was always a fan of other girls. Some, as it turned out, could be utter bitches just asking for my fist in their face.

Like Mina was right now.

She laughed. “Get the fuck out of here, bitch, before I make you—” Her threat fell on deaf ears, and though Viper and Mike couldn’t see what was going on, too many people in between us, Maddox watched the show with a dark smirk on his face, his hands shoved in his pockets, as if he didn’t have a hard dick poking at his pants.

A dick that Mina had been grinding on. Again, my dick.

“As if you could,” I spoke. Yeah, I might’ve purposefully egged her on a bit. Sue me. I’d let her have the first punch—or slap, or whatever—and then I’d go Rambo on that bitch. She wouldn’t know what hit her. Hint: I had nothing to lose, and that made me dangerous.

That’s all it took for Mina to curl her fingers into a fist and throw her arm at me. I moved just in time; she missed my face completely. As I dodged her punch, I ducked and tackled her to the ground. We had an audience now, everyone around us having stopped dancing, their stares on us. No one intervened.

I landed two fists in her face before the wily bitch managed to roll me under her, having a strength that surprised me. She hit me in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me before grabbing a fistful of my hair and holding my head still as she wailed on me. The girl had a pretty decent punch; I had to hand it to her.

I started laughing, because I was me, because I wasn’t afraid of this girl or what she could do to me. I laughed, and that only irritated her more.

It didn’t matter much, though, for Viper appeared, having pushed his way through the crowd. He wrapped his arms around Mina and hauled her off me, which let me hop to my feet, surprisingly well-balanced in the heels I wore.

As Viper handed Mina off to Mike to help cool her down, he tossed an annoyed look at Maddox, who simply shrugged, as if he’d been having the time of his life watching two girls fight over him.

I swiped at my mouth, my stomach hurting a bit from her earlier blow. It’d probably bruise, and my face? Well, I guess I’d have to wait and see whether I’d need to apply a shit ton of makeup to hide bruises during the Gilded Rose’s opening night. Of course, that was assuming I was still singing there. Hadn’t heard anything, but with Carl dying, things might change.

But back to the matter at hand. Or, rather, back to the bitch who was currently—and pointlessly—struggling against Mike’s hold.

We got off the dance floor, and no one dared near us. Maddox stood near me, which made me shoot a smile at Mina. Mike was slow in letting her go, and she adjusted her dress, glaring at me all the while.

“Great,” Viper muttered. “Now, can we go?”

“Sure,” I said. Everyone turned to leave, even me—but after a few steps away from the glaring Mina, I stopped, turned back around, and met her blue eyes. They were more like shadows in the darkness of the club than anything else.

I gave her a smile, walking up to her slowly, not acting threatening in the least. The guys behind me had stopped; Viper was calling out my name, but this was something I had to do, you see. To let this carry on would be stupid. Best put an end to this right here, right now.

I said nothing, and I stopped only when I stood right in front of her, close enough to do what I was about to. If Mina wanted to test me, she’d get my horns… or my knife. Right now, fortunately for her, I didn’t have any knives on me, so this little message would have to do.

Without warning, without so much as a blink, I brought my head back and whipped it forward as hard and as fast as I could, slamming my skull against hers so forcefully I momentarily saw tons of black dots in my field of vision. A headbutt of epic proportions, a head-slam so rough and so sudden it caused her to stumble back and fall to the ground.

Me? I was fine. After I blinked a couple times, I was perfectly fine. Sure, my brain hurt a little bit, but pain was nothing.

“Stay away from him,” I said, speaking in a low voice, almost a monotone. “Or else you’ll see what I’m really capable of, bitch.” A warm trickle of blood oozed down my forehead; I must’ve broken the skin when I headbutted her. I let the blood course its way down, feeling it tickle as it reached the bridge of my nose. I bet I looked crazy.

Good. Sometimes you had to be crazy to get shit done.

Saying nothing else, I spun on my heels and returned to the guys. Mike almost looked impressed, while Maddox’s stare held gallons of lust that I could feel pouring out of him. Watching that, I’d bet anything, had turned him the fuck on. Honestly, it got me all worked up in the right ways, too.

And Viper? Well, Viper looked like he just wanted to get the hell out of this club right now. That was something we could do.

The night air was cool, a shock compared to the heated warmth of the club. All those bodies mashing together with the beat of the music, getting myself all worked up because of that dumbass Mina—I almost shivered as we stepped outside. Almost.

“We’ll follow you home,” Maddox spoke, reaching for me. If I had to guess, I’d say we’d take a side street or two and fuck in the car.

But Viper was able to reach for me first, pulling me towards him and immediately earning himself a thunderous, possessive growl from Maddox’s chest. “I don’t think so,” he said, not backing down from the Luciano. “Mike will go with you. Lola’s coming with me. I don’t trust you not to take a detour with her. Your brother wants you home before your father realizes you’re gone, so that’s what we’re going to do.”

Maddox might usually have the upper hand when it came to Viper and Mike and telling them what to do, but in this case, he had to have known Viper was right, for he let out a harsh sigh. “Fine.” He glanced to Mike. “Come on, big guy.” Though he didn’t want to take him, though he wanted me, Maddox got in the car with Viper’s brother.

Which left me and Viper.

Viper led me to his car, not once letting me go, as if he couldn’t trust me or something. The only reason he finally released me was because he couldn’t hold onto me and get in the driver’s seat at the same time. It was kind of sexy to see Viper take charge and tell Maddox what to do, frankly. It made for a nice switch.

After Viper started the car, he leaned over me, opening the glovebox and reaching for something inside. A… a few extra napkins from McDonald’s? Not what I was expecting to be stashed in there, but okay.

He handed them to me, saying, “Clean yourself up.”

“What?” I pouted, lowering the vizor and seeing myself in the mirror there. Dark maroon stained an inch of my hairline around my forehead, a nice trail of it down my white skin, all down my nose, now gathering around my mouth. “You don’t like me in red, Viper?”

Huh. That headbutt must’ve been harder than I thought it was, to break skin like that. I mean, it did knock that bitch to the floor, so it had to be pretty fucking hard. Still, Viper was probably right. Walking into the Luciano house with blood on me would only worry Sylvester, and he was probably mad enough with me and Maddox slipping out.

“I don’t care what you wear,” he said. “But Sylvester will flip if he knows I stood back and let you get into it with Mina.” He put the car in drive and pulled onto the road as I dabbed off the blood and did my best to clean myself. “What were you thinking, Lola?”

I shot him a look. “I was thinking, that bitch is grinding on my dick. And then, that bitch is making out with my dick.” As I spoke, I saw a muscle in Viper’s jaw tighten, but the man said nothing in response.

Not sure how to take that.

Shrugging, I said, “I had to teach her a lesson. She was asking for it.” Bundling up the used tissues, I stuffed them in the cup holders between us, not knowing where else to put them. There was still a bit of blood in my hairline, but a shower was needed to get to it. The wound wasn’t deep; it was already done bleeding. “I know I’m not going to be around forever, but I’m here now, and I’m not going to sit back and do nothing while another bitch tries to take what’s mine.”

Viper was silent for a while, for a long while. I wondered if I’d said too much, if I’d hurt him by calling Maddox’s dick mine. Hey, it was the truth. It was what I felt, okay? Sure, I might be feeling a range of strange things for these guys, but in that club, it was like I had a one-track mind.

I was starting to wonder if he was going to be silent like his brother during the drive, but finally he spoke, “You have it backward, you know.”

Now, it was my turn to say nothing.

“Maddox, Sylvester… they don’t belong to you. You belong to them, to Richie.”

His words were true. I couldn’t deny them, not even a little, but that said, nor could I deny the way I felt about the guys. As much as I hated it, as much as I felt so confused by the new feelings inside me, I couldn’t change them. I couldn’t change the fact that I felt like Maddox was mine, Sylvester was mine… hell, even Viper. They were all mine. My psychos. My crazies. My killers.

Mine, mine, mine.

For once, I wanted to claim something. For the first time in my entire life, I wanted things which I knew I had no right to: devotion, trust… even love. Idiotic, considering I was only here to repay the debt of killing Dickless and would die once I was no longer needed or useful.

So stupid. So fucking stupid. Love… it wasn’t for me. I’d learned that years ago, so could someone please tell me why I felt these things?

“And what about you?” I found myself asking, staring down at my lap, at my hands. Though they were my hands, they didn’t look right. They’d killed. They’d done things that would haunt normal people. They’d done so much, and yet not enough. No matter what happened, regardless of what I did, it would never be enough.

Viper was quiet for a moment. “What about me?”

“If I would’ve caught you dancing with someone else, if I would’ve seen a girl’s lips on yours,” I paused, letting the words sink in, “I would’ve reacted the same way.” I was basically confessing to him that I had feelings for him, too.

Viper’s hands tightened on the wheel, so much so that his knuckles were white. I wondered if he was fighting himself, if he wanted to take those hands and bring them to me, if he wanted to touch me again—only this time, run those hands up and down my body as they had in the past, in the dark, when no one else was looking. Not Sylvester, not Maddox, not Mike. Just us.

He could be rough. He could be just as wild and vicious as the rest of them, but I think, deep down, he had the softest side of them all.

“You shouldn’t lump me in with Maddox and Sylvester,” Viper muttered. “They are Lucianos. I’m not.”

“So?”

“So,” he bit out, “if anything were to happen between us, we’d have to get their approval.” He shot a look at me, his hazel eyes saying more than his words ever could. “Do you think they’d be happy to hand you over to me? Do you think we’d take turns with you every weekend? That’s not how any of this works.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know how the fuck any of this works!” I might’ve raised my voice more than I meant to. “You think I’m used to having feelings like these, Viper? Do you think I like having you three taking up my thoughts all the fucking time?” I breathed hard, the anger in me evident. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted someone to catch me, to get the fucking electric chair? I dreamed of it. For years, that’s what I wanted.”

To die in a spectacle. To have my death go down in history, for no one to forget my name. The Night Slayer. For men to wonder, even if it was only for a split-second, if a similar killer waited for them around the corner at the clubs and bars. Oh, God, it’s what I’d wanted for so long.

“And then I killed the little Luciano,” I went on, sounding hysterical—and that’s because I was. I was beyond keeping my emotions bottled up and under control. Let them take the wheel, like that song said about Jesus. “And now… now I’m surrounded by men that make me feel alive for the first time in my life. Now I want things I never wanted before. It’s all so much.” I brought my hands to my hair, running my fingers through its blonde length, tugging hard, as if creating more pain would snap me out of this.

“Lola…” All Viper could say was my name, but it was too late. I was too far gone.

Hell, if I wouldn’t have had a seatbelt on, I think I’d be rocking back and forth, the stereotypical crazy person position. Yep. That’s me. Night Slayer. Lola Harding. Completely and utterly batshit crazy.

“Now, I don’t want to die,” I muttered, frowning to myself, digging my hands in my face. It was the first time I’d ever admitted it to someone else out loud, and the shame I felt right then and there could not be described. I made such a big show about having no fear, having lost my mind back when I lost my innocence, and yet look at me now.

How pathetic.

Viper said nothing, and maybe that was for the best. Nothing he could say or do would make me feel better. I was destined for misery, I guess. I would never know happiness, even though a part of me now craved it. Stupid. Fucking stupid. I wish I could bang my head against a wall and revert back to my old self. It was so much easier being that girl and not the confused one I was now.

The drive felt both too long and not long enough. Getting back to that house… I didn’t want to see Sylvester or Maddox right now. Hell, I didn’t want to be in the same room as Viper, and after my stunt with the mad brother, I’d bet Viper and Mike would be back on guard duty instead of searching for Tony.

By the time we arrived at the Luciano house, I was no longer pulling at my hair like I could cut into my skull, pop out my brain, and switch it with a new one, so that was good. What was not good, though, was the fact that Sylvester was still up and waiting for us, his arms crossed as he stood in the front vestibule, watching us come in.

The lights were off, so maybe he wouldn’t see the blood in my hair.

He would still see all he needed, and that was me coming in with Viper and Maddox coming in with Mike just ahead of us. At least the drive gave Maddox’s cock some time to calm down. The same could be said of my mood swings, I guess.

“What in the world were you thinking?” Sylvester spoke, mostly speaking to his brother—though he did toss a glance at me. “Now is not the time to go off and do whatever you want.”

“It never is,” Maddox grumbled, mimicking Sylvester’s stance as he took his brother head-on. “Unlike you, I don’t want to be stuck in this house for the rest of my life. I like getting out there, I like seeing the city. I refuse to be kept in this house like a dog just because our father is worried about the DeLucas—”

“He’s worried that a war will start,” Sylvester cut in.

“He’s always worried about a war. How is that different from any other point in our lives? Remember the year he wanted us to be homeschooled?” Maddox chuckled, though it was a bitter sound. “Yeah, our father has always been worried. He’s let it interfere with his life, and I won’t be like him. You can, but I won’t.” It looked as if he wanted to say more, but he bit his tongue and stormed off.

Sylvester watched his brother go, letting out a heavy sigh as he turned to me. His blonde hair was a bit greasy, as if he hadn’t washed it yet today. He wore the same suit he’d been wearing earlier; he definitely took after his father in that respect. The look he gave me was not one that caused my stomach to harden or my thighs to clench. It just made my heart hurt, for whatever reason.

My heart. I know. As if the muscle was still capable of feeling. Apparently, to my surprise, it was. It was a remarkably tough organ.

“And you,” Sylvester spoke, his voice low as he stepped toward me. “Lola, you should’ve known better, too. You’ve been lucky so far with everything you’ve done, but eventually your luck will run out, and my father will not take kindly to you helping Maddox act out.”

Mike and Viper hung back, quiet as mice. Under his intense stare and disappointment, I nearly forgot we weren’t alone.

I stood there, staring at Sylvester, wondering why his words caused such a heaviness in my chest. I didn’t want his disappointment. Fuck. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I just thought it’d be fun to get out for a bit. You can go mad staying in a house like this. Even my parents didn’t keep me locked up.”

Sylvester’s next words hit me like knives: “I’m not your parents. I’m not your family.”

Maybe it was because of what I’d confessed to Viper in the car earlier, but Sylvester’s words hurt me more than I thought they would. They hurt a lot. His words made me remember that nothing I felt mattered. I didn’t matter.

Right.

I managed a smile, acting like it was fine. Like everything was fine. “Well, is it all right if I go take a shower and hop into bed, then? Since I have to ask you permission for everything, you know, because I’m a temporary prisoner here until you kill me.” The truth. It was a truth I’d known all along but forgot about along the way.

The mask, the hot sex, the prolonged looks and occasional sweet words… it all meant nothing. It meant absolutely nothing at all, and I was fine with it.

Or I would be.

Or I’d die, never being fine with it. Guess we’d have to wait and see which one.

Sylvester looked as if he wanted to say something, but he held back, simply giving me a nod and stepping out of my way. I walked past him, holding my head high, pretending everything was alright with the world. It would be, just not with me. Nothing would ever be okay for me, and that was my eternal torture.

I went to my room first, to grab some pajamas before heading to the bathroom across the hall. I found Viper there, waiting for me. It seemed I was right and he was once again my guard. Yippee. I could not be more excited to return to the way things were.

I said nothing, closing the bathroom door behind me and starting to shed my clothes, piece by piece. Viper watched, but I paid him no attention.

The shower was not as calming as I hoped it would be. I turned the heat all the way up, letting the water scald and steam, but it wasn’t enough. I stood there, after rinsing out my hair of the bit of blood that remained from my headbutt, having long since fallen off the high I’d ridden while teaching Mina a lesson.

God, how stupid was I? Pretty dumb. I bet Maddox and Mina would have a laugh at me the next time they were together, whenever that was. Tomorrow. Next week. Didn’t matter, because, like I’d been reminded, none of these men belonged to me.

I stayed in the shower for a long time, standing in the water, trying to let it give me a baptism of some kind, wash away all the confusion and feelings and the other shit weighing me down. It didn’t work, but it was nice to close my eyes in the steamy air and picture a great expanse of nothing, of pure blackness around me.

That’s what I imagined death was like. A cold hug that never let you go. I couldn’t forget that’s where I was headed, that this family would kill me for what I’d done.

I stepped out, wrapping a towel around me while avoiding eye contact with Viper. I left both the dress and heels I’d worn to the club and the pajamas I’d gotten, walking barefoot to my room. Who needed pajamas? I didn’t. Everything could just go fuck itself, including those soft, satiny pajamas.

Leaving the light off in my room, I knew Viper had followed me, knew he would be right behind me, closing my bedroom door for me. I stood near the bed, and a few seconds later, I heard just that. Reaching for the towel, I dropped it to the floor and crawled into bed, my hair a wet, un-brushed mess I’d surely regret in the morning, but I didn’t care.

Why should I care about anything? I had no reason to. There was no purpose in me trying to look good. Whatever feelings I thought the Lucianos reciprocated, well, that was just me projecting what I felt onto them.

Buried under the blankets, I sighed to myself a noiseless sound. Time ticked on, minute by minute, and I didn’t fall asleep. The cold embrace of a temporary death for the night did not come to me, which was downright annoying. If ever there was a night I wanted to end immediately, it was this one.

God, couldn’t I go back to stalking the clubs and killing the sleazebags? How I missed those days.

My mind wandered, going in all directions—not something good if you were trying to get to sleep, but at this point I didn’t see why it mattered if I got any. It wasn’t like I had to be in top form. I had absolutely nothing to look forward to, so why bother? Why bother with any of it? Ugh, I wanted to dig out that metal mask and break it.

But I loved that mask, and I loved what it was supposed to signify.

Somehow, in spite of all odds, I must’ve dozed off a bit. Not for long, for when I came to, it was still pitch-black in the bedroom; however, I was no longer alone in the bed. A warm, solid presence lay behind me, spooning me, giving me his strength. One of his hands draped over my side, his rough fingertips lightly touching my hip.

I didn’t need to roll over and see his face to know who it was. I knew it was my guard, Viper, the one who constantly wrestled with himself about me. It wasn’t like I could blame him for that, and really, I couldn’t blame anyone in this house for hating me after killing Dickless, but still… it was nice to pretend I wasn’t abhorred completely.

A grin crossed my face, a tiny one, one that was not faked. It was a real smile, as small as it was, brought about by Viper. Go figure.

This time, when I closed my eyes, sleep came a-knocking.

The sun’s light came far too soon. I wanted nothing more than to sleep a couple more hours, let the beginning of the day get away from me. And, what was more, I wanted to do it with Viper, to wake up in a bit and still feel his solid, heated presence behind me, his arm still draped over me and his breath even in my ear.

It was nice.

A hardness pressed up against my ass, and I couldn’t help myself: I wiggled my ass against it, further stirring it, causing his morning wood to become even more rock-hard. From what I could tell, Viper was still asleep. The man slept like a rock.

If anyone in this house knew Viper had crawled into bed with me and slept with me instead of guarding me, they’d throw a fit. Maybe they’d hurt him. It would behoove us both for him to wake his ass up and get out of this bed… but before that happened, we could have a little fun, first.

Last night sucked something major. I didn’t want a repeat of it. No, if anything, I wanted to forget all about it, and there was nothing better than a good dicking to help you forget about your problems.

With a little wiggling of my ass, his cock was like steel, and I slowly inched away from him, giving myself enough room to turn around. He stirred a bit, but all in all, the man still seemed to be asleep, and the rebel in me loved it. Since we were no longer spooning, he moved to lay on his back, which was actually quite fortuitous, because I was able to get at his pants and the cock there a hell of a lot easier than I would’ve otherwise.

In a moment, I had his pants undone and his dick in my hand. Straddling him, I stroked it once, hearing him moan. Oh, I didn’t have much time before he woke up, so why not go for the home run? He might say we couldn’t be together because he was not a Luciano and couldn’t make that call, but if his dick was inside me, I didn’t doubt he’d give in.

Holding onto his dick, I guided myself down onto it, slipping it inside me inch after inch. He was long, and he filled me up easily. I heard myself moan as I rocked my hips once.

Viper’s eyes opened, and he tried to sit up, but I reached out and held his chest down. If he used all of his strength, he could push me off him, but he wouldn’t. Why would he when he’d woken up to getting his dick wet? If I was a guy, that’d be how I would want to wake up every day.

I said nothing, gyrating my hips again and causing his eyes to flutter and his head to fall back down to the pillow. “Lola,” he whispered my name like a curse, like a sweet, savory, bitter curse. “What are you… you shouldn’t be doing this.”

My lungs hummed with glee, and I leaned my top half down, still rocking my hips along his cock. “I think you mean we, because this is something that’s hard to do by myself.” Unless there was a dildo laying around somewhere, but you didn’t get the full experience that way.

“You should get off,” he murmured, his pupils dilated and glazed over with lust.

“I think we both know that’s not going to happen, so just shut up and let me fuck you,” I whispered, leaning down to lick his lips, tasting his next groan as it escaped him. Such a low, gravelly sound, it caused my inner core to heat up.

This was probably a bad idea, a really bad idea, but like most bad ideas, the fact it wasn’t smart wasn’t going to make me stop and think about it. I was going to fuck Viper, and nothing and no one would stop me. I’d missed him lately, even though I shouldn’t have. These things I felt… I couldn’t help it. My heart, my feelings—everything was just so much.

Maybe a good fuck would help get my mind off it all. A gal could hope.

Seeing Viper’s body beneath mine, watching his strong chest rise and fall with each breath beneath the fabric of his shirt, it was something else. Maddox would never let me take a position like this during sex, and I highly doubted Sylvester would, either. There was something to say about being the one in control, about being the one on top. I knew why the guys loved it, why they craved it so much, why having all the power when it came to sex made all the difference.

Having the power… it reminded me of the old days, the days I wished I could go back to, sometimes. My Night Slayer days, when I could go off and do whatever the fuck I wanted to whoever the fuck I wanted, when I wasn’t stuck in this house, under the watchful eyes of this family.

Still, though a part of me wanted to go back, I knew I never would, and so I relished whatever little time I had left.

I rocked along Viper’s cock roughly, causing him to let out a thunderous moan that I felt echo in my own lungs. My hair lined with sweat, my body worked of its own accord as I rode that cock until we both came.

Viper came first, unsurprisingly. Guys had it so easy, pump, pump, groan, cum shoots out, yada, yada, yada. For us gals, it took a bit more work than that.

My eyes were slits as I watched Viper come beneath me, his body tensing, all the muscles on his top half jerking as his cock emptied itself inside of me. Seeing him unravel, seeing him shut his eyes violently and hearing that moan escape his lips—all of that helped me reach my own precipice, my own ledge of pleasure I currently stared down.

Heated bliss ripped through me like a tidal wave, surging out from my core and devouring everything I was. My eyes slammed shut, my head fell back, and I let out a cry of pleasure that was quite strangled, considering there were no hands currently around my neck. My body felt light and airy, my blood like lava in my veins. Everything was hot, and I was on cloud nine, riding the high of the orgasm, still rocking on Viper’s cock.

His length was still hard, by the way. Still hard, still raring to go. I bet he and I could go more—

It was as I thought that particular thought when the door to the bedroom opened, and someone else stuck their head in my room. Maybe to wake me up. Maybe to drag me out of bed so he could eat breakfast with me. Regardless of why that blonde head poked into my bedroom, I knew this probably wasn’t good.

Why the fuck didn’t Viper lock the damn door before crawling into bed with me? Rookie mistake, dude.

Sylvester stood, one hand on the doorframe and the other on the doorknob, his blue eyes immediately locked on us. From where he stood, he could see my naked back, probably bits of my ass, too. He could definitely see the position Viper had beneath me, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what we would be doing in this position.

“Sylvester,” Viper managed to get out, sitting up—though I didn’t move, which didn’t help things, I’d bet. “I—it’s not what it—” The more Viper tried to talk, the more he fumbled, and the more he fumbled, the angrier the blonde at the doorway became.

He didn’t look like Maddox would if Maddox would’ve been the one to enter my room at that moment, but he still looked pretty pissed off. Like someone else was sniffing around his woman.

I mean, I wasn’t his woman. I thought, as he’d said last night, I was nothing but the property of his family. Just a dog, a bitch—and a crazy one at that—they could sic me on whoever they wanted. I didn’t mean anything to him or his brother.

That’s how I took it all, anyway.

“Viper,” Sylvester practically growled out the man’s name, and if there was ever a dick-killer, it was this. Being interrupted so rudely, having to report to the son of Daddy Luciano after fucking me when he was supposed to be watching over me.

Right, right. We did a bad thing. Sue me. It wasn’t the first bad thing I’d ever done in my life—fucking obviously—and it wouldn’t be the last. I was one hundred and ten percent sure I’d get my hands into trouble again. Or my va-jay-jay. Or, you know, every single part of me.

“Get dressed,” he growled, “and get your ass out here. Lola, do the same but stay in your room.” Sylvester said nothing else as he disappeared, leaving the door open as he went.

Shit.

I met eyes with Viper, noting how the lust was completely gone from his hazel stare… and the hardness of his cock inside me had waned almost entirely. “Sorry,” I muttered, not too sorry at all, really, but I did hope he wouldn’t be in too much trouble.

Viper rolled me off him, slipping his cock out of me, its length slick with our sex. He said nothing as he stood, stuffing himself in his pants and fixing himself up before leaving my room, leaving me alone.

Alone, again. Alone, only so Sylvester could yell at him.

Slowly, I got dressed. I didn’t go to the bathroom to clean myself up. The rebellious part of me wanted to have Viper’s cum staining my panties all day, a metaphorical middle finger to the Luciano brothers. Once I was dressed, I ran my fingers through my hair and I waited.

I waited and waited and waited. I didn’t know if someone would get me or not. Guess I’d have to, ahem, wait and find out.

I really did hope Sylvester wasn’t going at Viper too hard. I liked Viper. Viper, at least, was more upfront with his feelings. That was something I could deal with. The hot and cold personalities of both Luciano sons? Eh, got a little tiring, you know, having to deal with all that constantly.

Laying down on my bed, staring at the ceiling, I grinned to myself. Viper might get in trouble, I might get in trouble, but it was totally worth it. Good dickings always were.

Chapter Nine – Sylvester

To think, I’d gone to Lola’s room to apologize for what I’d said last night—I shouldn’t have lashed out at her for an idea my brother had. So she’d gone along with him to the club, so what? That didn’t give me any right to treat her like that, to say those things. Basically, to tell her she meant nothing to me.

That couldn’t have been further from the truth, and yet sometimes I could be a hothead much like Maddox.

Now was one of those times, unfortunately, since I’d gone to her room and saw she was currently naked and on top of Viper. My heart rate instantly spiked, my temperature rising purely out of anger at the sight.

I didn’t tell him it was okay for him to fuck her, and I doubted Maddox did. Never mind my fucking brother; all of my attention was on getting Viper away from her and getting to the bottom of this.

How long had it been going on? Who instigated it? Why the fuck would he think it was all right to be with her? Hadn’t he seen how I was around her? Didn’t he know she was already spoken for? Again, never mind Maddox and whatever the fuck he’d been doing to her. I tried not to think about it, because I knew if my brother had his way, Lola would be no more.

Dead. She’d be dead. She would be dead and I would be bereft, and I couldn’t let that happen.

I paced in the hall near her room. I didn’t dare leave the vicinity, nor did I dare to shut that door and let them continue on with whatever they were doing.

Fucking. They were fucking. I wasn’t clueless, and I’d heard the moans as I’d approached the room. I’d thought, foolishly, that I was wrong, that I wouldn’t come upon them together.

But I did. I did, and so here we were.

I supposed I could’ve stayed in the room and made sure they separated right away, watched like a hawk as Viper and Lola dressed, but I couldn’t. If I did, I’d think about what they were doing, and if I did that… if I did that, I was liable to break something. Like Viper’s nose. Or his hand. Or his fucking cock.

A cock that had been inside Lola. A cock that knew my territory too well. I could do nothing about Maddox being with her, but Viper? Oh, I could handle that. I could make sure that fucker never stuck his prick in her again. If I had to banish him from this house, I would. Father wouldn’t understand, but that’s fine. I’d find another person to trade shifts with Mike.

My feet stopped in the hall as I wondered if Mike had also been sleeping with Lola. Had I been duped by both brothers? I did not like the thought, but I could not change the fact that it might be true.

Fuck. Today had begun so shitty, and I doubted it would get better. Normally, when days started out in the crapper, they remained there for quite a while.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting in that hall for Viper to show himself, I spotted him coming out of her room, and I practically tackled him to the ground. I didn’t; I restrained myself, barely. I did, however, growl out, “Come with me.”

Mike wasn’t here yet to watch Lola, but by God, if Lola knew what was good for her, she would be a good girl until I decided what the hell to do. If I had to get rid of both Viper and Mike.

Not kill them, even though a part of me did want to. No, my father would never let me kill either of them. They were too close to our family. They were like brothers to us, cousins basically. We might wonder about traitors, we might’ve housed Tony before knowing his true colors, but Viper and Mike were ours, and they would be ours until the day they died.

Not today, I had to remind myself. Fucking Lola was not a capital offense, even though it sure felt like it.

I didn’t know where I was leading Viper, only that I was taking him away from Lola, to a place in the house he and I could have a little talk about what just happened. And by talk… let’s just say I wasn’t too sure how much talking there would actually be.

I wanted to beat his ass. I wanted to let him know that he didn’t get to decide anything about Lola. Fuck, why couldn’t he fall into the bed of some other girl? Why Lola? Why here? Why now? Just… why?

I eventually stopped in the kitchen. It was early yet; my father was still upstairs and my brother was still in his bed, asleep. No one in this family woke up as early as me, it seemed. But that was alright, because I didn’t want either of them to know about this indiscretion of Viper’s and Lola’s just yet.

Hmm. Maybe they never would. Maybe I wouldn’t tell them. What good would it do to rat on Viper when I’d bet any money that Maddox would go batshit crazy on him? Maddox would take things too far. He would. He was my brother; I knew him well enough to know how he’d react to Viper sleeping with Lola without either of us telling him it was okay.

You didn’t need permission from us to bang a chick, but Lola, our angel? Our fucking Night Slayer? Oh, Viper needed permission for that, definitely.

Viper, to his credit, didn’t try to run. He didn’t try to fight me, didn’t say anything to bolster his defense. He simply stared at me with those hazel eyes, waiting, waiting for me to have the first word, waiting to see my reaction. Oh, he should damn well already know what I was feeling inside after opening that door and seeing her on top of him.

I said nothing for a long while, leaning my hands on the island countertop, gripping the edges hard. If I didn’t hold onto something, if I didn’t preoccupy my hands with something, anything, I was bound to reach over to Viper and beat the living shit out of him, and that would not be too becoming. Not of me. Not of the Luciano son who thought things through, the one who didn’t act on his emotions.

Me. I was the logical one. I was the calm one—most of the time—but even though I was not a Luciano by blood, I had the famous Luciano temper.

“So,” I bit out the word, sounding a bit growly, like an animal, and that was purely because right then and there I felt like one. An animal who needed to assert its dominance, a predator who had to reinforce fear and make sure its territory was clear. “Care to explain what the fuck you were doing with Lola, Viper?”

I knew what they’d been getting up to. Anyone with eyes or ears would know. I guess I just wanted to hear him say it, hear him admit it, and then… and then, we’d go from there.

“I’m sorry,” Viper began, sounding truly penitent and sorrowful for what he’d done, as he should. He had no right to her, no right to put his dick anywhere near her. “I should’ve fought her harder.”

Harder was not an adjective I wished he would’ve used, but I let it go, mostly because I was busy processing what else he’d let slip. Fought her, meaning Lola had been the one to instigate it.

Whoever started it didn’t matter, that’s what I told myself, but hearing Viper say that made me feel differently. I was… hurt, I think, hearing it. Then again, after what I’d told her last night, could I truly blame her for wanting some form of validation and acceptance? I’d been so angry with my brother that I took it out on her, and she didn’t deserve it.

Lola Harding deserved a lot of things, but not that.

I said nothing, mostly because I was too lost in my own thoughts, wondering if I’d somehow pushed Lola into Viper’s arms… and onto his cock. Not a good thought, let me tell you. Fuck, things were so goddamned complicated when it came to that girl. Why couldn’t things be simple and easy? Why must everything be so difficult when it came to Lola?

Why’d she have to kill Mario and put herself into this position? How different things could’ve been if I’d stumbled upon her while out on the town, if she and I would’ve clicked under different circumstances.

Still, even with what happened, I couldn’t fight the way I felt about her. I cared about that girl, about that serial killer, more than words could ever describe, and a hell of a lot more than I should.

“Look,” Viper went on, keeping a good ten feet between us, which was smart, “I know nothing I say will make it better, and I’m willing to do whatever I have to to prove that I am loyal to you and your family.” He looked down at his chest, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was remembering the time he’d spent with Lola.

He seemed genuine in his words, which was more than I’d thought he’d be. Viper wasn’t like Maddox or me in that respect. Viper wasn’t afraid to say what he was feeling. He was often quiet, much like Big Mike, but there was always an intensity behind everything he did, an automatic charisma that made everyone like him.

I was still furious, though. “You’re like a brother to me,” I started, frowning at him, “so give it to me straight. Have you been with her before, or was that the first time?”

There was a long sigh, an extremely long pause before Viper managed to say, “It wasn’t the first time.”

My jaw ground, my teeth clenching so hard together I thought they might crack and shatter. Hearing that… it wasn’t what I wanted to hear at all. Fuck. “When?” I was hardly able to speak the word, and it took every ounce of my self-control to remain where I stood, to continue clutching the edge of the counter and not lunge for Viper and wrap my hands around his neck.

I feared if I let myself do that, I wouldn’t be able to stop. Brother or not, it didn’t matter. When feelings of the heart were in the picture, you were blinded by everything. It certainly held true for me, especially in this moment.

Viper looked like he wanted to bolt, as if he knew he’d dug himself deeper in his grave. But, to his credit, he didn’t run. He lifted his stare off the floor and met my eyes as he said, “A while ago.”

A while ago. His words echoed in my head, and for a split-second, all I saw was red. Red, righteous fury. How easy it would be just then to take a page out of Maddox’s book and beat some sense into Viper, make him regret ever laying his hands on her and sticking his dick inside of her.

“And you decided to keep it to yourself, why?” I demanded, my voice rising in spite of my efforts to keep it down. The last thing I wanted to do was wake my brother. He would make this bloody. Although, I was at the point where I wouldn’t mind a little blood being spilled. Viper’s blood.

Call me psychotic. I don’t care. I was blinded by fury.

He didn’t answer, which was well enough, because there was no answer he could’ve come up with that would’ve made me feel better. I went on, “You had no right to be with her. You were supposed to watch her, not stick your fucking dick in her—”

“And that’s different than you and Maddox, how?” Viper cut in, taking an attitude with me for the first time during the argument. “You and Maddox act like you don’t care about her, and maybe you don’t. She did kill Mario. We should all fucking hate her, but do we? Do you? Does Maddox?” He paused before whispering, no longer shouting, “Do I? She puts on a show for you. She parades around, acting like she enjoys what she does—and maybe a part of her does—but we both know there’s more to Lola than that. She’s broken, Sylvester, and if you think the problem is me sleeping with her and not you and Maddox passing her around like a toy, then you’re not as smart as I gave you credit for.”

Now it was my turn to say nothing, because, to my utter surprise, his words rang true. So true, so defiant and real they nearly cut me to the bone. My brother and I… we didn’t treat her like a person. We could always blame our father, but in the end, we were the ones who were responsible for how we acted, what we said, what we did to her.

Last night I’d acted as if she was nothing but a tool, something my family was using. That was true to an extent, but not to me. Not anymore.

Were Maddox and I no better than her blood brother, than the motherfucker who’d abused her, hurt her, for years upon years? The mere thought that it could be true hurt me; I never wanted to be lumped together with that bastard.

“Even though there were times when I slipped up, times when I should’ve fought her harder, times when I failed to keep her at a distance,” Viper spoke, “there’ve been countless more times when I’ve held myself back. You wouldn’t know how hard it is to be around her and not be able to touch her whenever the hell you want, even though you’re dying to.”

I stared at him, still unable to say anything.

“I’m not a Luciano. I might be part of the family, but I’m not one of you. I never get to look at a girl and say, she’s mine. You, Maddox, your father… you can start a war over the girls you love, but me? I have to shut up and take what I’m given.”

The red fury inside of me had begun to die down, mostly due to the realization that everything Viper was saying was true. Totally true, horribly true. Even the most recent thing—me and Maddox, we weren’t the first Lucianos to fall for a girl we shouldn’t. We learned by example, after our father.

You’d think that, after everything that had happened with our mother, Maddox and I would have learned a lesson. Granted, we were young, too young to truly remember, but it should’ve stuck with us.

Love only brought ruin when you were a Luciano.

“Viper,” I began, finally able to push off the island, no longer needing to hold its edges to keep myself at bay.

“Don’t,” he said. “If you don’t trust me being with her, I understand, but don’t feed me some bullshit line. I’m the one that fucked up, and I’m prepared to deal with the consequences, whatever they may be. If, though, you want to hear me apologize, it’s not going to happen. She was distraught last night, after everything. She needed someone, and you and Maddox weren’t there.”

No, we weren’t. The strangely-talkative Viper was right about that. I’d been too busy letting myself drown in anger towards my brother and his stupidity to see what was right in front of me.

“She fought with Mina over Maddox.”

I had to glance at him in shock at hearing that. “What?”

Viper nodded. “Lola got into it with Mina. If I had to guess, she was probably trying to throw herself at Maddox, and Lola didn’t like it. You and your brother might not want to believe it, but that girl has feelings. She was marking her territory, just like you’re doing now.” He shut his eyes, a bitter smile gracing his lips, an expression he never wore. “She’s not as numb as she wants everyone to believe.”

Maybe it was foolish of me to ask, but I found my lips moving nonetheless, “Do you love her?” I shouldn’t have asked. A part of me knew it wasn’t any of my business what Viper felt, but at the same time, since I was pretty fucking sure I felt the same, it was my business.

If he loved her… what if Lola decided she liked Viper and not me? Then again, the same worry could be put to the Maddox situation. Sharing a girl with my brother was one thing, but sharing her with Viper, knowing they might have something stronger than us? That was a different story.

“Do you want the truth, or should I tell you what you want to hear?” Viper posed two options. How thoughtful of him.

“The truth.” I practically grimaced when I said the two words, a part of me already knowing what the truth was. The way Viper spoke about her, the look in his eyes as he talked about her, the slightest hints of jealousy that rose up in his voice when he brought up how Maddox and I treated her… oh, yeah. I knew the truth. I just needed to be slapped in the face with it.

“I’m falling for her, yeah,” Viper muttered, frowning at himself. His eyebrows furrowed, his eyes narrowing somewhat. “Fuck. Sounds so cheesy.”

At that, I couldn’t help but laugh. It was a bitter laugh, a short chuckle more than anything else, but I couldn’t help it. Oh, the crazy situations we found ourselves in thanks to Lola. She certainly did not help us lead boring lives, but I supposed that was a good thing. Boring was boring. What was life if you weren’t having some fun, constantly being kept on your toes by the girl who both drove you crazy and made you want her above all else?

“Stay here,” I told him. “Mike should be here soon to relieve you. I’m… I need to go talk to her.” I started to walk out of the kitchen, away from Viper, but his voice stopped me.

“Wait. That’s it?”

I glanced back at him over my shoulder. There was so much I could’ve said in that moment, so many things I wanted to say, but I settled with: “For now.”

Viper looked as if he was expecting more, like he was waiting to be punished for what he’d done—and maybe he should be. Maybe I should teach him a lesson for fucking Lola behind my back, but everything he’d said was true. Lola was broken. She needed a lot of things, and those things… I might not be the best person to give them to her.

Let’s be honest, here. The Lucianos were as unlucky as the rest of the world when it came to love.

Within a few minutes, I stood just outside her room. I hesitated for only a moment before walking in, finding that she lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, almost unblinking. From the door, it didn’t look like she was breathing. She looked quite dead—and then she stirred, sitting up and grinning at me as I moved towards her bed.

The same bed she’d been with Viper in. Not a thought I should let my mind have, but a thought that refused to go away.

“You didn’t hurt him, did you?” she asked, now dressed in tight leggings and a low-cut shirt that left almost nothing to the imagination, not even her bra color. Which was red, in case anyone was wondering. A deep red, the color of blood.

Her blue eyes were wide, giving off an air of innocence I knew she didn’t have. In that moment, she looked her age: twenty-two, still so young. A few years younger than Maddox and me, and yet she’d seen and done so much, things I was sure we couldn’t even imagine. We were a family of criminals, but she was a villainess of her own making, a killer by her own design, raised to be what she was but not born that way.

“No,” I slowly spoke, sitting beside her, keeping a foot between us lest I lose all trace of logical thought. “But I wanted to.” I added that last part as I studied her, as I looked at her hard, more intently than I had in quite a while. I guess… I guess I’d come to take her for granted, lately.

She wouldn’t be here forever. Once my father gave the word, she’d be gone. Forever. That wasn’t a good thought, and I hated that I’d have to do his bidding. I wanted to keep this girl here forever, not lose her. Never lose her.

Lola studied me almost as hard as I did her, pursing her lips together as she asked, “Why didn’t you?” The question of the hour, it was.

I thought on what Viper had said, everything he’d said—which was certainly a hell of a lot to process while I was enraged. Everything we’d done, everything we would do, how we were using her… I hated that Viper had hit the nail on the head so directly, and had done it so hard and unflinchingly.

“I need the truth from you,” I started, glancing at her. All it took was one glance and my breath was stolen out of my lungs. She was so beautiful, drop-dead gorgeous, and I wanted to shield her from the world, tuck her beneath my arms and never let go, even if sometimes I was an ass. “Do you care for me, for my brother? Are we… are we no better than the family you killed?”

Her expression hardened. “Where is this coming from?”

“Tell me the truth,” I spoke earnestly, resisting my urge to lean toward her, to take her hands in mine and pull her close. Touching her, feeling her soft skin on mine… it would lead to things that would cause this conversation to end abruptly. Physical things, like what she’d been doing with Viper earlier.

“No.”

The single word stung, and I nearly got up and stormed off, my fury having returned instantly—but then she kept talking, and I realized I’d misunderstood her initial response. She wasn’t talking about if she cared for us. She was answering my latter question first.

“No, I don’t think you’re like my family. You’re different. You’re crazy.” Lola let out a short giggle. “Believe it or not, I like it here, even though you guys are hot and cold. I like it here so much that I wish… I wish things were different. And as for whether or not I care about you and Maddox, I don’t know if I can really feel anything, but I do feel something. I like being near you. I don’t want other girls sniffing around you. You, or Maddox.”

I could not let her words totally disengage me. “And Viper?”

Lola stared at me then, perhaps wondering what it was I wanted to hear her say. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know I wanted her to say she didn’t have any feelings for Viper, that fucking him had been a one-time thing done in anger over me and how I’d acted last night, over what I’d said to her.

But, on the flip side of that, it had to take a special kind of idiot to not see the light in her eyes when I brought him up, to not overhear the genuine concern in her voice when she’d asked me if I’d hurt him.

It took Lola far too long to say, “Viper, too.” She gave me a smile, but that smile was almost fake, like, as Viper had said, she was putting on a show for my benefit. I wished she wouldn’t. I wished she knew she could be herself.

Well, not her real self, because her real self was a serial killer who’d killed my brother. Maybe tone it down just a little bit from her real self.

“What can I say? I like the dangerous ones,” she purred out, her voice like velvet. A voice like that could seduce damn near anybody. Any man she turned her full power on didn’t have much time left. “The heart wants what it wants, Sylvester, and my heart is great at knowing the things it can never have.”

She had feelings for Viper. The truth hit me hard, but maybe I could train myself to focus on the other things she’d said: she cared for Maddox and me. She didn’t want other girls sniffing around us. She felt territorial over us, to the point where she’d made her presence known to Mina, one of Maddox’s favorite distractions.

I could only imagine how that encounter went down, but if I knew Lola and her skills, I’d bet it was something else. Hell, I bet my brother got off on it. Kind of wished I would’ve been there too, to see her mark her territory.

“When you say the things you can never have,” I started, meeting those big baby blues, feeling the need to reach for her and pull her onto my lap, “what do you mean?”

The smile she gave me right then was depreciating, to say the least. Depreciating and depressing, frankly. It was no longer a facade, a mask of a smile she wore to try to disarm me and disengage the situation; it was a smile that told me her true feelings. “Don’t play stupid,” she said, “it doesn’t suit you. We both know I can never have what I want because I killed your little brother. There’s no coming back from that. I can be of service to your family for as long as I’m alive, however long that is, but in the end, I’m still going to die.”

Her words… they weren’t wrong, and I hated that I could not make her feel better, nor could I change the truthfulness of what she was saying. My father wanted her dead, and she would die. That was that. It was just a waiting game.

I hated her in the beginning, as we all did, I think, for how could I ever care for someone who’d killed a brother of mine? How could I ever let myself develop feelings for a girl who was quicker to the knife than I was? I would like to say I still hated her, but I was far beyond hatred, now. What I felt, the feelings I got when I was near her, when I felt her skin brushing against mine… hatred was the last thing on my mind.

As was killing her, because I never wanted her gone.

“You, your brother, your daddy—one of you is going to be the one who kills me. I just know it. After what I’ve done, I don’t get a happy ending. I don’t deserve one.” Lola paused, letting out a sigh as that sad smile faded away, disappearing into an expressionless face. “But that’s alright. I’d rather die at your hands than the electric chair.”

I wasn’t sure whether to take that as a compliment or not, for the thought of killing her was the most unpleasant one I could’ve had. Did Lola not realize what she meant to me? She felt possessive of my brother and I—and Viper—but it was obvious the street went two ways. With how Viper spoke to me earlier, he felt the same. And Maddox? While he might not ever admit it out loud, he had to feel the same, too.

I know I did.

Because I could no longer fight the urge to touch her, I grabbed her hand, my fingers snaking between hers. “I’m going to try my best to keep you around for as long as I can,” I whispered. “The day you’re no longer here is a day I don’t want to come.” I squeezed her hand harder. “What I said last night… it wasn’t true. I didn’t mean it. I lashed out at you because I was pissed at Maddox. I shouldn’t have said any of it. I should’ve saved all of my vitriol for him.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” she said.

“No, I do,” I spoke firmly. “And as for Viper… while I do not like seeing you two together, I understand it. You do spend a lot of time together, and I’ve never seen him defend someone like he just did you. You bring out a passion in him I don’t think I’ve ever seen. I do, however, think it might be wise to keep the fact that you and Viper are involved away from Maddox—”

She interrupted me, “Maddox made me suck Viper’s dick.”

“What?” That… she was joking, right? She had to be joking. If she wasn’t, that was the first I’d heard of it, and I certainly planned on having some words with my dear brother. “You’re kidding.”

Lola shook her blonde head. “I’m not. He was in one of the lounges, watching porn. A threesome, I think. Two dudes and one girl, go figure. I think he got some ideas from it, because—”

I held up my free hand, stopping her from saying anything else. I’d heard all I needed to, trust me. Watching porn on one of the big TVs in the house… yeah, that sounded like Maddox. Making Lola go down on Viper while he watched, now that was something that was a bit harder to swallow.

Did Maddox know they were together? Or were they together because Maddox had basically forced them to be?

And then, of course, I wondered: did it matter which came first?

“I think I need to have words with my brother,” I remarked, dropping her hand as I got up. I adjusted the suit jacket on my chest, running a hand down it and tugging at the bottom hem to pull it flat and get out the wrinkles that had appeared while I’d sat there with her.

“Yes,” Lola spoke, using a mockingly serious tone, “go have words. Lots of words. Lots of intense, manly words.”

I shot her a look. After everything I’d discovered this morning, I think I was reacting pretty damn well. Still, I was not above punishing her if she acted out. She seemed like she’d like to be punished, anyway. Starting the walk to the door, I shot back, “Careful with that tongue, Lola, otherwise I might have to show you how to properly use it.”

The mischievous glint in her eyes as I left gave me a certain smug satisfaction.

I emerged in the hall, my destination the kitchen. I would talk to my brother the next time I saw him; I knew him well enough to know that, if I chose to wake him up to speak with him, he’d be liable to grab a knife out of his dresser and try stabbing me with it.

Really, it had happened before. He was not a morning person at all.

Which was why I was so shocked to see my brother up and awake in the kitchen when I got back, making coffee. He wore nothing but pants, the tattoos on his back and chest evident with every move he made.

Viper stood off to the side, his arms crossed before him, trying not to stare at him.

I looked between them, studied both Viper’s posture and the easygoing way my brother sailed through the kitchen this morning. It was so unlike him, I decided to not bring up what I’d seen, the talks I’d had with Viper and Lola. With Maddox acting so strangely, you never knew how he’d react, especially if I brought up the fact that he’d watched Lola go down on Viper without informing me.

I mean, I wasn’t my brother’s keeper, but he kind of needed one.

No, I’d talk to him later about it. Not now. Now I would simply stand there and watch him while wondering what the hell had woken him up so goddamned early. Did hell freeze over while I wasn’t looking?

Chapter Ten – Maddox

I wanted to make a big fuss, but I knew better, so I kept my head down for a while, doing my best to steer clear of that girl and act quiet around my brother. The fucking girl I couldn’t seem to get out of my head.

Keeping away from Sylvester wasn’t too hard; I knew he was pissed at me for taking Lola out of this house and bringing her to the club, and I also knew that when he got pissed, he was like a whole different person. His logic could sometimes fly out of the window and never be seen again.

But Lola? Fuck, man, how was I supposed to hold back when I kept replaying that night in my head over and over? Seeing her all dressed up, watching her beautiful face light up with a smile that, for once, wasn’t crazy-looking. She’d had fun with me, before the boys had shown up and ruined our fun.

And then Mina. Mina, Mina. That one didn’t take no for an answer, which I could respect, but fuck it, it was worth it. Letting her grind on me, letting those lips find mine as they used to all the time—if only to let Lola see it, see her all over me. Because what happened next had been something out of a dream.

Lola and Mina had gotten into it, right on the dance floor, right in front of me, and it was something that kept me up at all hours of the night. Having two girls fight over me? It was better than I ever imagined it being, and if I was honest, I’d imagined it before. What guy didn’t? Two girls, wrestling—usually winding up naked—all for me.

Of course, Lola and Mina didn’t lose their clothes, which was unfortunate, but it was all so intense, I didn’t even notice at the time.

Lola had fucking headbutted Mina so hard she’d fallen to the floor in a daze. I mean, come on. You didn’t get more badass than that.

This was the girl that killed my baby brother. I often tried to remind myself of that, but it seemed like as more days passed, the harder it was to remember that fact. It had become so hard, in fact, for me to remember that, and I more often than not found myself forgetting.

How fucked up was that? Lola killing Mario wasn’t something I should ever forget, and yet my dick and my thoughts were not in tune with logic. But, you know what? Whatever. Sylvester was the one who stuck to boring logic. Me? I let my emotions run wild at any given opportunity, so why should I let myself get caught up in my head with these conflicting feelings?

Lola was hot. Lola was a killer, literally. Lola was my kind of crazy, and seeing her put Mina in her place was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.

I wanted to fuck her.

And so, it was with that thought in mind that I finally went to look for her in the house, days after the club incident. I’d stayed away from her so long every muscle in my body was itching to feel her skin against mine, my cock twitching in my pants with anticipation.

It took me a while to find her. She was at the piano, Mike hovering near her, her eyes closed as her fingers worked the keys. She did have talent, I’d give her that. She knew her way around a piano, and that voice… oh, that voice was something else. Even I had to admit that she sounded like an angel.

And even I was smart enough to know she didn’t want to.

Lola did not want to be an angel. She didn’t want to look like one or sound like one, and after everything she’d been through, I couldn’t blame her. I used to think my childhood was fucked up, being a Luciano, born into a family where you learned how to kill someone when you were eight years old. Lola’s hell was a different place, and knowing her parents had let it happen all those years… well, let’s just say I was glad they were dead.

But also kind of sad, because it meant I couldn’t bring their destruction forth.

Her brother, who was still out there in the world? Oh, I’d make sure to save my best knives for his flesh and tape his screams so Lola could listen to them whenever the fuck she wanted. Mark my words: her brother would get his. I’d make sure of it.

I moved near the piano, unable to take my eyes off the blonde, who was lost in her own world of music. She wasn’t singing; I knew she didn’t like to grace the world with her voice. It reminded her too much of her parents, the things they would force her to do when she was younger. The piano reminded her of them too, so I had no idea why she played it so much.

Maybe she was wishing she could go back and change things, end her brother like she had ended her parents. Or maybe she was wishing everything was different. I knew I did.

My legs stopped when I stood on the opposite side of the grand piano. Its black, shiny top mirrored the light above, and I dutifully ignored Mike. There was no way I’d ever be left alone with her again, I knew. Mike was here now, a lot more often than before. I guess my brother thought it was better he guarded Lola instead of searching for Tony? I don’t know, but it was annoying.

Okay, yes, going to the club had been foolish, but we were fine. No one turned up dead. I’d seen a catfight between Lola and Mina, so I’d call that a win.

I stood there, for I couldn’t say how long, listening to Lola play. She had an easy way about her. Even with her eyes closed, she knew exactly where the keys were. She played like a master at it, someone who spent hours each day doing it. This piano hadn’t seen this much use since our mother was alive, and even then, she really only played it when she was bored.

Like many things, you see, the piano had been a flitting fancy of hers. The only thing that hadn’t been a flitting fancy was her love for my father, but look where that got her. Dead. Surely I could take that to heart. For people like us, love was our ruin.

As I stared at Lola, struggling with how badly I wanted to feel her body writhing beneath mine, I couldn’t help but wonder if she would be mine.

Was I capable of love? I knew damned well I could make it, but being in love, being devoted to someone else… it never suited me. It never sounded appealing, and I sure as shit shouldn’t be debating this when it was the girl who’d killed my baby brother. Alas, I was. I was caught in this trap, somehow, and a part of me wanted to escape.

The other part of me wanted to punish Lola for making me feel this way, for giving me these feelings.

“You play like shit,” I muttered, causing Lola’s fingers to halt and her eyes to snap open, their deep blue hue on me. Hey, I wasn’t fucking Don Juan. Romance and compliments and declarations of love just weren’t my thing, and they never would be. But I had the feeling Lola wouldn’t so much mind all that.

Her full, luscious and oh so tempting lips curled into a smile as she stared at me. Though I wasn’t beside her, though there was still a full piano between us, I could feel the heat flooding my body with all the possibilities of everything we could do together. The fucking. The killing. She and I could rule this city’s streets while my father and Sylvester handled the more delicate tasks.

“Liar,” she said, saying nothing else as she continued to grin at me. That grin, those lips… oh, they gave me ideas. Ideas that were currently getting my dick hard.

Just a smile. Just one fucking smile was all it took from her. How the hell was that possible? Such a far stretch from where we started, when I’d hated her guts more than anything else in the world, when I dreamed of strangling her with her own intestines and jerking off to the sounds of her screams.

Now I dreamed of fucking her… and not killing her afterward. How messed up was that?

Pretty fucked up, especially for Mad Maddox. Now, it seemed, I was only mad about the girl.

I wanted to deny her, wanted to say something smart, but all I could come up with right then was “Maybe.” That was as much of an admission as Lola would ever get out of me. If she wanted a declaration, she would have to go to Sylvester, not me. My brother was better at accepting and declaring his feelings than I was.

I pushed away from the piano, inching around it until I came upon her and the bench. I stuck my hands in my pockets, the only thing I could do to keep them off her. Her posture was straight, her long blonde hair flowing down her back. She wore a satiny shirt paired with dark leggings. She looked… well, she looked good no matter what she wore, honestly.

When I said nothing, Lola spoke, “Is there something you want to say to me, Maddox, or are you just going to stand there and stare at me like a slack-jawed idiot?” Her words cut, their tone harsh and acrimonious, but they were said that way on purpose, I knew. She wanted to get a rise out of me.

And she would.

I took one hand out of my pockets, and within another moment, I had my fingers curled around the back of her neck, over her hair. I lifted her up, getting her to her feet, and dragging her backward, slamming her against the tall windowpane nearest us. They were floor-to-ceiling windows, letting in a bunch of natural light. Her front was against the glass, her head turned awkwardly to the side with my hand still around the back of her neck.

Lola still grinned, even though she must be uncomfortable. “There he is,” she whispered. “The Maddox I know.”

I stood behind her, my frame towering over hers as I moved closer, as close as I could stand while still keeping hold of her neck. I leaned my head down, burying my nose in her hair as I hissed, “I never told you how hot you are when you’re jealous.”

Lola practically purred out her reply, “Oh, yeah? Maybe you should, then.”

“I loved watching you put Mina in her place,” I said, grinding my midsection against her ass, feeling my cock twitch and harden. Mike didn’t exist in the room anymore; it was just Lola and me. “I do wonder, though, if I went to her again, what would you do?” I had a feeling, of course, but I wanted to hear her say it. I needed to hear it aloud.

Lola whispered back the truth we both knew: “I’d kill her and box up her head as a present for you.” She added a bit of detail that made me smirk. I could definitely appreciate the sentiment. How thoughtful.

My other hand found her side, fingers digging into her skin beneath her satiny shirt. “Why so jealous, Lola?” I wasn’t complaining, because a jealous Lola was a hot Lola. I guess I was just fucked up like that, but that shouldn’t surprise anyone.

She didn’t say anything for a few moments, sticking to her silence. She did, I noticed, rub her ass from side to side, further stoking the flame inside me she had started. Eventually, though, she broke her silence and murmured, “Because I don’t want that dick touching any other girl but me.”

“Possessive, aren’t you?”

I could see her grin in the reflection of the window. “Don’t act like you’re not just as possessive over me, hotshot.”

Her words riled me up, but even so, they were true. If I went out to a club to find her riding some random dude’s dick, we’d have a problem. More specifically, the random dick would have a problem, and by that I meant I’d probably cut it off and feed it to him.

So, yeah, okay, she was right there.

“Maybe,” she spoke quietly, “you should remind me just how possessive you are.” It was as close to begging as I’d get from Lola, as much of a fuck me right here and now she’d ever say. She truly was perfect for me, and that realization hit harder than a bullet.

“Maybe I should,” I agreed, releasing my hold on her only to reach for my belt. Lola didn’t try to push off the glass, nor did she try to turn around. Our house was far enough off the road that no one would see me fucking her against the glass, but even if it wasn’t, I didn’t care. Let the whole world watch. Let me take a page out of Roman and Carter’s book.

My cock was steel when I released it, its length thick and veiny and ready to push into her and feel her tight cunt wrapped around it. My hands went to her leggings next, yanking them down just below her ass. I gave her white cheeks a hard slap before spreading them apart and positioning myself just before her entrance.

Before pushing in, I curled a hand around her body, holding onto her neck from the front, my arm snaked upwards between her tits. I held onto her hard, quite roughly, but I knew she liked it. I could feel the way she squirmed against me—and it wasn’t to escape. It was to tell me to get inside of her and fuck her already.

So that’s what I did.

With a single thrust of my hips, I pushed my cock as deep into her as I could go, hearing her cry out a muffled sound. Music to my fucking ears. She breathed hard already, as did I, and when we were connected like this, it was as if the entire world faded away, and there was nothing but her. Lola and me.

God, it was so fucked up how badly I wanted her, how approving I was of her jealousy and her desires. This girl… how could I still hate her, even after what she did? She fit with us so well, so fucking well I’d feel her loss for years after she was gone.

For she would. My father would either force Sylvester or me to kill her, or he’d do it himself. I doubted countless arguments from me and my brother would ever change his mind. Lola had killed his youngest son, after all.

But now wasn’t the time to think about that. Now was the time to fuck this girl so hard and so fast she was left breathless. Breathless and full of my cum.

Every time I withdrew my hips, it was like her body didn’t want my cock to leave it. I could feel her inner core tightening each time she let out a breathy moan, all with my hand still wrapped around that slender, gorgeous throat. I was sure we looked a sight, but Mike could fuck off. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen me fuck Lola, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Her body felt too good on mine. Her body was like fire, hot and molten, igniting things inside me I didn’t even know existed before her. I might tease her, might mock her and say I would go to Mina or find another girl, but no other girl could ever be Lola. No other cunt would ever fit around my length like hers did. No one else could ever make the sounds she did or carry the crazy glint in their eyes like her.

Lola. There was only ever Lola.

I closed my eyes, focusing on the pleasure building inside of me, on the feeling of my cock dragging in and out of her tight core, her ass pressed against me when I pushed myself as deep as I could go. My heart beat fast in my chest, and I knew without a doubt that this was where I always wanted to be. Here, with Lola. Inside her. Next to her. Whatever.

Lola let out a deep-throated moan, her body starting to tense in my grip. My fingers curled around her neck tighter as I picked up my pace behind her. I knew she was about to come, and I wanted it. I wanted to feel her shake, to hear her unbridled cry of bliss, and I wanted it to be all for me.

And it was. When she came, when an orgasm nearly swept her off her feet, I held her up. I fucked her harder, drinking in the sound she made and the way her muscles spasmed. I devoured the sounds of our sex and the feeling of her cunt on my cock. I almost felt like losing it, too—but I forced myself to think of something else, let my mind wander a bit so I could revel in her body just a bit longer.

My own orgasm came eventually, and even though I’d pushed it off, it still came too soon. It would always be too soon when it came to Lola, because I never wanted to pull out of her, never wanted to not be at her side. Fuck. She had me by the balls somehow, and I was just crazy enough to like it.

My body had its release, searing hot pleasure shooting through me as my cum coated her inner walls, filling her up with my seed. Even when the wicked hot pleasure faded, I didn’t pull myself out of her right away. I kept my cock buried in her, my hand still around her throat, my chest heaving as I struggled for breath. Lola didn’t complain, not that I thought she would.

She wouldn’t, because she was Lola and I was Maddox, and we were two crazy psychos who’d somehow found each other in this mad, mad world. My father would try to tear us apart. The world would try to break us up, but I wouldn’t let that happen. Tooth and nail, I would fight for this girl, for the right to keep her by my side.

This girl… she was mine. Fuck my father. Fuck what she did to Mario. I would burn this whole city down to keep her.

And that was a promise.

Chapter Eleven – Lola

Even with everything happening, I was still set to perform on the opening night at the Gilded Rose. My hands were healed completely now, but I kind of liked the look of the gloves on me. They completed the outfit, you know? Made me feel all girly and elegant and shit.

Sylvester and Maddox were with me as I got ready—as was Mike. Viper was gone, at home, wherever his home was, not currently on duty. Things felt a little awkward between us all, if I was honest. After what happened that one morning, after Sylvester had popped his head in my room unannounced and saw me riding Viper’s cock, well, he looked at me differently now.

Or maybe it was because of our chat afterward. He knew now I cared about him and Maddox and Viper. Was I supposed to lie to him? Was I supposed to tell him I only had eyes for him? Hmm. Good gals weren’t interested in lies, and I was the best girl of all. The goodest.

Okay, so that wasn’t a word, but you know what I meant. Totally angelic, here. Motherfucking perfect in every way. I never lie. I never cheat. I never steal.

That was good for a laugh or two, wasn’t it?

“I can’t believe this,” Maddox muttered, frowning to himself. He sat on my bed, sprawled out, glaring at the ceiling as if it had personally offended him. “There’s no point in singing at the Gilded Rose right now. I mean, you were alone with the guy, weren’t you? What if they realize it was you who did something to him?”

Carl DeLuca, the head of the DeLuca brood, he was talking about. It was a logical worry, something that did cross my mind. Carter and I were putting ourselves in more danger now than we were before, with how tense and frayed everything was in the city. It seemed everyone was waiting for that old man to die.

“The point is moot now,” Sylvester muttered, leaning against the wall near me as I did the finishing touches on my hair. I was already dressed in a sleek black number, a strapless, tight dress that blossomed out around my calves. A mermaid fit, sort of. “Father wants her to go, so she goes. Maybe she’ll overhear something while she’s there.”

“Yeah, or maybe they’ll kidnap her and pluck her eyes out for poisoning their man. We won’t be there to protect her,” Maddox shot back.

“Carter will be there.”

I let the brothers argue, pinning my curled blonde hair to my head. The Gilded Rose was such a fancy place, I couldn’t not doll myself up like I was a flapper. Minus the clothes, of course, because flapper dresses just weren’t my style. The simple makeup and the perfectly-curled hair, however? I could totally rock that.

Mike hung near the doorway, blocking any easy exit, as if the quiet giant thought I’d run away or something. As the brothers argued, I caught his hazel stare and cocked a brow. “Well?” I asked, doing a twirl. “What do you think?” I didn’t have my heels on yet, but once I did, my outfit would be good to go.

All Mike did was avert his eyes and grumble an incoherent response.

As I chuckled, I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d heard of what happened the other day between Viper and me. If he knew his brother had gotten too close to me and now he was trying to make up for that by being the stoic bodyguard he and Viper always should’ve been.

That ship had sailed a long time ago, I was afraid.

I put my sparkly heels on, and then I was ready to go.

We found Carter waiting for me in the front vestibule. He did not look happy to see me or particularly thrilled to be going back to the Gilded Rose. Yeah, with the way he currently stared at me like he wanted to wrap his hands around my neck and strangle me, he definitely knew I was the one who poisoned ole Carl. He didn’t like me, and he certainly didn’t trust me.

Ah, well. It was a good thing his dick wasn’t one of mine, then.

I looked around, making a big show about how no one else was near him. “Roman’s not here?” I whined out, pouting. “Shit. I was hoping he’d threaten me again.”

“What?” Sylvester asked, eyebrows furrowing.

Right. I didn’t tell anyone else about the whole Roman thing, but that was because I didn’t need to. I planned on bringing us both back for as long as this thing went on. I just hoped, someday, I wouldn’t need to doll myself up and sing, that I could simply don that amazing metal mask and kill my way through the city, at the behest of the Lucianos.

God, I missed wearing that mask.

“It’s nothing,” I said, twirling towards Sylvester and Maddox. “Don’t worry about me, boys, I’ll be back before you know it.” I sauntered up to each brother, touched their chest in a slow, deliberate way, and then placed a kiss upon each of their cheeks, one after the other. “Don’t go playing around while I’m gone,” I warned.

I knew Sylvester wouldn’t. Maddox, on the other hand… well, I think he would try something just to see me beat another girl up again. The bastard. The sexy, tattooed bastard.

Carter grumbled out, “Can we get this show on the fucking road already?” He sounded one hundred percent done with tonight, and I couldn’t blame him. Tonight hadn’t even started, and I was done with it.

Singing in front of strangers… it still reminded me of my parents too much. My past. The things I never wanted to think about. If I had my way, I’d never grace this world with my angelic voice ever again.

We all knew I was no angel, anyway.

The Gilded Rose was full of patrons tonight. They were seated, drinks had, cigars busted out. The mood of the club was one of leisure and relaxation, a place where the highest people of the city could come and talk… under the protection of the DeLucas. The bouncers, the workers—everyone here was a DeLuca loyal, and I had to be extra careful of what I said and did.

I didn’t want to die in this stupid club, wearing this pretty dress, hardly looking like myself. No, I’d much rather die at the hands of one of my lovers.

Fucked up, wasn’t it? Yeah, yeah. Tell it to someone who didn’t already know that.

I stood with the band behind stage, waiting for Newton to make his introductions. Everything was quiet back here; we were all ready to go. I’d be singing the same setlist that I’d sung during their pre-opening night, the same songs I’d sung before poisoning Carl DeLuca, only this time, there was no small vial of poison nestled between my tits. My tits were poison-free, as they were.

Something felt off tonight, though. Maybe I’d let Maddox’s words get to me. Maybe I worried that I would take a step on stage, start singing, and die in a blaze of gunfire. That everyone in this club would know that I’d poisoned Carl DeLuca. I had been alone with him for a while, after all.

But I was just the talent. A singer. A pretty face to be put on display and pranced around, something people could ooh and ah at. Anyone who looked at me and didn’t know I was the Night Slayer would simply think I was a helpless girl. A beautiful face, but helpless all the same.

A nobody. To these people, I was a nobody.

That should give me some kind of peace, but it didn’t, because I didn’t want to be a nobody. I wanted everyone to know my name, to fear it. I wanted the men to know not to eye me up like a piece of meat and the girls to know they were safe around me, as long as they didn’t hit on my men. I wanted to be a household name, even if it was in infamy.

I’d never get that now, not after killing Dickless—but, I supposed, I’d gotten myself some psycho men who made me feel alive, so it was an even trade-off.

After what felt like an eternity, I heard Newton walk onto the stage, heard him adjust the microphone. It was already adjusted for him, which meant once I came out, I would have to readjust it for myself, but it was all part of the act. Newton knew how to put on an act, definitely.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for being here tonight. I know it seems like you’ve waited forever for the Gilded Rose to open, and I thank you for waiting. All of our hard work has finally paid off, and now we can sit back and enjoy the night as we should, as the rulers of it.”

The more Newton spoke, the more I felt a kernel of unease rising in my belly. This speech of his was not at all like what he’d said before. In fact, it sounded rather strange, like there was an ulterior meaning to every single word he spoke, something I could not understand.

“Let me introduce to you one of my favorite new talents, Dolly Queen. You will be able to see her twice a week starting next week, and let me just say, she’s worth the time. Her voice is… well, maybe I should just get off the stage and let you judge for yourself, hmm?” Newton chuckled, though it was a dark, mirthless sound.

I’d heard the man laugh before, but it didn’t sound quite as cold, and as the curtains opened, revealing a packed club, I couldn’t help but wonder when the other shoe would drop. For surely it would. Tonight… something wasn’t right.

I guess I’d have to wait and see if my intuition was right, but for now, it was time to put on a show.

A smile plastered on my face as I walked toward the microphone. I saw Carter standing near the bar, saw a whole crowd of faces I didn’t recognize. Most were middle-aged men and women, though there were one or two older folks. A younger crowd on average than the pre-opening night show, which I found almost too strange.

I thought this club was for the older people, because who wanted to come to a place like this every night just to drink and smoke?

Well, I knew the answer to that: people who had money. People who had nothing better to do with their nights. And I’d be here two times a week, apparently. That was news to me, although maybe Carter was keeping that to himself because he was hoping I’d blow this or something. Going out with me, pretending to be my talent manager… it wasn’t his favorite thing. He’d much rather be home fucking his girl. What was her name? I’d pried it out of him, once. Started with a Z, I think. Zoey, maybe?

Ah, well. Her name didn’t matter. Nothing mattered right now other than dazzling these people with my otherworldly voice. And please note the goddamned sarcasm there.

After lowering the microphone—for Newton was almost a foot taller than I was, even in heels—I glanced back to the band, who were ready to go. With a short nod of my head, they began playing the melody of the first song, and I closed my eyes for just a few moments, imagining I was someplace different, somewhere else. A place where I could just be me.

And then reality came crashing in, intrusive and ugly, and I belted out some of Frankie’s best work. Sinatra, Martin, King Cole… I had a few favorites from each, and though my voice was feminine compared to theirs, I liked to think I nailed each and every one.

Such simplicity. Such easy-going songs about life and love. I was jealous of anyone who felt like that in real life. So unbelievably jealous.

I gave a performance my parents would be proud of, if they were here, if I hadn’t killed them years ago. It was funny, you know, I’d thought their deaths would make me feel better—and they did, for a while. I’d thought running away from everything I’d ever known, making a name for myself, was what I wanted. I used to think I wanted to be feared.

And maybe I still did, to some extent. But now… now I realized, beyond that, I wanted something different after all. I wanted the one thing I thought I’d never find, and that was family. A real family. Family who put each other first, above all else. The DeLucas, the Lucianos… I was envious of what they both had.

Why couldn’t I be born to one of their families? I might’ve ended up just as bloodthirsty as I was now, but I’d like to think I’d be a tad more stable, mentally.

Ah, well. Dreams. They were just dreams. Didn’t matter in the end, because not much did.

Time ceased to matter as I ran through my setlist, song after song. My voice got a good workout, that’s for sure. Anytime I gazed at the audience, anytime I was able to squint and see past the spotlights shining down upon me, I saw faces that were enraptured, wide eyes and eager ears. I had each and every one of these people hooked on my line, somehow.

Maybe it was just me, but I could’ve sworn right then they looked at me like I was their god.

Once I was done, it should’ve felt like a weight off my chest, but it didn’t. I took a step back from the microphone, dipping my head low to give a bow to the audience before retreating backstage, and nearly every single one of them clapped.

They clapped. For me. Like they were happy to have seen me perform, as if I’d just made their night or something.

I held onto the smile as I backtracked behind stage, and once I no longer looked upon the audience, I felt the smile morph into a frown. What the ever-loving fuck was that about? Did I miss something? Was something going on here I didn’t know about? Even the air in this place felt different than it did before.

When I said something wasn’t right, I meant it. I meant it, one hundred fucking percent.

The band came back as jazz began to play on the speakers laced throughout the club. I stood there in the dim shadows, my skin wanting to crawl away. Why did I feel like something bad was about to happen? The last time I’d felt like this… the last time my stomach had been in such knots was when I was young, still trapped in my parents’ house, when I heard my bedroom door open in the middle of the night and my brother’s footsteps on my floor.

My hands tensed into fists inside the gloves, and I didn’t know how long I stood there, by myself, lost in my thoughts and the strange way my body felt tonight, but it must’ve been a while, for suddenly I was no longer alone.

Newton appeared, smiling down at me. The man wore a dark blue suit tonight, his blonde hair slicked back, his dark eyes leveling with mine. He did not check me out, did not let his stare linger anywhere it shouldn’t—which was good. Right now, I felt the innate need to kill someone, and I feared the first person who looked at me wrong would get a knife in the throat.

Where would I get the knife, you ask? There had to be some behind the bar. Fuck, I’d even take a fork. I’d never dug out someone’s eyes before. It might be fun.

“Someone’s here to see you,” Newton spoke, giving me a small smile. It was like he knew something I didn’t, and he was trying not to rub it in my face. A hidden weight sat behind his words, and I was reminded of his little speech before my set.

What the fuck was going on here tonight? I had the feeling I was about to find out.

“Who?” I asked. Silly me for thinking he would just tell me; no, instead, he took my arm and led me out of the backstage area. He practically dragged me away, being a bit rougher with me than he’d ever been, and I knew now wasn’t the time to put up a fight.

As Newton took me to the side of the Gilded Rose, to the door which led to the stairs and the upstairs office that overlooked the entire thing, I spotted Carter near the bar. The bouncers were near him, surrounding him, blocking him from getting to me. He didn’t look hurt; he just looked pissed, and I wondered if our cover was blown.

Newton dragged me up the stairs, away from Carter, and I wondered if Carl DeLuca had miraculously gotten better, if he was the one waiting for me upstairs. Maybe he’d kill me—though I did not know why Newton would tell his patrons that they could see me twice a week after tonight if I was just going to die.

What the hell was going on?

“What’s—” I was seconds from asking Newton that very question when we stopped before the door to the office. It was shut, so I couldn’t see who waited for me within.

“Go on,” Newton said. “He won’t bite, I promise.”

He? He won’t… shit. Could it be Carl DeLuca behind door number one?

I steeled myself as Newton released his hold on me, and I heaved a giant breath, prepping myself for the unknown before stepping into the office. No one sat at the desk; however, it was as the door swung closed behind me that I saw someone standing near the glass overlooking the club.

Not a particularly impressive frame, but one I knew very well. Short brown hair sat on his head, his arms held behind his back. Muscled, but not overly so. Nowhere near Maddox or even Sylvester. No tattoos anywhere on his white skin, and I knew if he turned around, I’d see bright green eyes.

Traitorous green eyes.

Tony, the man of the month. The one everyone was looking for and no one could seem to find.

My feet automatically froze when I realized it was him, and then I tried to piece everything together, but I couldn’t. It was clear I didn’t have the whole story, because why the hell would Tony be here if he was the one who gave me the poison for Carl DeLuca? Why would he be waiting in a DeLuca office for me?

Just… what?

“You probably have a lot of questions,” Tony spoke, slow to turn his body towards me. There was at least ten feet between us, and it felt like it wasn’t enough. After everything, I didn’t trust him, which was odd, considering I’d been the one to champion his innocence.

But if he was truly innocent, why hide from the Lucianos? Why would he be here?

“I do,” I admitted. “The main one being, what the fuck, Tony?” My question took on a snide, menacing tone, but it only made him laugh, as if I’d just made the world’s best joke. I wasn’t a jokester. That crown belonged to someone else, not me.

“Fair enough,” he said. He gestured for me to stand beside him near the glass, and I hesitated. A part of me wanted the answers, but another part of me wanted to tell this motherfucker he could fuck right off for using me.

What did I do? I went to him. I stood beside him. I saw how the bouncers below still boxed Carter in. Everyone else in the club sat at their tables, acting as if nothing was wrong, as if this was just tonight’s business.

And maybe it was. Maybe this was just another night at a DeLuca business. Who was I to say? I had no idea about any of this stuff; I still didn’t know how things worked. For the longest time, I’d been so blind to the dark underbelly of this city because I’d spent all of my time going out to clubs and getting taken home by my prey. There was so much more going on here.

It must’ve been obvious that I stared down at Carter, for Tony broke his silence to say, “He doesn’t know I’m here. All he knows is that someone wanted to talk to you, and he was not invited to the conversation.” Tony’s shoulders shook with a chuckle. “Although, it doesn’t look like he’s fighting hard to be at your side. It looks like he couldn’t care less about you and what happens behind closed doors.”

I knew what Tony was insinuating, and I fought the way his words made my anger flare up.

“Now, if your talent manager would’ve been Sylvester or Maddox, I have no doubt they would’ve pulled out their guns and flashed steel to get to your side,” he went on, dividing his time between staring at me and Carter down below. “It’s a good thing they’re not here.”

“I’ll say,” I muttered. “If they were here, you’d be nothing but a bloody pulp on the floor, bleeding out from a dozen gunshots.” I felt bold in my statement, for I knew it was true. If they saw Tony’s face at a DeLuca club, assumptions would be made, the same assumptions that danced in my head.

Tony didn’t think I was funny. The way he currently stared daggers at me nearly made me laugh. A stare like that might disarm some people, make others uncomfortable, but me? I was past the point of feeling those things. Right now, all I wanted was the truth, and I’d get it from Tony regardless of how long it took.

“I don’t know about that,” he muttered. “There’s about thirty other people here who would gladly put an end to the Luciano sons.” He took a step closer to me, his gaze dropping to take in my dress, the way it hugged my body. It wasn’t the first time he’d eaten up my appearance, but this time it felt different. This time it felt wrong. “I do have to thank you, Lola, for what you did. You killed Mario. You made all of this possible. Without you, the city would still think the Lucianos were at their best—but we all know they’re not.”

Me? How the hell could he give me credit for all of that?

He reached for me, running a hand down my arm, his bare fingers anything but pleasurable on my skin. Once he reached the gloves, that hand moved to my waist, holding onto me in a way that made my heart beat rapidly in my chest in all the wrong ways. “I’m not allowed to tell you everything, which kind of sucks, because I am dying to see the look on your face when you find out the truth.”

I gritted my jaw. “Then why are you here, Tony?” Every muscle in my body told me to sidestep him, to get away from him, but I knew there would be no running. There were just some things you knew deep down, and whatever would happen here was one of them.

Oh, there were objects in the office I could use as a weapon, but what good would that do me? It wouldn’t change the fact there were thirty people out there who would kill me with no hesitation whatsoever. Carter could take a few of them down, but we were far too outnumbered. Even assuming I could best Tony and grab the gun he held on his waist… it still wouldn’t be enough.

No, unfortunately for me, tonight wouldn’t be a repeat of my nights as the Night Slayer.

“I’m here to keep you occupied, to separate you from Carter,” he said, and as he spoke, I watched Carter reach for his phone in his pocket—though I could hardly see past the huge bouncers surrounding him. He answered the call. “Now, you’re probably wondering what all that’s about.” When Tony let out a laugh again, it was an ugly, sick sound that made goosebumps appear on my flesh. “Let’s just call tonight a three-pronged attack, shall we?”

Three… what the fuck was Tony going on about?

“If I had to guess, I’d say that’s Roman on the other line. Tonight, his girl was working. Just so happened tonight was also the night that three DeLuca agents stormed the Dollhouse and shot it up to hell.” Tony shook his head, a vicious smile on his face unlike any I’d ever seen. “Wonder if Zoey caught a bullet? Ah, well. Doesn’t matter, not to you, not to me.”

As Tony spoke, his hand snaked around my lower back, and we stood side by side, staring down at the club. Carter was on the phone for only a few moments, and then his phone was back in his pocket as he pushed past the bouncers—not to try to get to me, but to get out, to leave the Gilded Rose and, I assumed, go to the Dollhouse, where his girl might be injured.

And that left me here, alone, surrounded by people who would kill me with no qualms. What a night, eh?

“You said three-pronged,” I spoke, tearing my gaze away from the club below and moving it to Tony. There was no one else down there of interest, not to me. Now that Carter was gone and I was alone here, the only person who garnered my interest was the traitorous asshole beside me. The handsy one. “I’m assuming this is another. What’s the third?”

Did I even want to know what else the DeLucas had planned for tonight?

The corners of his mouth quirked into a sly grin. “The Milano apartment, of course. Viper and Big Mike are two of the best men the Lucianos have left. Take them out of the equation, and I’d say it’s only a matter of time until the DeLucas stamp out the rest of them. That’s where you come in—but that’s not my story to tell.”

He might’ve said more, but I was too lost in my own head. The Milano apartment. Viper and Mike. The DeLucas were there, possibly killing them, shooting them up in their sleep or torturing them to send a message to Daddy Luciano.

Why? Why tonight? And why the fuck did Tony say he owed it all to me?

Tony flicked his free wrist, glancing at a watch. Its golden rim sparkled in the dim light of the office, and it told him all he needed to know. “The car is coming at eleven. That leaves us with thirty minutes to kill.” He moved closer to me, pressing his body against mine, pinning me to the glass.

I didn’t move, barely even breathed. I averted my eyes, not wanting to see the face of the man I thought I knew. What a giant joke it must’ve all been to him. All this time, Tony was just along for the ride. The way he talked, how uncaring he was about Viper and Mike—he didn’t just turn. He’d been a double-agent this whole time and we were all too blind to see it.

And now? Now it was too late. Viper and Mike might be dead. Carter’s girl—and also Roman’s—might be hurt or dead, too. All because of me.

Me. Me, me, me. It was almost funny how strange this all was. How I barely felt like I was inside my own body. It was one shock after another, and the numbness that had followed me out of the Harding house was back in full force. After all, it was so much easier to be numb to it all.

There was no getting out of this. There was no turning back. If Viper and Mike were dead, Maddox and Sylvester would want me dead. If Carter and Roman’s girl was hurt, they’d want me dead, too. It was a lose-lose situation for me now, thanks to Tony and the wonderful DeLucas.

“I know exactly what we can do to kill the time,” Tony’s voice was in my ear, and though my eyes were open, though I stared up at the ceiling of the office, I felt everything fade away. The feeling. The hate. The shock and the confusion.

Could you be unconscious while still awake? Was something like that even possible? I didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. None of it mattered, in the end.

As his hands started tugging at my dress, I closed my eyes.

Chapter Twelve – Lola

Stifling and suffocating, hands that should not be there but were anyways. Hands that gave me so much pain, filled me with a dreaded coldness that refused to go away. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t fight. I could do nothing but stare up at the ceiling in my room and wait for it to be over.

Because it always was. Eventually.

Just live through it. Just get through it. Live to see another day. Maybe then my parents’ eyes would be open. Maybe then they would realize how their beautiful baby boy was slowly killing their little girl.

But they wouldn’t. Their eyes would never be open, and what was the point of living to see another day when all another day held was more of the same? More pain, more hate, more numbness. This was not the life I should’ve had. This was not right, but my voice… it was never strong enough. I could never cut through the silence, could never dare hope to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

My tunnel was nothing but an eternal blackness that roamed forever. No end, no beginning. Even in hell, this would be my torture—because surely that’s where I would go when I stopped drawing breath. Someone like me didn’t get to go to heaven.

Heaven was for angels, and me? My parents might’ve called me an angel. I might’ve had a voice for the ages and a talent on the piano that came naturally… but I was no angel. It had taken me years to see, and a few more years to accept it, but I was no goddamned angel.

I was a devil.

The next time I opened my eyes—or, rather, the next time I remembered opening my eyes—I found I was no longer in the club. I was in a car. A limo. Tony was nowhere to be found, which was good. I didn’t want him to be here, didn’t want to see that fucking face again. If I did… it was hard to think about what I’d do, because at the same time, I was trying to push it all away.

It was a bizarre thing, you know, feeling like you lost it. Going insane and being aware of it was not something most people did, I think. Maybe I was just lucky to feel my sanity slipping away.

These past few weeks… learning to live with the Lucianos and enjoying myself with them, it had all been a joke. A farce. A lie. No one could ever truly care for me. I should’ve known that by now. Feelings weren’t involved. Only bodies. Only carnal needs that, once released, were gone. Nothing more.

Silly, silly Lola Harding.

Silly me.

Stupid me.

I sat in the back of the limo, all by myself, no guards around. The limo had stopped beside a rather impressive house, one that was unfamiliar to me. The driver was a man who was also unrecognized to me, and he got out and moved around the limo, holding the door open for me. I guess I was to go inside?

Slowly I got out, and once I stood straight, I ran my hands down my dress. It was wrinkled, greasy handprints on it from past use. I wished I didn’t know how my dress had gotten like this, but I did.

Hands. It always came down to hands that weren’t mine. Hands and cocks. Hmm. Maybe I should start cutting them off, give the Night Slayer a new M.O. All hands and cocks must go!

The driver led me to the front door, also opening it for me. I barely glanced at him, too busy gazing around at the immaculate house. Finer than the Luciano house, definitely, not that I ever thought I’d find myself in a similarly-fancy place. This one almost put my childhood home to shame.

How would mommy and daddy dearest feel if they found out a crime family had a nicer house than them? I bet my parents would’ve died in fright and embarrassment, if they weren’t already dead.

The driver said nothing as he led me through the house. He brought me into what must be a sitting room, gesturing for me to sit on one of the gaudy couches decorating it, so I did. He disappeared again, leaving me alone.

Alone, but not alone—for how could you ever truly be alone when your mind had so many conflicting thoughts? How could you be alone when your memories kept rushing to the surface of your mind and threatening the life you thought you had built? Here’s a hint: you weren’t. You were never alone. Those fucking memories were always with you, no matter what you did.

I used to think I was strong. I used to think I’d moved on, but I was wrong. I was only lying to myself. A pity. I put on a hell of a good show, didn’t I?

Wait. Don’t answer that. I preferred to live my life in ignorance now, for as long as my life would be—which probably wouldn’t be too long, now that I’d gotten myself entangled in a war between two big wig crime families.

Who the fuck knew how long I sat there, memorizing the hideous wallpaper, when the driver reappeared with a tray. A tray of tea, oddly enough. He set it down on the end table near the couch I sat on, bowing his head to me and saying, “Ms. DeLuca will be with you shortly.” He said nothing else, leaving the room momentarily.

Ms. DeLuca? Well, what would you know? I was about to meet the heir to the DeLuca throne. Didn’t know what that meant for Carl DeLuca, but I supposed in the end it didn’t much matter. You know what they said: girls ran the world. I’d meet his daughter, the Bloody Princess everyone was so scared of, and maybe I’d actually be impressed. You never knew.

I liked to think I wasn’t easily impressed, since I was a serial killer of my own.

Alone in the sitting room, I did not reach for the tea on the tray. Tea was so not my thing. I’d take pop, energy drinks, hell, even orange juice—but not fucking tea. No offense to anyone who liked to gulp down that stuff, but the taste just wasn’t for me.

And, yes, I was aware there was more than one type of tea. Still a no from me, thanks.

My eyes fell to my hands, which rested in my lap. My palms were up, fingers slightly uncurled. They were not calloused hands, nor were they the hands of someone who’d done an ounce of hard work in their life, though I would argue with you that killing could sometimes be hard work. But that was of my own design, I guess. They were the hands born to a rich family.

Hands. Fucking hands.

But at least mine weren’t hands that hurt someone who didn’t deserve it. At least the hands attached to me were instruments of vengeance and not tools of abuse. These hands had been bloody more times than I could count, and yet staring down at them didn’t fill me with unease, because they were mine.

You know who I’d love to strangle with my hands? A few people came to mind, but right now one was in the forefront—at least temporarily. Tony. Tony, Tony, Tony. Tony had been a bad boy, and I hoped I’d see him somewhere alone, where I could teach him a lesson in manners.

After all, you didn’t take things that didn’t belong to you, and you sure as shit didn’t force women to take your dick.

Maybe Tony Torio would be the first in my hands and dick spree. Maybe I’d saw them off with a teeny, tiny scalpel, just to make the pain last, wrap the meat up in a box with some pretty tissue paper, and mail it to the police station. What a fun present that would be.

It was as I was imagining what I’d do with Tony when someone else walked into the room. I didn’t bother getting up, because I didn’t care about showing respect to Ms. DeLuca. Wearing a black skirt that hugged her legs to her knees and a matching shirt along with heels that even I was jealous of was a woman who seemed quite pleased to meet me.

“Dolly Queen,” Ms. DeLuca spoke, “or should I say, Lola Harding?”

I was about to say something smart back, but then I saw her face—and then I realized I’d met her before, at the Gilded Rose. She’d pulled me aside and had words with me. She’d worn a feather boa, carried herself so elegantly and haughtily. A woman in her forties, with short blonde hair that was slightly curled and eyes the color of amber.

This was the DeLuca heir? This was the Bloody Princess? Frankly, I might’ve been shocked at seeing her again, but I wasn’t impressed by her in the least… which was why I refused to stand and shake her hand.

She sat on the same couch as me, glancing at the tray of tea on the end table. Her features twisted into annoyance, and she muttered, “Always with the formality. I have to say, I’m not a huge fan of tea myself. Never was, as much as my father tried to force it down me.”

I said nothing, only staring at her. I could safely assume she knew everything about me, or at least everything Tony knew. I bet the traitor had run his mouth something fierce when I’d come onto the scene. How idiotic we’d all been, especially me. If I would’ve stayed true to my psychotic self and not let myself get carried away with the sexy, crazy Lucianos, I would be dead by now, and not in this mess.

“Where are my manners?” she asked, giving me a smile that felt warm but I knew was fake. “I’m Bianca DeLuca, Carl DeLuca’s last remaining heir. This is not the first time we’ve met, but if I recall correctly, I didn’t introduce myself to you that night at the Gilded Rose. I’m sure you can understand why, now.”

I said nothing, which caused her to say, “Oh, please, Lola, don’t be mute on my account. This whole conversation will go a lot smoother if you talk to me, ask me all of the questions you have. I’m sure Tony told you a bit, but I did instruct him not to tell you the whole story. I wanted that honor, you see.”

Tony. I could think of a lot of things I wanted to do to Tony.

My lips took their time in grinning. “Why am I here, Bianca—or should I call you the Bloody Princess?”

She let out a chuckle. “You have spirit in you. I knew I liked you.” After adjusting her legs, folding one ankle over the other—a very rigid and refined posture—she went on, “Bianca is fine, dear. And you are here for many reasons, as I’m sure you know.”

Even now, I didn’t see the whole story. “You and Tony were working together.” I didn’t speak it as a question, because that much I already knew. The way she spoke of Tony, how Tony had been already waiting up in that office in the club, before Carter and I arrived… it was the only thing that made sense.

Which meant, by extension, Bianca wanted her father dead.

“That we are,” she admitted. “I have to say, when he came to me, I was a bit apprehensive. The Torios haven’t been a big name in this city for decades now. I didn’t even know they were still around, frankly. But then he told me all about a pretty blonde girl who’d killed the youngest Luciano son, and I was intrigued. I knew I had to meet you. Anyone who’d take out a Luciano on their own is a friend of mine.”

“I don’t have friends.” That much was true. Not growing up, and certainly not now.

Bianca’s smile faded only a little at that. “You’ll find it does you well to have friends in high places here, Lola.” She ran a hand through her hair, and I noticed she wore no rings; she wasn’t married. The last DeLuca heir was unwed, and I wondered if that meant if she died, the DeLuca bloodline would die out, too.

For all their talk about being more powerful than the Lucianos… was she all that was left?

“I knew Tony was trying to use me, of course,” she went on, “but that was all right, because, as you’ve probably guessed, I was using him as well. Had to test his loyalty, and he pulled it off. He convinced you to poison my father.”

“Why?” I asked, not that I cared much at this point. The DeLucas, the Lucianos… it wasn’t my fight. I didn’t care about the bad blood between them. “Why do you want your father dead, Bianca?”

A bitter grin graced her lips, and she was quiet for a few moments. I could tell by the way her eyes shifted to the side she was lost in the past. “There was a time,” she began, “when my father was the most feared man in the city. He was vicious and violent, but then… then his oldest daughter fell in love with the enemy, and it made him soft.”

Oh, God. Fuck me. This little chat of ours was going to last for hours, wasn’t it? I didn’t care about the backstory, I just wanted… well, at this point, I didn’t know what I wanted, but listening to Bianca go on and on was not it.

When I said nothing, when my expression didn’t change, Bianca paused to ask, “They never told you the whole story, did they? I guess I’m not surprised. The Lucianos always had a way of sweeping things under the rug and not wanting to address them. I mean, look at you. You killed Mario DeLuca and you’re still walking around, unharmed. If that doesn’t show how weak and soft-hearted they’ve gotten, I don’t know what would.”

My teeth ground. Even though I told myself I didn’t care, I felt the innate urge to slap this bitch for how disrespectful she was being of the Lucianos. That was just stupid, wasn’t it? The Lucianos weren’t my family, so why did I care?

“My sister fell in love with Richard Luciano, and together they had two sons, adopted a third off the street. Things were quiet between our families for the first time in years, until she was shot and killed.” Bianca smiled, waving a hand in the air. “My first move, you see. My sister was weak. My mother was weak, though she needed no help from me—she died a few months after my sister, from a broken heart they say.” She scoffed. “How ridiculous.”

Shit. So, technically, Maddox had both DeLuca and Luciano blood in him. Wouldn’t that make him the heir of the DeLuca family if something should happen to Bianca?

“I waited for years for my father to take back the city, but he moped around, saying he was tired, so I did. I made the rounds. I earned myself the name Bloody Princess. I turned countless of people against the Lucianos. This city is mine, Lola, but I needed my father out of the way before I could truly take control. That’s where you came in.”

“Technically I didn’t kill your father,” I stated. “The poison did.” Killing Carl DeLuca was suddenly not something I wanted credit for, not in Bianca’s eyes. I knew crazy bitches because I was one, and she was almost at my level, it sounded like.

“Oh, well, the poison got the word out about his pending death—and it started the pointing at the Lucianos, but as for what killed my father… well, that honor belongs to me.”

I blinked. So Carl was dead?

“I wanted him to know it was me,” Bianca spoke, quite proud of it all. Okay, maybe the bitch was on my level. “I wanted him to know I’d stolen the city out from under him before I cut his throat and watched him bleed out.” She laughed quietly. “The look on his face when he knew, the look in his eyes when he realized he was too weak to stop me—I will remember that moment for the rest of my life, and I owe it to you, so thank you.”

My jaw was too tense for me to tell her she was welcome. This whole thing… it was too much. And, fuck me in the ass with an alien dildo, there were no weapons in the room, nothing I could use to escape this place and this woman—who had earned her nickname, as much as I didn’t want to admit it. The Bloody Princess was fitting for someone who’d spent years conniving and planning and killing.

“You’re probably wondering why you’re here,” Bianca said. She leaned back a bit, relaxing her posture somewhat. “I bet you’re wondering if I’m going to kill you now.”

“Not gonna lie,” I found my voice, “I’ve been waiting for someone to kill me for years. The Lucianos, the police—no one seems capable of killing the Night Slayer.” I decided to name drop the fun little moniker the media had given me, just to see her reaction.

Her eyebrows moved a hair, but otherwise she was just as she was before: staring intently at me, as if she was proud of me. As if she was my own mother or something. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it one bit.

“You’ve been through a lot in your life, I can tell,” Bianca said. “We’re both similar in that way, and I think you and I could have quite the partnership once the Lucianos are gone.”

“What are you proposing?”

“I want you to do what you do best, Lola. I want you to kill the last two Luciano boys. I want Richard to realize how bad he fucked up and that it’s too late.”

Kill… she wanted me to kill Maddox and Sylvester? I couldn’t—I mean, I’d killed Dickless, but that wasn’t because I was purposefully going after the Lucianos. That had been an accident. Not an accident in the choosing of my victim, but him being a Luciano was pure happenstance. I couldn’t kill Maddox and Sylvester all for this woman, just so she could rid the city of the Lucianos.

I… I couldn’t kill them. I cared about them too much, or as much as my broken, twisted heart could allow.

“Now, I’ve heard you’ve been… entangling yourself with them, and I don’t blame you one bit for that. I know how hormones are. Still, it would behoove you to do as I ask.”

Blinking, I stared at her. “And if I say no? If I tell you I won’t do it?” That I would rather die instead of killing Sylvester and Maddox? It was bad enough that Viper and Mike might’ve met their ends because of me tonight—I didn’t want any more of their blood to be spilled because of me.

“You put on a show that says you aren’t afraid of anything,” Bianca spoke, knowing me too well. She definitely had an advantage there, thanks to Tony the Traitor. “But I know what you’re afraid of, Lola. I know that the threat of death slides right off you. No, what you fear is something much worse than death.”

“And what’s that?”

“Helplessness.”

Though she’d only spoken a single word, it was a word that could mean so much. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, she was right. That was what I feared. Death wasn’t frightening to me at all, because then the pain I carried with me would end… but to be helpless again? To be unable to fight back and stop bad things from happening to me, to others? That was a fate worse than death.

I didn’t like this bitch. I didn’t like that she thought she knew everything about me. I didn’t appreciate her trying to tell me what to do, nor did I like the fact she’d used Tony to get me to poison her father. I didn’t like being a goddamned pawn in a game I didn’t know how to play.

My games? My games were always bloody. If this lady, if the fucking Bloody Princess thought she’d be able to control me, she had another thing coming. Bianca DeLuca wasn’t ready for the games I played. She cut her father’s throat? Congrats. I stabbed mine dozens of times. There was no comparison.

We weren’t alike. She was a manipulative bitch who wanted power, who wanted to see everyone kneeling at her feet. Me? I wanted to rid the world of people who thought they could use others, I took out the sleazebags and the men who would abuse and rape. I was more like a protector than anything else; a twisted, crazy protector, but a protector all the same.

No, Bianca and I were nothing alike, and if she thought she could use me, she had another thing coming.

“If you make the rather poor choice of not doing as I ask, then I’ll have no choice but to remind you of how cruel the world can truly be.” Bianca spoke so evenly, so seriously; she was a monster and she wasn’t afraid to show it. Cruel and calculating. She was nothing like me and my craziness. “Trust me, dear, I hate to threaten such things, but sometimes the situation calls for violence.”

Oh, didn’t I know that. In fact, I knew it all too well.

I said nothing, continuing to stare at her because I could say nothing. My tongue refused to work. If I didn’t kill Sylvester or Maddox… she would take my choice away from me. She would make me as helpless as a newborn babe, and I could not imagine the horrors she would put me through.

It would be like my childhood, I imagined, never knowing a peaceful night again. Never being able to fully be in control. Bianca, the absolute bitch, was right. It was a fate worse than death and the only thing I feared in this life, for all the bravado I pretended to have.

As I stared into her warm brown eyes, their hue alive with power and emotion, I couldn’t help but think one particular thought. It was a thought that would surely get me into trouble, especially if Bianca heard it.

I couldn’t wait to kill her. I couldn’t wait to end this bitch’s life and hear her screams. She thought she could intimidate me into being her bitch? She had the balls to threaten me, Lola fucking Harding, the goddamned Night Slayer? I’d lived through awful things in my past, and if push came to shove, I’d weather it again.

It didn’t matter what she said or did; not anymore. Bianca, on this night, dragging me here and threatening me—me—had sealed her own death warrant. I would become her judge, her jury, and her executioner. I would kill her in such a way she would regret ever thinking she could use me.

Everyone wanted me to be a pawn. Everyone wanted to use me. Fuck that.

Fuck all of this.

“Don’t worry,” Bianca went on, either choosing to ignore the death stare I currently gave her or not seeing it, “I’m aware what I’m asking of you is a lot. It’s a lot to you, which is why I’m prepared to give you one week to make your decision. If, in seven days, the Luciano sons are still alive, I’ll know what your choice was.”

“How the hell do you expect me to be able to kill them both and walk away from it?” Even as I asked, I knew the answer: she wasn’t. Bianca DeLuca didn’t expect me to walk away from the encounter with the Lucianos. She assumed I would die. And if I didn’t, by some miracle, then she could just find a way to use me more.

Needless to say, after years upon years of being used up, I did not like it. I would not be used like a fucking pawn, mark my words.

Bianca gave me a smile that, unlike her eyes, did not deceive me. It was a vicious smile hidden behind red lipstick, a smile that would’ve sent a shiver up my spine if I never would’ve gazed into the devil’s eyes as I grew up. But I did, so I was not affected at all by that cruel grin. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out, Lola.”

I felt my lips curling into a smile, a smile that put hers to shame. Mine was not cruel or vicious; mine was simply wild and rash, crazy and unpredictable. She’d see that soon enough. “I always do,” I whispered, smiling hard. So hard my cheeks hurt, but the pain was nothing.

This idiot bitch. She’d get what was coming to her.

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Bianca said, and that was the last thing she said to me. It wouldn’t be the last I would hear from her, and it wouldn’t be the last time I’d see her face. No, Bianca and I had a lot of unfinished business, and even after the driver of the limo came to get me, corralling me from the room, I couldn’t help but feel like a new page was turning.

A new chapter, if you will.

Things were about to get crazy.

Chapter Thirteen – Lola

The driver took me back to the city, dropping me off on what I must assume was one of the main streets of the entire place. All bright lights and wide sidewalks, signs flashing almost blindingly in the night air.

A crisp, cool night, an omen of what just happened. This entire night had turned to shit.

I didn’t say goodbye as I got out, didn’t say a single word to the driver as I watched him pull away. He left me alone, in a city surrounded by strangers, on a street corner that was not my usual place. Nothing here was familiar. I had no idea where I was and no phone to call.

Hell, even if I did have a phone, I didn’t know the Luciano’s number, and at this point, I refused to ask a stranger because they’d probably be loyal to the DeLucas, or at the very least look at me like I was crazy because they had no idea who or what I was talking about.

No, until I found my way back home, I was alone. Alone in this big, dark, cold place.

Not alone completely, mind you. Dozens of people walked around me on the sidewalk as I watched the limo disappear into traffic. I still wore the dress I’d worn at the Gilded Rose, my gloves pulled up and the soles of my feet starting to ache after a long night of wearing the tall heels.

So many people were out, going about their lives, unaware that everything was unraveling for me. Everything I thought I had, everything I wanted, everything I felt… none of it mattered. This I’d known before, but tonight had given me the reminder I needed.

I might care for those guys, sure. They might’ve awoken something in me I thought was long dead, but in the end none of it would matter, because it would be either me or them. And it would always be me. I would be the odd one out, the one who never got what she wanted. I would be the loser, the one who never crossed the finish line, watching from a distance as the winners partied it up and went on without me.

They would choose family, of course. I wasn’t family. I was their brother’s killer, and for that I would get my comeuppance.

But, if I had anything to say about it, so would Bianca. I might not leave a lasting impression on the Lucianos, no more than my killing of Dickless had left, but I would do my best to take out their enemy. It was the least I could do for them. I wasn’t going to say I owed them shit, but… but I was thankful for the time I’d had with them. It was good to feel again, as fleeting as all those feelings were.

I took a step away from the road, instantly bumping into a guy who was walking on the sidewalk behind me. He snapped a harsh “Watch it,” and I gave him my middle finger. He didn’t stop, which was good, for I felt the need to itch a scratch only a good beating would quench. I wanted to kill.

I think I needed to, actually. It’d been so long, so unbelievably long since that night near the water, when I’d killed Danny boy. After everything that had happened tonight—my performance at the Gilded Rose, Tony, and meeting Bianca and hearing her out—I think I deserved a night to myself, a night where I could give in to the instincts inside and let the monster in me come out and play.

Let the devil out. Let him grow stronger. Let him flex his muscles before setting him loose on Bianca DeLuca and her brood.

Glancing around, I figured it wouldn’t take me long to find a club. Or a bar. I’d take any place where singles gathered in hopes of finding another and taking them home. Hell, I’d take a random guy off the street, let him think I was a hooker or something. Tonight I would not be picky.

Anyone, everyone. I kind of felt like painting the whole city red. After all, there was nothing like blood. So pretty, so pure when it was freshly spilled. Warm and dark but bright and gaudy all the same. Blood was what kept your body up and running, and it was amazing to see how much could be spilled from a single body.

I started walking, eyes darting all around as I went. I did pass a trashcan, and I stopped to pull off my gloves, tossing them in the can without a care. They weren’t mine. I didn’t give a shit about them.

It looked like a fancy hotel stood two blocks away, and judging by its exterior, I’d say it had to have a concierge in its lobby, a worker whose job it was to know the city and the surrounding area for anyone staying at the hotel. I looked a cut above everyone else on the street, so it wasn’t far-fetched that I’d be staying at the local Ritz.

It took me five minutes to reach the front glass doors of the hotel, five minutes because there was still so much traffic about that I had to wait with the other pedestrians for the crosswalk lights to change and allow us to cross. I know, how annoying. For a city that was basically run by two crime families, the normal folk seemed to obey all the laws.

How maddening. And not fun.

The inside of the hotel was nice, I had to hand it to them. Brightly lit, everything decked in gold and velvet. It looked like a hotel that belonged in Vegas, a place that catered to the movie stars.

There were no movie stars here. Just little ole me.

I was seconds from going to the front desk, but I saw a cute stand that held flyers and brochures, things to do in the city while you were here. My heeled feet steered me right to it, and thankfully it was off to the side enough in the lobby that the people going in and out didn’t walk near me.

Anyone who stepped within six inches of me was liable to get a heel in the leg.

If only I had a knife on me… alas, I did not, so I’d have to make do. But I always did. It’s how I became the Night Slayer, you know. It wasn’t like I brought my own weapons to every apartment and house I was taken home to. No, no, I used their own weapons, and then I left them at the scene. No point in taking them. The police didn’t have my fingerprints in their databases or my DNA, so I really didn’t care.

Plus, you know me. I was always kind of hoping they’d catch me, that my name would go down in history and cause the sleazebags to stop and think about what they were doing to the drunk girls they were taking advantage of.

My eyes came across a particularly hideous flyer that was speckled with gold and music notes. I snatched one up, reading it. The Gilded Rose had just opened tonight and it was already advertising. Made sense, but seeing this here made me wonder if I’d just walked into DeLuca territory.

I didn’t grow up here. I had no idea who owned what, but I could tell you one thing for sure: I did not want to deal with any more DeLuca bullshit tonight. Tonight, I just needed to let it all out. I needed to forget the fact that Viper and Mike might be dead, that Roman and Carter’s girl may have been hurt because of me. I needed to forget about Tony and what he did…

Seeing the Gilded Rose’s interior on the flyer was not helping my current mental state, so I shoved it back in the stand and turned away from it, needing to run, needing to get the hell out of here.

Betrayal. Hands all over, needing and grasping, possessive even though they had no right to be.

Fuck. Why didn’t I just run away? Why didn’t I just go to another city, away from the Lucianos and the DeLucas and the people that followed them? Why not start over somewhere else, now that I was finally alone? I could. I’d done it before. It was doable, especially with a pretty face like mine.

Running away from all of this, hiding like an animal terrified of the hunter chasing it—it wasn’t me. I didn’t hide, nor did I run. I would stand and fight with everything I had. Bianca thought she had me by the throat, she assumed she could use me and get me to kill Maddox and Sylvester.

She was wrong. I would never kill them. I’d risk another twenty years of helplessness if it meant sticking it to that bitch. Yeah, I was that vindictive.

But of course, I wouldn’t take any of this laying down. I would give it my all, and even when all hope was lost, I’d still fight. I had nothing left to lose. With nothing to gain, I was the perfect agent of destruction and chaos.

I needed to get back to the Lucianos. I needed to tell them what happened, ask about the other attacks that had happened tonight. My bloodthirsty appetite could wait, for now. I should save it and bottle it up, unleash it on Bianca when the time was right.

Yeah, that’s what I’d do.

Determination set, I calmed myself down and turned away from the station with the flyers and brochures. Holding my head high, I headed right to the hotel’s sliding glass doors. Emerging into the night’s cool air, I stopped to inhale a deep breath before turning and walking—walking right into a solid chest that had literally appeared out of nowhere to my right.

I stumbled back, and I would’ve stumbled more if the person I’d run into didn’t have quick reflexes. His hands shot out, gripping both my arms to steady me. His hands were strong but soft, the kind of hands that hadn’t seen a day’s hard work in his life… the kind of hands that instantly brought me back.

Since I was me and I didn’t apologize for shit, I turned my chin up at him, puckered my lips, and prepared to punch him in the nuts for grabbing me—I would’ve rather fallen to the concrete sidewalk below than have a stranger’s hands on me—but then I saw the face attached to the body, and then… then it was all over for me.

Right then, right there. There was no saving me now.

The eyes staring down at me were alive with fire, the exact same blue as mine—deep and pure, the color of Grecian waters on a beautiful sunny day. High cheekbones, a nose that had always been a size too big on his face but somehow fit him perfectly now. Blonde hair a shade or two darker than mine.

He looked older now. More mature, and yet I couldn’t stop myself from remembering him how he used to be in the dark, in my room. In my fucking bed.

I stood in the hands of the one person I never thought I’d see again, the one person who shouldn’t be here. My little brother, who’d proved to me so many years ago he was not the little one.

My breath caught in the back of my throat, my eyes widening in realization. How was he here? Why was he here? Why did my shitty luck have to continue tonight? I wanted… I wanted to get away, but life constantly proved to me that getting away was impossible.

At first, he didn’t realize who I was, and I could tell he was seconds from apologizing, as if he’d been the one to run into me and not vice versa. But then it dawned on him what face he stared at, and the smile that curled on his lips right then curdled my stomach for countless of reasons.

Aiden Harding grinned down at me, his hands refusing to let go, and he spoke words I never wanted to hear in my life, “Lola, sister, how I’ve missed you.”

Now, I know what you’re probably thinking. What? You’re going to end it there? I mean, come on, give a gal some time to process, you know? I just had the shock of my life, seeing that asshole again.

Come back later.

Dear reader,

Well, that was a doozy, huh? I know, I know, I ended it on a bit of a cliffy, but book 3 will be out very soon! As in, April 1st.

You can find book 3, Violent Heart, here.

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.

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Table of Contents

Chapter One – Lola

Chapter Two – Lola

Chapter Three – Maddox

Chapter Four – Lola

Chapter Five – Lola

Chapter Six – Lola

Chapter Seven – Viper

Chapter Eight – Lola

Chapter Nine – Sylvester

Chapter Ten – Maddox

Chapter Eleven – Lola

Chapter Twelve – Lola

Chapter Thirteen – Lola