“Mack, grab the gun,” I order gruffly as we circle the tied up man who is now lying on my floor. Blood is dripping from his mouth, and I can see the far-off look in his eyes—the one that says he knows he is going to die.

Mack hands me the gun, and I hold it firmly in my hand. A sliver of doubt pools into my mind. I have been doing this since before I was even eighteen. Not once have I ever had a doubt, yet now at twenty-five, I suddenly want to feel sorry for doing this shit.

Turning my gaze to Mack again, I look at him. He is tall just like me and built like a house. Our families have been friends forever, and he is the only person I trust with my life.

He wipes the sweat from his brow as he gives me a bewildered look. I can’t blame him one bit, I am as confused as he is… Why am I still standing here with a gun in my hand? Why isn’t this guy being taken away to be buried already?

“You want me to do it, Z?” Mack questions. His voice is hushed, as to not let the little snitch hear. The man who lies before me is someone who took our stash of drugs, sold them, and then took the money and ran. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, and it most certainly won’t be the last.

“No.” I wave him off. I don’t need anyone to do anything for me. I have climbed my way to the top alone, and I can handle this alone too.

Squatting down, I grab the man by the chin, forcing him to look at me. “Toni, why did you have to go and pull a stupid stunt like this?” There is nothing sincere about my questioning. It is mocking, taunting even. See, I like it when these people try to fight back because it makes me feel that much more powerful.

He doesn’t say anything to me, in fact, it seems as if he is looking straight through me rather than at me, which in turn just pisses me off more.

“Any last wishes?” I ask smirking, the gun cocked and ready. I generally never take this long to put a bullet in someone’s head, but something is off about me tonight. I can feel it.

Bree.

My mind whispers her name faintly. I grip the gun tighter in my hand. The man says nothing to me, so I take that as his answer. Putting the gun to his head, I kiss his forehead and pull the trigger. The ringing that is generally associated with shooting a gun no longer affects me. I can’t tell you how many people I have killed with this gun alone. After a while, your body just gets used to it.

I stand up, wiping the splattered blood from my dress shirt. I turn around, taking notice of Mack’s eyes on me.

“What?” I question. This isn’t something he hasn’t seen before. He should’ve been pulling the body out of the house by now, not standing here looking at me like a baffled fucker.

He points up to the balcony where Bree is standing. Even from this distance, I can see the shock in her eyes. Did she honestly not take my warnings seriously? Is she dumb enough to think that I won’t kill her?

Handing him my gun, I dart up the steps to my room. Anger escalating with every step I take. Obviously I need to teach her a lesson. She needs to learn that my word always matters, and must always be obeyed.

The second my foot touches the top step, I hear the door to my room click close. Did she think that I wouldn’t know? I forcefully push through the door. It slams into the wall, but I don’t even care. I don’t care about scaring her or breaking shit. All I care about is her learning to listen and obey what I say.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay in here?” I question her, already knowing the answer. She is sitting on the far side of the bed, her face hiding behind a mess of brown hair.

My voice is heard only by myself, though, because she doesn’t look up. This only throws more gasoline onto the fire. Maybe I need to remind her who is in charge…

I walk over to my desk to grab my favorite gun before I cross the room and grip her arm, pushing her down onto the bed. Her eyes grow even wider with fear as she takes notice of the gun.

“I didn’t…” she stutters. It doesn’t matter what she did, I don’t want to hear it. I place the barrel of the gun against her lips, making her fully aware of what it is that I can do, will do, to her.

“I don’t care about your excuses. When I tell you to stay put, I mean it. I don’t say it for shits and giggles, Bree. This world isn’t the world you’re used to.” Every word that slips from my mouth is laced with some sort of self-induced anger. Rationally, I know I have no real reason to be mad at her, but it pisses me off that she didn’t listen.

Tears prick at the corners of her eyelids and slide down the sides of her face. I feel my heart beat. Once. It beat once in that second as I watched more tears slip from her eyes.

Pulling the gun from her lips and setting it on the nightstand, I stand to my full stature. She is still looking at me like I just killed a bucket full of kittens.

“Why did you kill him?” she asks quietly as if she really doesn’t mean to ask it at all. She looks down at the floor, her brown hair flowing around her head like she just brushed it. She is wearing a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and a white spaghetti strap tank top that I had one of the maids pick out for her. She looks so young and naïve. I almost want to wrap her up and send her away, as far away from me as I can get her. But I won’t, simply because I am too selfish.

“He deserved to die.” It is that simple. I untuck my dress shirt from my slacks, pulling at the buttons to take it off.

“People don’t just deserve to die.” Her voice no longer that of the meek girl she had just been, I smile to myself for the strength that she is showing. It will be a pleasure to break her.

“They do when they owe me money, even more so when they steal from me. He stole from me and took my money. Not that any of this concerns you.” I sound like an asshole. Even though I have no reason to justify my actions, I feel like I have to. I feel like I need her to understand why I did what I did.

“Did you ever think he needed the money? Maybe he was poor and had a family?” Her voice is pitched, and her face is etched in anger. I want to be proud that she has a backbone, but I also want to break it, snapping it into itty-bitty pieces. People with her attitude don’t make it very long where I come from.

“Generally, anyone who comes to me needs the money. It doesn’t matter what it’s for, Bree. If you make a deal with the devil for your soul and lose, he will take it. Well, in this case, I’m the devil. They made the deal, I was just following through with the soul taking part.”

Her nose tips up, and her eyes grow with a fire that makes my dick ache. Maybe taking her wasn’t the best idea…

“You’re a monster. A sick, horrific monster that gets off on using and abusing people.” The distaste in her voice only makes me want her more. A smile pulls at my lips as I pull my shirt off completely. Her eyes go straight to my bare chest and stay there for a moment. Even if she thinks I’m a monster, she is still attracted to me.

“Ahhh, continue telling me how much of a monster I am. Please.” I mockingly plead, tilting my head at her. She narrows her eyes, and her tongue dips out of her mouth and onto her bottom lip to moisten it. She looks like a snake ready to strike.

Her eyes leave mine as she adjusts herself in the bed, her body rolling over as she pulls the covers up and over her head. I must have misread her. I thought for sure she was going to strike back with something. I head into the bathroom to wash my hands and dispose of my blood covered clothing then I make my way back out to her.

“Are we done playing games already?” I taunt her, walking over to the bed and sliding into my spot. She scoots closer to her side as if getting away from me is her number one priority. That’s too bad because getting closer to her is my number one priority.

Reaching out, I put my hand under the blanket and latch onto her arm. A squeal escapes her mouth as I pull her toward me. Of course, she has to fight me.

“Let. Go. Of. Me,” she grits out every word as she tries to shake me off. Does she think she can win? Does she think I won’t hurt her? I will…

I won’t…

“Nope.” I pull harder until she is on my side of the bed, and I am leaning over her. Our chests are pushed against one another’s, and her breaths are coming in at a rate that is way higher than normal.

“Stop,” she breathes out. It suddenly dawns on me that I know nothing about her, nothing other than her father owes me quite a bit of money. However, I am enjoying our current interaction too much to think much of it.

“Why?” I ask, cocking my head. I am not touching her, at least not like I want to be touching her.

“I don’t even know you. We don’t know each other.”

I laugh a full, belly shaking laugh… “Then why the fuck would you even volunteer to come with me? You do realize that you, well, mostly your body, will be paying your father’s debt, don’t you? Every moan, groan, orgasm, and every spread of those legs will be payment.” Her eyes dilate as her breaths become pants. She couldn’t have been that far gone, she had to have known that she would be coming here for so much more than just helping me.

Suddenly, she finds her voice. “I didn’t have any other option. I would rather be taken than lose my only other parent.” Something about what she says tugs at my heart, and in turn pulls me out of the haze that is consuming me. I can tell myself over and over again that I don’t have a heart, but every word that comes from her mouth reminds me that I do.

“Roll over and go to sleep,” I grudgingly command, standing from the bed. She looks at me in confusion, wrinkles marring her beautiful face. I will give her that—she is beautiful, unlike anything I am used to. Her face is soft, her cheeks full, and she radiates youthfulness. Her nose is small, and her teeth are straight and white. She is simple, but at the same time not so simple you wouldn’t notice her.

“Did I finally hit a sore spot?” she taunts, sitting up from her lying position. It is strange seeing a woman in my bed.

“No. You merely reminded me that I can’t care for the wounded, sick little puppies like yourself.” It is a knee-jerking response to fire back a shitty remark.

“I am not a wounded, sick puppy. I’m a girl who lost her mom to cancer and is doing her father a favor because she doesn’t want him to die.” Her voice echoes off the ceiling and rings in my ears. My veins fill with acid as I stalk over to her. She is small and innocent, but she is prey and is lying in my bed.

“Did you just yell at me?” I ask coolly.

“I didn’t just yell at you. I told you exactly what I had wanted to since you tied me up in my home.” This time she is the one radiating coldness.

“Shut up,” I grit out. She is getting on my last nerve, and the only way I know how to deal with things that get on my nerves is to kill them. Except I can’t kill her. I made a deal, and I am a man of my word.

“No. You shut up. You bring me to this house, and I have no idea what’s going on or who you are. You take my entire world away from me, leaving me at your mercy. I’m confused, scared and trying to figure out how I should approach all of this and you…” I cut her off, my lips sending whatever words that were going to escape back into her.

A groan escapes her lips, and I smile against her mouth knowing full well she enjoys my lips on hers. I coax her lips open, slowly invading her mouth with my own. She tastes delectable, and I feel as if I won’t ever be able to get enough of her.

Her small hands skim across my chest and onto my back. Her nails rake my skin, and I am on the verge of losing the last shred that is holding me back from taking her on the very first night she is here.

Pulling back, I take in the red splotches spreading across her cheeks as her big, brown, doe eyes look back at me. She looks thoroughly satisfied.

“Not so much of a monster now, am I?” I joke, my finger swiping across her plump bottom lip.

“You’re still a monster…” she retorts, pulling away from me as if she is embarrassed to have kissed me, and enjoyed it.

“Remember that, sweetheart, when I bury my face between those creamy thighs of yours,” I smirk. I think I hear her gasp as I walk away, but it could’ve been my imagination. Now I have to take a shower so I can beat myself off. There is no way I am taking her on her first night here. I might be heartless, but I still care... At least a little bit.

When I awake the next morning, my body is overly warm. I feel a small hand placed against my chest and a leg curved into my thigh. Even if she says she hates me, this alone tells me that she craves something—comfort.

I turn to glare at the clock that sits on the nightstand. It is nearly six a.m., and although I don’t normally get up this early, I feel like I need to. I have some built up aggression, and I can’t get through the day if I don’t go workout.

I slip quietly and slowly from the bed so I don’t wake Bree. She is a spitfire. I haven’t given her enough credit. She isn’t okay with anything that I do, in fact, I am sure she is afraid of it—as she should be. The mafia is no place for a woman. My mother hadn’t…

The thought enters my mind, but I force it away. I refuse to think about my mother. Refuse. It is a shame because I loved her, but thinking about her opens up a gaping hole in my chest.

“Sir, there is someone here to see you,” Mack announces over the intercom located in my bathroom. I slip into the closet and pick out a pair of low-rise blue jeans and a T-shirt. I plan on staying home today, so I pick something that is laid back.

“I’ll be down in five,” I reply. I wipe on some deodorant and brush my teeth.

Then I slip out of the bedroom, but not before I allow myself a second to look at Bree lying in my bed. I feel nothing for her, but at the same time I do. We both lost our mothers, so I know what she is going through on that front, but everything else is foreign to me.

“Who the fuck is here this early?” I yell to Mack, descending the stairs two at a time. My foot hits the bottom step when I turn to the front door to see Luccio. He is the mafia leader a city over. We have no bad blood between us, but that doesn’t make it okay for him to come into my house without being invited.

“Luccio,” I say calmly. He is wearing a buttoned down shirt and dress slacks. He doesn’t look as if he is ready to spill blood, but then again, most criminals don’t fit the profile of one.

“Alzerro,” he says. His words are heavily laced with an Italian accent that reminds me of home.

“Mack tells me you’re here for something. What can I help you with?” I question, raising an eyebrow up at him.

He looks between Mack and me before dismissing his men. I am not sure what is meant by that, but I don’t ask questions. A bat of my eyelash and Mack is gone, tending to other needs in the house.

“I believe we have gotten into a case that you may want to know about.” What could he possibly be talking about? We walk the short distance into the sitting room, taking seats across from one another.

“Continue… I’m listening.” And I am. Intently.

“We believe one of your men and my men are working together and have been for some time without it being known on either side. We also believe that they have information in regards to your mother’s death.”

The way he says my mother’s death makes it seem real, and I hate seeing it like that. I clench my fists tightly together to stop myself from lashing out at him.

“What do you mean? You either have the proof that such things are taking place or you don’t.”

He runs a hand through his graying hair. He reminds me so much of my father in the way he talks, stands, and in his gestures and mannerisms… If he weren't from another mafia family, I would consider him to be my own blood.

“See that’s the problem, Alzerro… We have nothing other than a lead that led us to a dead body. This is the mafia and you know about us much as we do. Our people know how to kill - we train them, teach them to do so. They will kill every lead we get, and they’ll disappear right from under our noses.”

He’s right. Fuck, he’s right. I run a hand through my hair, hoping it will ease some of the tension out of me. There is too much going on right now between the girl upstairs, this, and the many debts that need to be settled…

“Luccio,” I sigh.

“Alzerro, I know you’re a busy man. I wouldn’t have come to you if I didn’t believe this information. I’m trying to look out for the best of both of our kingdoms, Fratello.” I know he means it out of the kindness of his heart. No one else has ever called me their brother.

“I understand that. I truthfully do, but you do understand what accusing our own kind does, don’t you?” I had to ask him. It will cause an uprising if anyone discovers what we will be doing. If it is discovered that we are wrong, we would be seen as weak, and weak in the mafia just gives people another reason to take you out.

A smile tips at his lips. “Yes, young Alzerro, I do. Have you forgotten your father and I worked together?”

“No, I haven’t,” I say, returning his smile. The mafia is my family. My men were my family. That’s just how it worked.

“Good. I will keep you updated, I just want you to watch your men and do so diligently. We will smell ‘em out, and when we do, I have a bullet with their names on it.” I can see the determination in his eyes.

I nod my head. “Yes. If I find anything out, I will give you a call.” He stands suddenly, bending down to place a kiss on my forehead. It is meant out of respect.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Luccio says, and then he is out the door with his men following behind him like bloodhounds.

“What was that about?” Mack comes into the sitting room after closing the door behind them. He looks a bit leery of me, and then it occurs to me—should I tell him? Should I let him in on the secret that Luccio is on the case of finding my mother’s killer, and it might be one of our own men?

“Luccio thinks there may be a pig among us. Came by to let me know.” I lie. Well, half lie. I can’t possibly tell him everything, even if I trust him. In this line of business, no one can ever be fully trusted. Lines can never be drawn, or they will be crossed daily. It is best to keep things to yourself.

“Well, if I hear anything among the men, I will let you know,” Mack assures me.

“Thank you,” I reply, dismissing him. The fact that my mother’s killer is out there, beneath one of our two families, is far too much for me to stomach. I find myself crawling back upstairs to my bathroom to take another shower.

It is funny how I can kill left and right and pull people from their families like nothing, but that something so simple can bring me to my knees. It doesn’t matter how much I say I don’t care, or how much I try to bathe in the blood of those I kill, it never takes the pain away, never makes me forget.