She strokes my hair, soft and slow. And I know—I’ve disappointed my father, because my sobs come harder.
Auntie Bay, Dad, and Uncle Mariano rush in a moment later. I hear their voices—low, urgent, shocked. I canfeeltheir souls vibrating.
Dad’s the first to crouch next to us. I hold my breath, hiding my face in Mom’s arms.
I don’t want him to see me like this. I don’t want him to think I’m weak. I promised him I’d be like him one day.
“Hey there, my little monster,” Dad says, and his voice isgentle.He laughs softly, ruffling my hair. “You definitely got your curiosity from me.”
I peek up at him, surprised, sniffling. “You’re not… mad?” I whisper, staring at the floor.
“I did worse when I was younger,” he chuckles. “But you’ve gotta be careful in here. This room isn’t safe for you. Not yet. Understand?”
I nod slowly, then point to the glass case.
“She called me here,” I say, my voice small. “I think her soul is trapped.”
Everything goes quiet. Gasps echo around the room, sharp and stunned.
“She called me Luca,” I add. I don’t hide it from them. Mom and Dad exchange a look I don’t understand—but I know it’s important. They both turn back to me.
“He really does look a lot like you did at his age,” Mom says, her voice tight and strange.
Dad swallows hard. “You said you can talk to her?” he asks, as if I just grew gills in my human form.
I shake my head. “I can’t talk to her...I think. But I canhearher.”
He glances at Mom again, and she quickly nods.
Then he looks at me carefully, and his voice turns softer.
“That’s your grandmother.”
Malec
16 years later
“I'm Maleciandro, the next capo of New York,” I smirk, savoring the terror etched across Solas’s face. “But you can call me Malec,” I add, my voice dripping with venom. “If you can still speak when I’m done with you.”
Tonight, justice belongs to Abert.
I finally have the perfect chance to avenge his son’s death, and fate handed me the man responsible on a silver platter—Solas, the brother of the Bratva’s head in New York. That Russian filth is going to die slowly, painfully, in Abert’s hands. And me? I’m ready to make his soul my hunt for the month.
I’ve been hungrier than usual lately. A dangerous craving slithers beneath my skin, burning in my veins. My mother would have my balls if I turned New York into my personal buffet without reason. But revenge and dinner? This night can’t get any sweeter.
“Malec.”
A rasp cuts through the air behind me—Abert’s voice, sanded raw by smoke and rage. My grin hooks wider on instinct. He’sold, sure, but the weight of him, the menace he carries... no one matches that. Not even me.
Footsteps close in. I don’t turn. Not yet. My pulse quickens anyway, muscles coiled like I’m bracing for a strike. Only when he halts at my side do I tilt my head, slow, flashing teeth in a grin. Pride burns in my chest. I gave him the perfect hunt today, and that gleam in his eye—the sharp, satisfied kind—makes every cut and bruise worth it.
His glare snaps to me, familiar as a scar. The same look that’s beaten me bloody more times than I can count. My grin just deepens.
“He’s all yours. Enjoy,” I say, gesturing toward Solas like I’m unveiling the chef’s special to our most exclusive guest—with this ridiculous black suit I wore today to please Abert, I feel the part.
Abert lets out a low growl, his gaze locked on Solas like a shark circling a wounded fish.
“Oh, I will,” he mutters, cracking his knuckles as he steps forward. His hand moves to the back of his black leather belt, pulling out a small, worn pocket knife.
