“N-No,” he barks out. “You come near me, and I’ll break her neck.”
Her green eyes flash with fury. The betrayal of her own father weighs heavily on her. It’s been a useful tool in my agenda.
“There’s something you must learn,” I say with a rumble. “Melody isn’t weak anymore. Certainly not the fifteen-year-old girl you practically sold to me.”
“Stay back,” Westwood warns, ignoring my words.
“You left her to the wolves,” I continue. “But, you see, the thing with wolves is, we’re a pack. We look after our own.” I bark out a harsh laugh. “We teach them how to be motherfucking wolves. I taught your daughter more than you’ll ever know.”
His brow dips in confusion. “My daughter—”
The wolf in sheep’s clothing twists in his weak grip, driving the blade in her hand, she’d discreetly been holding onto, into the side of his neck. Based on the spray that shoots from his carotid artery, soaking my girl, I’d say this isn’t the first man she’s done this to today. Pride has my dick stiffening in my slacks.
“Not yours anymore, Daddy,” she bites out, pushing away from him. “You were never my father. You were just a man who held me in that tower, one who used me. I was never yours to have in the first place. I’m his. I’m a Vitale now.”
He clutches onto his neck, falling to his knees. His eyes are wide with shock as he stares at the girl he betrayed.
Strong.
Fierce.
A force of nature.
And fucking mine.
The piece of shit man slumps to the ground, his hand falling away as he quickly bleeds out. I had plans to properly make him pay, but I’ll allow this gift for Melody. After all she’s gone through and become, she deserves it.
“Come here, Tesoro,” I command, loving the way her green eyes dart my way, filled with a wild intensity.
She rushes to me, flinging herself into my arms. Our mouths connect for a fiery kiss that tastes metallic from the blood of our enemies. I grip her ass, lifting her, so she’ll wrap her sexy legs around me. Once she’s settled and hanging on, I pull away to admire her pretty face.
“I knew you could do it,” I say, grinning at her.
We hashed out this plan numerous times, and while she worried, I never doubted her abilities for a minute.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, hugging me tight.
I run my palms up under her dress and squeeze her ass. “What for?”
“For rescuing me. You saved me.”
“I’m the villain,” I remind her, amused by her words.
“The villain who freed me and made me his.”
“I guess that makes you a villain too.” I nip at her ear. “You ready to go home?”
“Can we stop for ice cream on the way?”
Roscoe snorts from where he’s already rummaging around in Westwood’s desk, clearly amused by this girl.
“Sure thing,” I promise. “Anything else, your majesty?”
She pulls back, her green eyes studying me. “One day will you take me to the carnival?”
Her question is an odd one, but I can tell it’s important to her.
“I will,” I agree without hesitation. “Only if you let me kidnap you again while we’re there.”
“After I’ve had cotton candy this time,” she sasses, her brow arched and daring me to argue.
“You got yourself a deal, Mrs. Vitale.”
She holds her hand out, ready to shake on it. I take her hand and bring it to my lips, kissing her knuckle.
“Until the carnival comes back to town, we have many, many nights to practice all the ways I will take you kicking and screaming.”
By then, she may have given birth to our child. Looks like Roscoe is going to have to add diaper changing to his list of skills because I have a dirty date planned with my wife and I can’t miss it.
“Will you chase me through the woods again?” she taunts, wickedness gleaming in her eyes.
“I’ll chase you to the ends of the earth.”
And that’s a motherfucking promise.
THE END
About Author K Webster
K Webster is a USA Today Bestselling author. Her titles have claimed many bestseller tags in numerous categories, are translated in multiple languages, and have been adapted into audiobooks. She lives in “Tornado Alley” with her husband, two children, and her baby dog named Blue. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, drinking copious amounts of coffee, and researching aliens.
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Books by K Webster
Psychological Romance Standalones:
My Torin
Whispers and the Roars
Cold Cole Heart
Blue Hill Blood
Wicked Lies Boys Tell
Romantic Suspense Standalones:
Dirty Ugly Toy
El Malo
Notice
Sweet Jayne
The Road Back to Us
Surviving Harley
Moth to a Flame
Erased
Extremely Forbidden Romance Standalones:
The Wild
Hale
Like Dragonflies
Taboo Treats:
Bad Bad Bad
Coach Long
Ex-Rated Attraction
Mr. Blakely
Easton
Crybaby
Lawn Boys
Malfeasance
Renner’s Rules
The Glue
Dane
Enzo
Red Hot Winter
Dr. Dan
KKinky Reads Collection:
Share Me
Choke Me
Daddy Me
Watch Me
Hurt Me
Play Me
Contemporary Romance Standalones:
Wicked Lies Boys Tell
The Day She Cried
Untimely You
Heath
Sundays are for Hangovers
A Merry Christmas with Judy
Zeke’s Eden
Schooled by a Senior
Give Me Yesterday
Sunshine and the Stalker
Bidding for Keeps
B-Sides and Rarities
Conheartists
Cocksure Ace
No Tears with Him
Stroke of Midnight
Paranormal Romance Standalones:
Apartment 2B
Running Free
Mad Sea
Cold Queen
Delinquent Demons
Hood River Hoodlums Series:
Hood River Rat (Book 1)
Little Hoodlum (Book 2)
Campfire Chaos (Book 3)
Hood River Zero (Book 4)
War & Peace Series:
This is War, Baby (Book 1)
This is Love, Baby (Book 2)
This Isn’t Over, Baby (Book 3)
This Isn’t You, Baby (Book 4)
This is Me, Baby (Book 5)
This Isn’t Fair, Baby (Book 6)
Lost Planet Series:
The Forgotten Commander (Book 1)
The Vanished Specialist (Book 2)
The Mad Lieutenant (Book 3)
The Uncertain Scientist (Book 4)
The Lonely Orphan (Book 5)
The Rogue Captain (Book 6)
The Determined Hero (Book 7)
2 Lovers Series:
Text 2 Lovers (Book 1)
Hate 2 Lovers (Book 2)
Thieves 2 Lovers (Book 3)
Pretty Little Dolls Series:
Pretty Stolen Dolls (Book 1)
Pretty Lost Dolls (Book 2)
Pretty New Doll (Book 3)
Pretty Broken Dolls (Book 4)
The V Games Series:
Vlad (Book 1)
Ven (Book 2)
Vas (Book 3)
Four Fathers Books:
Pearson
Four Sons Books:
Camden
Elite Seven Books:
Gluttony
Greed
Royal Bastards MC:
Koyn
Copper
Truths and Lies Duet:
Hidden Truths
Stolen Lies
Torn and Bound Duet:
Torn Apart
Bound Together
Books Only Sold on K’s Website and Eden Books:
The Wild
The Free
Hale
Bad Bad Bad
This is War, Baby
Like Dragonflies
The Breaking the Rules Series:
Broken (Book 1)
Wrong (Book 2)
Scarred (Book 3)
Mistake (Book 4)
Crushed (Book 5 – a novella)
The Vegas Aces Series:
Rock Country (Book 1)
Rock Heart (Book 2)
Rock Bottom (Book 3)
The Becoming Her Series:
Becoming Lady Thomas (Book 1)
Becoming Countess Dumont (Book 2)
Becoming Mrs. Benedict (Book 3)
Alpha & Omega Duet:
Alpha & Omega (Book 1)
Omega & Love (Book 2)
Elizabeth Gray Books:
Blue Hill Blood
Cognati
More Books by S.M. Soto
THE CHAOS SERIES
Deception and Chaos
Blood and Chaos
Love and Chaos
THE TWIN LIES DUET
Kiss Me with Lies
Bury Me with Lies
STANDALONES
Chasing the Moon: A Second Chance Romance
Hate Thy Neighbor: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance
Ache: A Second Chance Romance
A Cruel Love: A Dark Enemies-to-Lovers Romance
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PROLOGUE
Talia
The world I grew up in was defined by old-fashioned, ironclad laws, as non-negotiable as time itself.
The Bratva is our mortal enemy was at the top of this set of rules. It was ingrained in the minds of every member of the Italian mafia families from their birth, and they took this irrefutable truth to the grave with them. As a woman, I wasn’t allowed to be part of the mob itself, and yet the golden cage of man-made rules determined every aspect of my life.
For a long time, I’d made my peace with it.
Today, I set out to commit the ultimate betrayal.
If I were a man, I’d be faced with the only acceptable punishment for such a crime: torture and death. My cousin Luca, the Capo of the New York Famiglia, may go more lenient on me if he ever found out. Leniency wasn’t among his character traits though.
Yet, I didn’t regret my decision to slip away from the watchful eyes of my bodyguard and travel to enemy territory. In the Famiglia, nobody would have helped me get revenge on the man who’d destroyed my life when I was fifteen. He hadn’t been the only one, not even the worst, but all the others had been killed. Only he remained alive—my only chance to get a taste of revenge. It was an insatiable hunger I couldn’t suppress and had only grown in the five years since my family had been torn apart.
I smiled wryly. How ironic that I was on my way to ask the most notorious Bratva assassin with the telling name “Killer” to end the man I hated, when the Russians had been the reason for my family’s fall from grace in the first place.
Fear and nervous excitement fought a relentless battle in my body as the plane finally landed in Miami, the place where life could change for the better or the worse.
Would Killer be my salvation…or my doom?
Killer
Some called me a psychopath. Some said I was a heartless monster. I had been called many things in my life, and all of them were true.
Psychopath. Monster. Evil. Inhuman. Cruel. A brutal savage… I was all of that. I was people’s worst nightmare. They said if I called your name thrice… it meant I was coming for you. For your life and… your soul.
The Grim Reaper was one of my many names. Angel of Death, they’d call me. But I always preferred… KILLER. My given name and the direct meaning of who I was… and what I did.
I killed for sport; I killed for hobby… and I killed for my job.
My hands were tainted with blood and countless deaths. The cage was my home and the screams of my victim? Fucking music to my ears. A goddamn lullaby.
My phone rang, pulling me out of my thoughts. I paused mid-rep as I hung upside down using the pull-up bar. My muscles strained as I closed my eyes and ignored the ringtone, focusing on finishing my workout. Sweat trickled down the side of my temples as I gripped the bar tighter. I continued with my pull-ups, feeling my muscles burn and tighten with each movement.
The blood rushed to my head as I finished my second rep. The phone kept ringing and I bit back a curse. With a low growl, I released the bar and brought my legs down, landing on my feet without stumbling. I stalked toward the table and grabbed my phone, accepting the call without looking at who was calling me.
I already knew who it was.
“Took you long enough,” a nasally, annoying voice said.
“Text me the information,” I snapped. He was starting to piss me off with that attitude. I was neither his buddy nor his fucking slave.
He let out a sigh. “This job is important.”
Aren’t they all?
“They are paying good money,” he continued.
“Name. Address. Picture,” I growled into the phone. He was wasting my time and I didn’t have time for little talks with a pest like him.
He released a small chuckle, but there was a hint of nervousness in it. He was scared of me. Good. He should be.
I hung up before he could say anything else. Two seconds later, my phone pinged with a message.
My lips twitched.
My veins throbbed with fierce adrenaline.
The hunt begins…
CHAPTER ONE
Talia
From the moment I set foot in Miami yesterday, for the first time in my life outside of Italian mob territory, an almost intoxicating sense of freedom overwhelmed me. Maybe this was enemy’s land, but it felt like I’d escaped my golden cage and could take my very first flight.
I bought new clothes, way more revealing than anything I’d ever been allowed to wear at home, and set out to the bar Kazan in Wynwood, north of downtown Miami. The Kazan was situated in one of the many converted warehouses of the area. If anyone didn’t know it was Bratva owned, the majestic mural of a snarling wolf above the steel-door would have clued them in.
Nerves twisted my belly in an unrelenting grip as I entered the bar. The smell of old smoke and spilled beer hung heavily in the air. My heels clacked on the dark stone floor. Graffiti of snarling wolves, flames and Kalashnikovs adorned the walls— martial images that raised goosebumps along my skin. The bar would open in an hour, but as one of the new waitresses, I needed to be early. The attractive Russian bartender dipped his head in greeting and raised his thumb. “Better for tips.”
I flushed and gave him a small smile, realizing he was referring to my clothes. When I’d applied for the job yesterday, I’d been in my usual attire: a modest dress and flats, minimal makeup and a no-nonsense ponytail. Nothing that would fly in a bar like this. Today in my four-inch heels, mini-leather skirt and leopard-p
rint top I fit right in. My brown hair fell in curls down my back, almost reaching my butt, and my skin felt sticky with the amount of makeup I’d plastered on my face. It didn’t feel like me.
I went ahead to the narrow staircase at the back of the building, leading down to the underground arena. Yesterday, I hadn’t been allowed downstairs but today it would be my workplace. My breath caught when I stepped into the dimly lit space. A myriad of disgusting smells hit my nose: piss, blood, vomit and shit. Bile traveled up my throat, but I swallowed it down.
I needed to get a grip if I didn’t want to be fired on my first day. Then everything seemed to freeze as I spotted the fight cage in the center. It screamed death. How many people had found their brutal end within those metal bars? Goosebumps covered my skin. Now everything was deserted but tonight the room would be packed with a roaring, blood-thirsty crowd. I’d seen it on TV when my brother-in-law, Growl (my sister called him Ryan but his old name stuck with me) had watched the Darknet broadcasting of Killer’s last fight. Growl was the Enforcer of the Famiglia, responsible for the dirty work, and had a penchant for brutality. But I couldn’t ask him to help me get revenge since his vow bound him to his Capo and forbade him from a mission in another mafia’s territory. He had helped me without realizing it anyway. Immersed in the bloody fight, he’d let it slip who Killer was and where he usually spent his time. Of course, Growl would know.
In that moment, my plan had been set in motion, and now here I was, about to start working for the Bratva to get in contact with their brutal assassin. But as I regarded my surroundings, doubt wormed its way into my body.
“Natalia!” another waitress named Britt called.
“Only Talia,” I corrected her. I’d used a little white lie to explain my Italian name: that it was short for the Russian Natalia and that sadly I didn’t speak any Russian because my parents had been worried, I wouldn’t learn English properly if they taught me.