I feel my father’s hand fall on my shoulder, and then he gives me a squeeze. “You’ve made me proud, my son.”
I nod as I step away from the body and closer to my father. My breaths begin to speed up, and then Alexei chuckles. “Now we drink. He needs it.”
The other men chuckle as my father steers me around the body, which the staff will take care of. We walk into the living room, and I take the tumbler of bourbon a server offers me.
I throw my head back, downing the amber liquid, and it draws another round of chuckles from the men.
My father pats my back, then says, “Next time, don’t take so long to kill.”
Next time.
This was my first kill, and it will be far from the last.
My gaze sweeps over the men celebrating my ascent to the top of the Mafia. Most of their smiles are forced, their eyes sizing me up.
It makes me lift my chin, and then I remember to tuck my gun away behind my back. I help myself to another drink, and then I watch. I memorize every dark glance, every lingering grimace.
I keep my head held high under the pressure. Half the men in this room are as old as my father. I know they won’t be happy taking orders from me.
I’ll just have to make them.
The thought has the corner of my mouth curving up in a daring smirk, and I pray to the almighty they see my father’s blood pulsing beneath my skin.
Now it’s kill or be killed. Rule or be ruled. Fear or be feared.
I, Lucian Cotroni, will never bend the knee. I will not cower. I will take my rightful place, and God help the man who tries to oppose me.
Chapter 4
ELENA
The Present – Elena; 21. Lucian; 24.
My heart is fluttering against my ribs as we’re driven through the iron gates of St. Monarch’s. The castle stands solid, wrapped in old money and extravagance. The gardens are flawless, and the grounds stretch so vast, I can’t see the outer walls.
So beautiful.
Dante’s palm connects with the back of my head, and I catch myself from slamming into the seat in front of me. “Listen to me!” he barks.
“I am,” I bite the words out, giving him a defiant scowl.
God, it’s only a matter of minutes, and then I’ll be rid of this monster.
“You talk to no one. This is the training ground of the elite. No one here is a friend,” he warns me for the hundredth time.
“I know,” I mumble. Dante informed me of the different syndicate groups that rule the world of crime. The Mafia, the Bratva, the Cartels. Arms dealers like my father. Drug dealers. Assassins. The worst of the worst.
He also told me about the five people who are currently guests at St. Monarch’s. Sergei Aulov, whose family is a part of the Bratva. Kim Yung, a smuggler, and there’s also a custodian in training, MJ Fang. Gabriella Terrero, also known as the Princess of Terror. I was told her mother is the head of the largest cartel. The last person is Lucian Cotroni, soon to be head of the Mafia.
They’re all people like Dante and my father. Cruel and soulless.
I really don’t intend to talk to any of them.
“If you’re not learning the trade, then you stay in your suite,” Dante grumbles.
“Mmh…” I have no intention of doing that. I won’t attend any training sessions on how to trade arms. I’m going to spend every waking moment outside and learning how to fight, so I can defend myself against Dante.
I’m going to relish being free for once in my life.
The armored SUV comes to a stop, and not waiting for Dante, I open the door and climb out. I take a deep breath of the fresh Switzerland air. It’s the first time I’ve traveled, and I can’t get enough of the foreign scenery. St. Monarch’s is situated near Geneva, and the view is idyllic, to say the least.
The chauffer removes my luggage from the vehicle, and unable to wait for a second longer to get away from Dante, I take the bags from the chauffeur and walk toward the entrance of the castle.
“Principessa!” Dante snarls behind me, and then his fingers clamp around my arm, and I’m yanked to a stop. His body pushes into my personal space, and then his rancid breath hits my face. Before I know what’s happening, he presses an unforgiving kiss to my lips. “Don’t miss me too much.”
Knowing I’m safe from being killed, I pull out of Dante’s hold, and as I walk away from him, I say, “I won’t. Not at all.”
I hold my breath as I near the wide doors, on guard that Dante will grab hold of me again to punish me for what I just said. As I climb the stairs and reach the doors, I glance over my shoulder. I’m met with a deadly glare from Dante, where he’s still standing by the SUV.