Made Monster (Curse Made #2)

1. Prologue.

Prologue.

Fifteen Years prior.

N ew York- Midnight.

“She is going to need help,” Detective Mathers tells the man as they watch the child through the hospital door.

It’s ajar, but even from his angle Mather’s can see the tiny legs of the little girl sitting on the bed.

“Who else knows about this?” Narciso Dolmino inquires, not looking at the detective.

Tony Mathers stares at the man's profile for a moment. Calling in Narciso was something he had hesitated to do. He didn’t know all the circumstances, but he knew none of it could be good. And if this child was valuable to the notorious mob boss and she ended up in the system, his life would be in danger.

“The responding officers, good guys. They didn’t ask questions when Delizio and I took her from the scene under the pretense of bringing her to the hospital for questioning.”

“What are the doctors saying?” Still, the mob boss doesn’t lift his eyes from the girl.

“Physically, she’s fine. The blood isn’t hers, but they worry that… well, they worry that the experience will leave lasting damage on her.” How could it not?

“What will the report say?” Narciso finally turns to Tony and the detective almost wishes he hadn’t.

Those eyes, cold steel, cold as death. The look in them is hard, questioning and expectant of the right answer.

“Three dead. Two—an elderly couple, the Landlords. A young woman. Late twenties—the target. All shot execution style.”

The image is so vivid in Tony’s head. All he wants to do is go home and tuck his kids into bed, kiss his wife and bury the image of the little girl clinging to her dead mother in the shadows of his mind.

“Four bodies.”

Narciso’s words send a chill down his spine. His face is stone, unmoving and Tony wishes once more he never dialled that number.

“Four bodies,” he repeats. “My wife meant for everyone in that house to be ended, especially her. Let us not disappoint Albenia Dolmino. She will keep coming if the girl survives. Let us give the child some peace.”

The fucking Mafia. Tony hated the organization that put so little weight on human life. Hated it with a passion that his hand itches to reach for his gun and put a bullet in this man's head. The wall of men over his shoulders, however, stills him. Innocent people would die, and for what? He himself had called in this reaper.

“You will kill her?” The words felt stuck in his throat.

“No detective. I don’t relish the thought of filicide. My wife, however, will kill the child of my mistress if its existence will challenge her sons.”

Tony’s head swings to look at the tiny legs on the bed in the other room. A Dolmino. The little girl with her white blonde hair and cherub-like face is a spawn of Satan. It all makes sense now, the empty stare from those impossibly pale grey eyes. He had put it down to the deep-seated trauma of seeing her mother dead.

“What about the executioners? Won’t they expose the truth that the child wasn’t killed?” Tony looked back at the man beside him.

A ghost of a smile tweaked the corners of Narciso’s lips. Those eyes didn’t change though. There was no humor in them, just cold calculation.

“They could if they weren't sleeping beneath cement at this moment,” the way he said it with such casualness will haunt the detective. “They killed my mistress. My wife expects retaliation. She will receive her apology and I will pay my penance for loving another woman.”

Narciso sighs deeply and for a moment, Tony can see a crack in his visage. The don of the Dolmino family is tired. He almost chuckles at the irony of that. Narciso Dolmino is one of the most ruthless Mafia bosses in this city. It must be exhausting leaving a trail of bodies and broken families on your trail to hell.

“You’ll take care of the report?” Narciso questions, eyes moving back to the gap in the door.

“Yes.”

“Good. I will take my daughter, then.” The desire to ask where he would take her itched on the tip of Tony’s tongue.

He bit down on it. It was none of his business and the Dolmino would tell him as much. Narciso motioned for his men as he nudged the door open, but paused on the threshold.

“What is her name?” Narciso asks, those cold eyes finding the detective for the last time.

For a moment, Tony stood in disbelief, rendered speechless.

“Olivia,” he replied, shaking himself.

Narciso nodded and stepped into the room, before closing the door firmly in the detective's face.

There was nothing left for him to do here. He had a report to write, coroner records to change, and a child to disappear like he was a magician in a show. But as he walked the sterile hospital halls, he prayed for her. Prayed she wouldn’t wear the weight of her experience and find peace in this world. He also promised himself that his unit's connections with the mob would end here and now. He will no longer play puppet to the devils. The badge he wore was worth more than that. Little Olivia deserved more than the life that she would have thrust upon her.