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PROLOGUE
ROMEO
“What’s the goal?” my father’s rough voice boomed across the empty, freezing-cold room. There was only he and I standing in the brick shed on the edge of the large property that I called my home. I’d lived here for my entire short life of twelve years.
I cleared my throat, chanting in my head not to look down. If I did, then I’d see the half-dead animal, courtesy of my father. Hurting humans was one thing, but this…this was torture in the worst way possible.
But then…that was what he was trying to teach me. He was attempting to create a miniature version of himself with his oldest son—me.
“To cause maximum pain,” I managed to choke out. I hated how my voice betrayed me. I hated how my feet shuffled on the floor, my body preparing to run away.
I wouldn’t though. I’d stay put, watching as he taught me all the physical and mental techniques that he’d perfected over the years. He kept telling me that I’d need this when I was grown—I’d need to know how to cause maximum damage. It was my destiny to take over from my father, no matter how much I didn’t want to. And as the self-confessed master torturer for the Beretta Mafia, it meant I had big shoes to fill.
I licked at my dry lips, the cold whipping around us as it thrashed through the opening where the door used to be. My father had ripped it off in one of his rampages when I was eight because I’d cried as he slowly killed the deer he’d captured. It was three weeks before Christmas, and all I could see in my head was the reindeer that we’d been learning songs about in school.
Everything changed after that day. I was pulled out of that school and enrolled in one just for boys. That was four years ago, and since then, I’d done nothing but get ahead with schoolwork and stand in this brick box, watching my father as he became more and more cruel.
“It’s not just physical,” my father grunted as he undid his cuff links, then rolled up his sleeves. He always wore a shirt and slacks. Sometimes, I wondered how many white shirts he went through, because the blood never came out; at least, it didn’t with my clothes. “You have to tear their mind apart.”
I nodded, taking it all in. I knew better than to disobey the man who had given me life.
“The mind is a fragile thing, Romeo.” He wiped his knife on the gray fabric covering his thigh, leaving behind a smear. “Study it. Learn everything there is to know about it.Thatis how you cause maximum damage.”
“Yes, sir,” I managed to croak out. It didn’t matter how much I told myself to push my shoulders back and put on a brave face, I never managed to quite make it when I was in front of my father.
He stepped toward me, the painful cries of the animal on the table pushing through my thoughts and making me wince. Every fiber of my being wanted to put it out of its misery, but I knew it couldn’t happen, not yet.
“Show me, son.” My father handed the knife to me, the sharp pointy end near me. I reached for it, my shaky hands once again betraying how this made me feel. I hated it. I hated it nearly as much as I hated the man who forced me to learn all of this.
So many times I wished I hadn’t been born into this family. I didn’t want to be the son of the Mafia’s enforcer—the go-to torturer—because it meant the crown had to be passed down to me at some point.
But I guessed it was better than my cousins—Lorenzo and Dante—they’d have to run the entire operation when the time was right. At least I could fade into the shadows and only come out when I was needed.
It was that last thought that went through my mind as the sharp edge slashed against my thumb.
My father’s eyes darkened, the blood feeding a need he had deep inside, but he didn’t say a word. It was my mistake, one that I wouldn’t acknowledge. It stung, but it didn’t matter, not when I was around him.
“Show me your skills,” he demanded as he let go of the handle and crossed his arms over his chest. His sinful eyes watched me carefully. “Make it suffer or I’ll make you suffer.”
I’ll make you suffer.
It was those threatening words ringing in my head on repeat that had me stepping forward, intent on spending hours slicing at the animal.
All for him.
All for my father.
All for the devil himself.
All for the man I despised more than anything on this earth.
One day, I’d slice this knife into his skin. One day I would cause him maximum torment. One day…one day.
CHAPTER 1
BAILEY
Of all of the emotions humans could feel, calm serenity was not the one I thought would be flowing through me right at this moment.
