“My name has everything to do with it.”
“Okay?” I say slowly. “Then explain. Why do you go by Black if your name is Rinaldi? Did your father change your last name or something because he thought it sounded more menacing?”
He shakes his head.
“Black wasn’t my father’s true name either. We were both born Rinaldi. There is only one way you get to become a Black. You earn it. Black is a legend, a myth. The name alone sparks fear in anybody who understands the true origin of the name in this city. Black has been around for hundreds of years—passed on from leader to leader. It’s the name assumed when a new leader is born to Surrender. To the sea. To Miami. The world. It has to be earned.”
Black. Living in Miami, of course, I’d heard the name. I knew Black was the most dangerous man in the city; myth said the world. He offered no mercy. No prisoners. No survivors. But I never thought the myths were true. Always over exaggerated to get people to do his bidding. I thought he was Enzo’s father and that Enzo now became Black because his father either died or got too old to do the job properly. If Black doesn’t truly exist, it’s only a name assumed by a family of men when they take power; it makes more sense why all the rumors exist around the name.
But one sentence he spoke concerns me more than the rest. The position has to be earned. My eyes flutter up, my jaw clenches, and my hands fist.
“What did you do to earn the title?”
“I took out my opposition.”
I exhale. That doesn’t seem so bad. And it doesn’t seem to have anything to do with me or my predicament.
“Who was your opposition?”
His jaw tightens. “Only one of two people can take over the title—from two families with an arrangement. The most powerful offspring of each fight, in each new generation, for control.”
I nod, understanding more about him. How he felt trapped in this world from birth. He was. Destined to fight for a crown he may not have even wanted. But only the strong survive. So he had to be ruthless to gain his freedom. But he’s free now as their leader. Free to make any decision he wants.
“Ask,” he says.
“Who are the families?”
Maybe I know the other family, and that’s why this pains him. He killed someone he thinks I cared about.
I silently laugh.
He doesn’t realize there is no one I care about anymore—no friend worth saving. He could have killed Mason, and it wouldn’t have hurt me much after Mason failed in rescuing me. It may be heartless, but I lost my heart six years ago.
“The Rinaldis,” he says indicating his own family.
I nod, of course.
“And the Millers.”
I gasp.
“What? Miller as in…”
He nods. “Your family.”
“No,” I shake my head viciously as I laugh out loud this time. “You’re joking. My family isn’t strong. My family has nothing and is nothing. We have no money, no power, no control. We wouldn’t know the first thing about running an evil empire. This is ridiculous.”
“Your family was strong the generation before your father. They had money, power. Your grandfather was Black. He ruled the empire, but then your father lost to my father, and that started the Miller’s downward spiral.”
What?
“Usually, the loser helps the next generation out, getting ready to fight for the next battle by preparing them. Ensuring whoever becomes Black is the strongest of all the men.”
“But my father never told me. He never spoke of this to me. I had no idea that…” I can’t even say the words.
“That you are heir to a criminal empire.”
I nod.