Chapter One
Stefano
I stopped in front of my childhood home, pulling the damp, icy chill of the morning into my lungs as I stared at that overbearing tower of bricks. The longer I stood there, the more I swore I could smell the alcoholic fumes that had permeated my mother’s breath every damned day of my childhood. Mom had turned to drinking to escape the monster she’d married. Unfortunately, she’d left me and my siblings to deal with reality—and him. And then she’d left us altogether.
I was the last kid standing—our last chance at revenge.
My father’s days as head of the Rossi Chicago Mafia family were numbered. He just hadn’t realized it yet. And he sure as hell had no idea who would be ushering in his demise.
Me.
With no more time to waste, I strode up the concrete pavers that led to that cold, three-story mansion. I nodded at the made men, the soldiers we’d stationed at the pillars as I passed, then pushed my way through the heavy double doors.
I rubbed my jaw, working to ease the ache from clenching my teeth as I crossed the foyer to the scarred wood beneath the second-floor balcony. Mom had died five years ago today. toed the area that looked like it was still stained with her blood.
My mind traveled back to that fateful day. As the horror of those last few moments of Mom’s life washed over me, I closed my eyes and let them play like a movie through my mind.
My youngest sister and I had been reeling after learning that Camila, the oldest of what used to be the four of us, had left for Russia that morning. An arranged marriage contract had been signed between our family and the Pavlov Bratva. Our father had kept the details to himself then sprung her departure on my mom, sisters, and me.
We’d had a matter of minutes to acclimate to the idea of her leaving—to join the enemy—and then she was gone.
Mom hadn’t compartmentalized the departure, the loss, of her firstborn as well as Marissa and I had. Later that afternoon, we heard glass shatter in the foyer, and Marissa and I cautiously crept toward the sound to investigate. An empty bottle of vodka, Mom’s drink of choice, lay in pieces on the wood floor. Dad was by the front door, while Mom was at the top of the landing. I could still hear her screams as she railed at him.
“You sent my daughter to her death!” Tears streamed down Mom’s face as she wavered back and forth.
“I handled a business problem. She happened to be the price owed, and she did her duty with more grace than you’re showing.” His disgust was clear in the scowl on his face.
Marissa clasped my hand, and I tugged her back so that we were hidden in the shadows, not that I had any doubt that Dad was aware we were there. But I couldn’t leave, and neither could she, because we both knew that hellish day was far from over.
Camila was one year older than me and had four on Marissa, who would enter college as a freshman after the summer. Dad hadn’t even let Camila graduate before marrying her off.
“I hate you.” Mom’s hands gripped the railing, her hair curtaining her grief-stricken face.
“You’re emotional and drunk. When you’re sober and in the right frame of mind to have this conversation, come find me.” My father dismissed her and headed down the hallway to his office.
A wounded scream made both Marissa and me press harder against the wall. I clenched my fists as dread crawled along my spine. Mom dragged a chair over, sobbing the entire time as we stood frozen, afraid to move or console her—not when she’d been drinking. It never ended well. Camila had been her favorite and the only one who could talk her out of her drunken insanity.
I tracked Mom’s movements as she wobbled while standing on the chair. Then she placed a bare foot on the railing, and I jerked forward, unable to remain a quiet observer any longer. “No!”
All my shout did was still her trembling form, and her unfocused gaze landed on Marissa and me. With a shake of her head, she whispered the clearest words I’d heard from her in months. “I can’t anymore. I hate him, and I will not witness what he’ll do to you two.” She shook her head. “I can’t.”
Mom transferred her weight to the foot perched on the banister then launched herself headfirst over it. There was a buzzing in my ears as time slowed, and I watched with horror as her head struck the ground where the pieces of glass were, embedding themselves into both the wood and her skull. Her body crumpled on impact. My feet felt encased in cement. Eventually, the buzzing registered as coming from Marissa, who was on her knees, screaming.
“There is no room in this life for sentimentality.” My father’s cigar-roughened voice pierced the haze of memory and yanked me back to the present with a resounding snap.
I said nothing. If I had, he would have used it against me. I was the last one remaining, and even though he would never admit it, he needed me, if only from the standpoint of projecting the illusion of strength against all others. His cold gaze dropped to the scarred wood I’d been staring at, and he smirked as I watched him from the corner of my eye.
“Thinking of the night your mom jumped?” He shook his head. “She was weak, just like the rest of them. As for you? I’m still waiting to see if you have the potential and the fortitude the rest lacked.” He pointed his cigar at me. “But regardless whether you amount to more, you’ll always be my second, never good enough to lead.”
I raised my gaze from where we’d both fixated, determination and hatred building to almost overflowing. Mom might have committed suicide, but the bastard she’d married had murdered her all the same. I kept my voice dispassionate, knowing that he would drop a verbal bomb. He always did. I braced for it. “Is that so?”
“It is. You’re my shield. Expendable. Each of you had a purpose.”
“Alfonso did?” I raised a brow in challenge. He had been seven years old when he was shot and killed in the park because he’d been in the way of the bullet meant for Elena. What could his purpose have been?
“If he’d lived, he would have. I had two sons for a situation like that.”
He was a sick bastard. None of us mattered. Mom’s job was to bear him children that would equal power when he bartered us in whatever business deal suited him best. I’d played his game long enough to know how he worked.
I held still. He wasn’t done dispelling his words of wisdom.
“Know this. If there is anything that takes your focus away from what I require of you—and don’t think I haven’t noticed your interest in Emiliana Vitale—I’ll eliminate those distractions.”
The familiar rage hissed inside of me. I would not react. My muscles locked down, keeping me from attacking him and ending his miserable existence. I made no move, showed no emotion. He studied me, searching. He would find no reaction. I wouldn’t allow it.
Another second or two passed before he grunted then pivoted on his heel and headed in the direction of his office. I didn’t move or break my mask until I was sure he was gone. It wasn’t the first time he’d threatened Emiliana. He’d done the same a little over four years prior, a few weeks before she’d disappeared. I hadn’t been able to prove it, but I feared he’d had something to do with the human trafficking ring that had taken her.
I’d gotten her back, but it should never have happened. Somehow, I would find a way to link my father, the Rossi boss, to the worst experience in her life and then end him, giving her, my sisters, my brother, and my mother the vengeance they all deserved.
I peered down the dark hallway after him. “I’m made of stronger stuff than you.” Under my breath, I voiced what would happen, what my legacy was. “Beware, old man. You’ll never see me coming.”
