A Mafia Royals Romance

Asher

I chose my words carefully with Claire. I made her think it was more adventure, less killing, but the truth was that we’d been in a war for years—one that none of us knew how to navigate.

And it wasn’t one that made sense.

Because it was a war within our Family.

When the uncles started popping out kids, they suddenly realized they had the money and the power to send their kids anywhere. Some of the kids studied abroad; some didn’t come back. They didn’t want anything to do with this life. And that was the problem. They were already a part of it, and we weren’t allowed loose ends. And in the fucking end, we weren’t really allowed a choice. Yes, you can study in Spain, but you sure as hell better come back here and join the fold. Because if you didn’t, you were considered a loose end, and it didn’t matter whose kid you were—a loose end was dangerous. Too dangerous to live.

I clung to Claire as she slept in my arms, and then kissed her forehead and slowly crawled out of bed. I made my way downstairs and wasn’t at all surprised to see my dad sitting on the couch—knife in one hand, gun in the other.

With a sigh, I moved to stand in front of him. “Do I want to know?”

“I don’t even want to know,” he rasped, and then looked up at me. “I would have killed every fucking person in this godforsaken world to get you free of this life, but of course, I was cursed with a younger version of myself, wasn’t I?”

I smirked. “Did you just call your favorite child a curse?”

He groaned. “Did you just call yourself favorite?”

“I won’t tell the others.” I uncrossed my arms and then moved to sit next to him on the couch. He had at least twenty pounds of muscle on me, and I was still a big guy, but my dad had learned a long time ago the only way for him to fight his demons was to literally beat the shit out of a punching bag and lift so many weights that he could compete and win against most guys his size. “Why are you really here?”

“I need my best,” he said with a hint of sadness. “And the others don’t have the stomach for it yet since you and I made a pact to protect them as much as possible.”

I sighed as heaviness washed over me. “Junior already down there?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t look at me. “His intel’s right, it’s always right; the little shit lives and breathes for his intel.”

“I’m not the only apple who fell directly off the tree into madness,” I agreed. “Can Vic watch the house while I go in?”

“Already on it.” My dad waved a hand behind him as Vic made his way stealthily into the living room, gun raised. “Give us a few minutes, Vic; try not to scare the shit out of Claire if she wakes up.”

Vic rolled his eyes. “I’ll do my best.”

“Well—” I held out my hand while my dad put the knife in my palm. “—let’s get this over with.”

My dad snorted. “Yeah, yeah, you have fun; remember, I didn’t see anything… I’m clean now that I’m in politics.”

Vic burst out laughing behind us.

It was rare to hear him laugh.

Then again, that was fucking hilarious.

I gave my dad a “yeah right” look and then grabbed the gun from him as well. “Go back to bed, hug Ma, you know I’ve got this.”

My dad put his hand on my shoulder and then gripped it, pulling me in for a tight hug. “I’m proud of you.”

My throat almost closed up. All I’d ever wanted was to be him, and all he’d ever wanted was for me to run away.

We don’t always get what we want.

But I did, in this life, I did. Because when I looked in the mirror, I saw him, and I was proud to be his son.

“Thanks, Dad.” I hugged him back. “I’ll be quick, you know how it is when you have a naked woman waiting for—”

He slapped the back of my head.

I laughed and then winked at his amused expression.

With a sigh, I walked around the house; the suits all gave me a wide berth—they knew what I looked like when I was given a job.

Complete focus.

Lethal.

I made it to the side of the house, typed in the code for the metal door, and waited for it to click open.

There were twenty-two stairs leading down to our dungeons.

Really, they were just bulletproof, soundproof rooms with drains for all the rivers of blood. It was like a playroom for assassins.

My dad had taken me down there when I was eleven.

And at twelve, he gave me a choice.

Run or shoot.

I didn’t run.

“Junior.” I nodded to my cousin, who was flicking a knife with his fingertip, and then to Serena, who looked like she was just getting ready to sneak out to a club. “Serena.”

“Stop looking at me like that; I’m wearing leather, hardly a crime.” She snorted.

“You’re two years older than me and look like a prostitute,” I pointed out.

Junior gulped and averted his eyes. When I looked closely, I could see the smudge of lipstick on his neck.

Interesting.

Junior never looked unsettled. He and Serena were the oldest, which meant I looked to them for calm, and right now, they looked caught.

Ignoring it for now, I peeled off my t-shirt and handed it to her. “Even so, put this on before Uncle Nixon comes down here to murder Junior and me for having eyes, all right?”

“Gross.” She shuddered like we both didn’t give orgasms with one wink and put on the t-shirt. Junior sighed like he was relieved, and I didn’t miss the way his jaw tensed when his eyes flickered back to mine.

Well, shit. Didn’t see that coming.

We would have words about this later.

Because that was the one rule our uncles gave us growing up.

Fight, kill, bleed, destroy—but never, ever, look at any of the uncles’ kids in any way other than like your own brother or sister.

The penalty was death.

And they were fucking serious.

I knew because I’d killed a cousin for it at sixteen. He’d been obsessed with Violet, and she’d actually really liked him. Sergio found them together, and the rest was history. He’d been one of Axel’s oldest. I was still traumatized over it. It’s like his kids just didn’t get why they had to become a part of this family.

“Let’s go.” I tossed the knife in the air and walked into the first room. He was tied to a chair—Axel Abandonato’s youngest son.

He was eighteen.

He wanted to be a doctor.

But the Capo, Tex, needed him to at least be made before he was allowed to become a doctor, and if he did, he worked for the Family, for whenever we needed him—the point he had to be on our fucking payroll. Titan had been less than thrilled about that; then again, he still thought he had a choice when the only choice we had was in what way we served the Family. And running wasn’t an option because running only meant they were giving you a head start before you got a bullet in your head.

“Hey, man.” I walked in and clicked the door shut behind me; Serena and Junior watched from the monitor outside.

“Fuck. You.” Titan spat onto the floor a mixture of blood and spit; he looked a lot like me, only he was younger and seriously drove me nuts—he didn’t want this life; he wanted out.

Well, there was only one way out.

I stared him down. “This is what you want? Really?”

He glared. “Is there any other option?”

“Not really, no.”

“Just make it look real,” he grumbled. “And hopefully, I’ll pass out sooner rather than later from blood loss.”

I cursed. “Titan, you could just do a few jobs here and there, go to school, and then report back; it doesn’t have to be all or nothing.”

“I want to save lives, not take them.” His stupid ass answer.

“Great, so now I get to rough up my own flesh and blood all because you think you’re better than this?” I spread my arms wide. “None of us are better than this; this is your blood, Titan, your life. Once this is done, you’re out of this Family, forever. You get that, right? And not because we shun you, but because you fucking die!”

I wasn’t sure why I was trying to change his mind.

Maybe because he thought he’d be free.

Maybe because he believed the lie that we told the kids—that if they wanted out, all they had to do was deal with me. But he knew better. He was my friend. He fucking knew! I could see it in the way he refused to look at me. His eyes were glassy. He was done. And he’d decided.

Titan shrugged and looked forward. “I hate this family. The death. The blood. I want out.”

Maybe I had an ounce of kindness left in me because I didn’t shoot him in the head first. I shot him in both legs, then I shot into his right bicep, so his arm dangled at his side. He screamed out in pain.

And then I unleashed my knife, stabbing him in the back over and over again. Nothing deep; it would burn like hell, and it would triple his blood loss.

His head fell forward. “Still want out?”

“Go to hell!” he roared.

“See you there,” I answered, emptying my gun into his chest.

I looked away as the last bit of life left his body.

And started to shake when Junior walked in and handed me the Bible. Serena’s demeanor was calm as she recited our family oath over him and blessed him as his soul left this earth.

“Blood in. No out,” she whispered.

“Blood in,” we repeated. “No out.”