Chapter 103: Chapter Forty-Eight

Andrei

It was starting.

Don’t ask me how I knew.

It was in my blood.

I was born of violence.

A son of war.

I felt it in my bones as I slowly put on a pair of jeans I would later have to toss in the trash because of all the blood, and paired it with a black V-Neck.

She was sitting up in bed watching me.

I let her.

And I wordlessly went over to my dresser and grabbed two knives, shoving them in the back of my jeans, another in my boot.

My Glock was loaded.

I wasn’t sure how much I would need.

I wasn’t sure how this would even happen.

All I knew was that something was happening.

“Get dressed.” I didn’t recognize the sadness in my own voice as I stared her down.

She nodded her head quickly, jumped out of bed, and ran across the room, throwing herself into my arms. “Tell me it’s going to be okay.”

“It’s going to be fine,” I lied, kissing her hair. “Pack a small bag just in case, you never know, this may be me being dramatic.” It wasn’t, she didn’t need to know that.

She was De Lange.

I could lie all I wanted.

But we took records of everything.

Phoenix knew.

Dante knew.

Which meant El, his wife, knew.

Too many people knew.

People I couldn’t kill.

People I couldn’t control.

People that were most likely done lying to their own blood, especially after discovering what the De Langes were doing. And how they were supplying me.

Alice pulled away and ran across the hall.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

It was Tex.

Tex: Shoot on sight. De Lange bloodline. Men. Women. Children. Official cleanse of the family line.

My stomach sank.

It wasn’t like the Italians to do that. Kids? I was obviously growing a heart.

Then again, there was a reason for the warning text—it would be sent out to every family member, and if the De Lange adults were smart, they’d hide their kids until the cleansing was over.

Kill orphans.

Tex, as the Capo, would place them with other families; they would be forced to pledge allegiance to them for life.

But they would live, unless their parents decided to be selfish pricks and use them.

Phoenix texted next.

CHAT

Phoenix: You at the club?

Me: Where else would I be? Disneyland?

Phoenix: Ah, he has jokes.

Me: He’s happy or WAS.

Phoenix: We’re on our way… have you made your choice?

Me: Not that easy.

Phoenix: Life is hard. You’re either with them and us, or you’re against. She can’t help who she is. I’m not stupid. You’re not legally married, she has no protection of your name, none.

She’s on her own unless you can convince them. That’s all the advice I can give.

Me: I’m sending her away.

Phoenix: To die?

Me: What else do I fucking do!

Phoenix: You’re smart. You’ll figure it out.

Me: I told her I would kill her if it came to that.

Phoenix: Then aim low, or high, and make them listen, because they’re about fifteen minutes out, and they’re ready to crown you mafia king.

Me: If I told you I’d rather live in complete poverty with the woman I love?

Phoenix: I’d say you just grew a pair. Twelve minutes.

Me: I hate you sometimes.

Phoenix: Good.

I shoved my phone back in my pocket and cursed, slamming my hands against the dresser, and then rage like I’d never felt before took over.

I threw the dresser over then took my knife and dug it into the mattress, ripping the sheets, pulling them from the bed.

I wouldn’t sleep in that bed ever again.

Not without her.

I let out a roar of outrage as I fell to my knees and lowered my head. I’d tried to run away from my father, from his family, only to be the only one left standing to lead it.

And now? Now my past was knocking.

The only way out was death.

I gripped my knife in my hand.

I stared at the way the metal glistened.

It would be easy.

Why hadn’t I thought of that before?

My blood would stain the room in seconds.

It would be their fault.

They would have no leader.

But…

They would still kill her, wouldn’t they?

I didn’t realize I was shaking until a soft hand wrapped around mine, slowly lowering the knife to the ground.

“Let go,” Alice whispered.

“Can’t,” I said through clenched teeth. “I can’t…”

“You must.” She shook me.

I didn’t move as I lowered my head and a solid tear fell from my eye.

“Andrei?”

This was my ending.

Saying goodbye to the one person, the one reason for any happiness in my soul.

I blinked up at her. “We need to go.”

I felt like I left my soul in that room as we walked out. I sure as hell left my heart with her.

My body went through the motions as I grabbed the bag she’d packed and escorted her through the dimly lit hallway one last time.

Maybe if Hell froze over.

This would have ended differently.

But Hell was very much alive.

Because I was living in it.

And soon, I’d command it.

We made it through the club and outside in record time.

One of my black Escalades was out front.

Ax was in the driver’s seat.

I opened the door and tried shoving her in.

“Wait!” Alice turned in my arms, pressed her mouth to mine with such ferocity I experienced pain and pleasure simultaneously. I sucked in a deep breath. I would remember her.

I would remember everything.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “For giving me twenty-four hours of heaven, after twenty-two years of hell.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks.

I brushed them away. “Stay safe.”

“Where am I going?”

I hesitated and then, “You’ll see.”

I kissed her forehead and shoved her in the car, then slammed the door before I could do anything stupid.

I fired off a text to Ax.

Me: Don’t tell me where you take her. You know our options. If you tell me they’ll try to get it out of me. I’ll die before giving her up.

Ax: Good answer, Boss. And try not to worry too much.

I snorted. Right, try not to worry too much?

He pulled out of the parking lot around one minute before ten different vehicles pulled into it, the scores of tires kicking up loose gravel.

I waited patiently.

She was safe.

She was gone.

I’d never felt such hatred for another human being as I did for the ones slowly getting out of their cars to face me.

On the outside, I was calm.

On the inside, I was a fucking hurricane ready to wreck everything in my path.

The guys approached first.

Tex had two guns strapped to him, and a stupid grin on his face like this entire situation was hilarious. He was wearing a black beanie for shit’s sake.

Nixon wore combat boots that looked like they would easily crush someone’s windpipe if he so chose it.

Dante stood on the other side of Nixon, and Phoenix looked like he was exceptionally bored.

Great. I was the only one losing it.

Gravel crunched beneath Chase’s boots as he folded his arms across his chest. “Got any De Langes in there?”

“I’m sure I do. They like to sell women, remember?” I snorted. “Feel free to start your bloodbath while I stand out here and get a tan.”

He let out a little laugh. “Sure you don’t want to join?”

“I would, but it seems I have business.”

Chase tilted his head and then put a hand on my shoulder. “You look pissed.”

“Good, I feel pissed.”

Tex barked out a laugh. “Did we interrupt play time?”

Son of a bitch, my fingers itched to shoot him.

“Does it really matter?” I fired back.

Phoenix let out a sigh as a few men I didn’t recognize got out of their cars and made their way toward me.

The Sinacore Family.

I’d met one of their men this last year, and I’d made him look like a fool to his own father.

He’d wanted his trust fund, and I’d allowed him to access it early.

My response?

Whoops.

After all, Renee and Vic were married now. And Italians didn’t break vows of any kind. Marriage was sacred, so they were fucked.

But their memories were long.

And I knew they weren’t pleased to welcome me into a family that could trace its heritage back to when they sat on thrones and wore crowns.

Sergio bumped into me while I was watching the men, and then he slipped something into my pocket.

He pretended like he didn’t do anything.

I pretended right along with him.

What the hell was he doing?

“Morning.” I crossed my arms. “Are we doing this here or do we need alcohol?”

The man who approached was at least six inches shorter than me, and his gray pinstriped suit did nothing to make him appear taller. He had silver hair and was wearing dark Ray Bans.

“So, this is the great Andrei Petrov,” he said with a thick Italian accent.

“I would shake your hand but I wouldn’t want to taint your skin with my Russian blood.” I sneered.

“Half!” he barked. “Half Russian. We will need alcohol for this.” He motioned toward the club and then sidestepped me.

The hell just happened?

Chase had already disappeared into the club, and from the filtered sounds drifting from behind the doors, he was doing what he did best. Killing.

I wondered if his loyalty was deep enough to me, to not kill her if the time came.

And then I realized that rules were rules.

And his job was to carry out the orders of the Capo.

Everyone sat in the VIP section, on couches, bar stools. I reached behind the counter and grabbed a few bottles of wine, along with a few bottles of whiskey and vodka.

I knew what was coming.

I knew it.

“Your mother’s a whore!” my dad yelled. “An Italian whore! That’s why she’s dying!”

I winced as I reached for her hand.

She looked so frail.

Weak.

She gave me a small smile as he stomped out of the room.

“Come here, Andrei.”

I climbed up to her bed and touched her face.

It was cold.

I hated it.

It was death.

My hands shook as more of the memory surfaced.

I wore gloves because I didn’t want to feel warmth.

Because it reminded me that she was cold.

So fucking cold.

The memory surged forward.

I grabbed a blanket to cover her, but she was still shivering.

And then she said very softly so that only I could hear as men moved around the room.

They said words like torture.

Waterboarding.

Skin grafting.

I didn’t know what they meant.

“She knows too much. He wants his time with her first though, wants to shame her…”

Another man left.

And then my mom crooked her finger with tears in her eyes. “Andrei, I love you more than life itself.”

“I love you.” I didn’t understand love much. My mother wasn’t often around me, my dad wouldn’t allow it. But I felt something inside my chest for her. Something important.

She pressed a finger to her lips and then revealed a knife out from under the blanket. “I need you to do this for me, Andrei.”

My eyes widened in horror.

What was she asking?

“He will kill me regardless. This way I feel no pain. If you love me, you will help me.”

It was unfair to ask your own blood for that sort of mercy.

I shook my head.

“Please.” More tears streamed down her cheeks.

I shook my head again. “No, I can’t.”

“You can.”

“I can’t!” I screamed, not realizing I was sobbing over her body, not realizing that the minute I’d tried tossing myself onto her, she’d aimed the tip of the knife to her chest.

My weight sent it directly into her heart.

I was seven.

“You know why we’re here.” The silver-haired man grabbed a bottle of wine and began pouring in the glasses I’d grabbed.

I knew I looked pale.

Maybe it was his face that triggered the memory.

Maybe it was his smell.

Something about him was familiar.

Something about him looked like my mother.

He was old, at least eighty.

“Do I?” I finally answered, still trying to put the pieces together.

“You look like her.” He shook his head. “We thought she ran off with her lover—instead we found out he purchased her from the De Lange Family.

“Her price was three million dollars, something Alexander Petrov bragged about to the world. He bought his Italian bride with blood money and said he loved her, but his love was a lie.”

“So, the treachery goes all the way back…” I mused looking around the room. “I’m sorry he took her. He wasn’t a good man. Then again, are any of us?”

“You defend him?”

I snorted. “I’d stab him in the heart then beg God to give him life again just so I could watch his face as I drove the knife deeper into his skin, again, and again, and again.

“You want to know what I hate? I hate that I wasn’t the one that did it.”

His eyes widened briefly. “Do you know who I am, son?”

“You’re Sinacore,” I whispered. “And you’re here for me, of course.”

The rest of the guys were silent, but each of them was tense like they were waiting for a shot to go off.

Or maybe waiting to restrain me.

“My name is Louis Sinacore, I have been underboss ever since your mother and her sister were taken. One day they were playing in the field, the next…” He shook his head.

My eyes narrowed. “Parent?”

“I’m your grandfather.” He said it so factually that I almost laughed.

“What?” I felt like I couldn’t swallow, like the room was imploding, or maybe that was just my brain. “What do you mean my grandfather?”

“Does he still need the sex talk?” This from Tex.

I shot him an annoyed look.

He held up his hands in mock innocence.

“And you’re here now because?” I gritted my teeth. “What? You wanted a fucking family reunion?”

I knew what he wanted.

I just needed him to say it out loud.

I needed it to be over.

“We didn’t know she was your mother, not until a few months ago, we had no idea. We would have come sooner.”

“I did just fine,” I said through clenched teeth.

His face was remorseful. “Don’t lie, son.”

I shot to my feet.

He slowly got to his, and then he held out his white rose and nodded to the man next to him who stood as well, he grabbed a knife from his pocket and sliced Louis' right hand.

Louis closed his eyes and squeezed his hand and then opened it as three drops of blood splashed against the white petals.

Before I knew what was happening, every single one of the men I called friend restrained me, while Louis approached.

I let out a shout.

It was no use.

Me against them.

I’d never felt more betrayed in my life as Louis held the rose in front of my face like a bad omen and then with the help of his men, moved to his knees.

I struggled against the guys.

Chase grabbed my left hand.

And cut what was left of my Russian tattoo.

The sickle, the bleeding stars.

But he left the crown.

Confused, I looked down as Louis held up the white rose in his left hand, an antique crown tattoo wrapped around the back of his hand.

It was identical to mine.

Chase squeezed my blood onto the rose.

Drip. My old life was gone.

Drip. My new life wasn’t given, it was forced.

Drip. I would never forgive them.

Drip. I struggled as one more drip landed on the rose.

And then Louis was helped to his feet. As he pulled the petals one by one, they dropped at my feet.

“If we spill your blood, you may spill ours. We honor the new Sinacore boss, blood of his mother, cut from his father.

“You are no longer Andrei Petrov, you are Andrei Sinacore, and you will rule this family until the day you leave this earth. Sangue in no fuori.”

The guys released me.

I stood there in shock.

I wasn’t given a say.

I knew I didn’t have a choice.

I didn’t know it would be like this.

Louis pulled out a card—the patron saint of Edward the Confessor, only people in a line of Kings were given that saint.

I opened my mouth to tell him to stop the ridiculous ceremony, to tell him I didn’t want anything to do with my father, my mother, with anyone but the woman who owned me.

I locked eyes with Louis as he pressed the card to my forehead and then very slowly lit the edge on fire with a lighter, only to blow it out immediately.

“As burns this saint, so burns my soul.”

Chase elbowed me in the side while someone else kneed me in the back.

With clenched teeth, I sealed my fate and whispered, “As burns his saint, so burns my soul.”

“It is finished.” Louis beamed.

The guys let me go.

Chase’s shirt had speckles of blood.

Seemed I was hiding more than one De Lange.

It was over.

In more ways than one.

Louis took off his ring—it was identical to the tattoo—and with great force, he shoved it onto my left hand like a fucking wedding ring.

“Now,” Louis clasped his hands. “Before business, we drink.”

Finally, something I agreed with.

But I couldn’t move.

I was rooted to the ground as the guys all walked around me and started talking about the weather, their kids, the new Maybach that was just announced.

I stood there.

Completely fucking empty.