Vendetta

1. Chapter 1

Rosalina

Aprickle of cold sweat crawled down my spine.

This was a mistake. I should know better than to walk alone at night.

The feeling of being watched chafed against my skin as I made my way down the foggy sidewalk.

I glanced over my shoulder, but only the hollow eyes of streetlights glared through the chilly air. There wasn’t a soul to be found, but I could feel it—someone was watching me.

In the distance, the steady throb of music was like a siren, tempting me to return to the club that I had just left.

I should go back and call a rideshare, but I was already halfway to the swanky apartment my father bought for me.

I’d be home long before the driver even got here.

Weighing the options, I picked up my pace. It wasn’t that much further.

I could make it.

The scuff of a shoe on concrete had me spinning around, my stilettos slipping on the wet asphalt. “Who’s there?” I called, doing my best to keep the tremor out of my voice.

No reply.

The sickly simmer of fear burned in my stomach.

Fuck.

Was I being paranoid? Probably.

But what if I wasn’t? What if the Morenos were coming to finish the job they’d started seven years ago? Goosebumps erupted along my arms, and the hair on the back of my neck sprang to attention. There’d been so much blood. So much death.

My heart hammered in my throat as I remembered that day, but I swallowed it down. The only sound was the click-clack of my spiked heels on the rain-slicked pavement. My hands trembled as I hurried, half running now, ducking between two tall buildings.

If I were quick, I’d be fine.

Just as I stepped into the alley, a shadow fell across my path. Before I even had a chance to run, someone dragged a coarse burlap sack over my head.

My instincts screamed to bolt, but my gut told me to fight.

Adrenaline surged, scorching away that cold rush of panic, and my self-defense training kicked in.

My arms swung around, catching a bristly jaw with my fist and a nose full of familiar pheromones.

A flicker of anxiety ignited in my belly—alpha.

Goddammit. If I got out alive, some motherfucker was going to pay.

The memory of my father’s missed calls flashed through my mind. He’d been trying to warn me about something.

I should’ve listened.

But then, I smelled it. I recognized that scent, and my stomach dropped. I knew why they were here.

My attacker grunted at the impact of my swinging arms, but wasn’t deterred. These stupid shoes were terrible for brawling in the street, but better than being barefoot. Some asshole was out here wrecking my hair.

Good thing I was done for the night, because I wasn’t getting into another club looking like this. One of these days, making jokes while in emergency situations was going to be my downfall.

I stomped on the alpha’s skittering feet with little success, and then my hands were wrestled behind my back where a loop of slick plastic jerked tight over my wrists.

Fuck. My. Life.

Tired of the charade, I called out from inside the sack, hoping like hell that I was right about this.

“Diego! I know it’s you. I can smell the cigars on your breath.

” The stench of burlap overshadowed the familiar pheromones, but they were still there, lingering in the air.

Even with the muted scent, I was reasonably sure of who was fighting me.

“Let me go! We can talk about this.” A hint of petulant whine colored my words, but I couldn’t help it.

I didn’t want to go back. I wanted to stay at college, away from my father and his blood-soaked world.

But right now, I was powerless to do anything about it, stumbling around blind.

“Not this time, princesa. Your papá wants you home.”

I wheezed out a defeated sigh, relieved it was who I thought and not someone worse, but still upset at what this meant for my prospects of finishing school. “Fine! Fine. Just let me loose. I’ll come quietly.”

Even I could hear the lie in that promise.

“Oh no, chica. I haven’t forgotten what happened last time. The restraints are for my protection.” He chuckled and curled his hand through the crook of my elbow.

Defeated, I leaned into his side, soaking up the small comfort of his warmth.

Diego was as close to a father figure as he could’ve been without having been a member of my dad’s decimated pack.

The life expectancy of crime lords was exceedingly short, and I had little in the way of family remaining.

The fact that my father was still alive to remind me of it was nothing short of a miracle.

The unmistakable crunch of tires on asphalt was like a death knell as a flood of headlights crept under the bag that shrouded my vision.

Before I could react, I heard a door open, and I was ushered into the back seat of a car.

If the buttery leather against the backs of my thighs hadn’t given away the identity of my abductors, the scent of expensive whiskey and cigars would have done so. I was in one of my father’s town cars.

I fucking hated this.

All I wanted was a normal life. I wanted to party, drown my sorrows, and go to class hungover the next morning.

It didn’t seem like too much to ask. Shifting in my seat, I strained my wrists against the zip tie, trying to get my hands loose to no avail.

This sucked. Everything was falling apart.

And what was worse, I’d miss the normality of my beta friends and our stupid drinking games, and borrowing clothes, and trading notes for the impossible history test we’d all spent hours studying for.

“Come on, Diego! My grades aren’t bad. I’m not failing a single class.

Please!” I wasn’t above begging and bribery, and the way to Diego’s heart was through his sweet omega.

“Does Maria need a fur coat? Diamond earrings? A new car?” I’d worked too hard to get into college for my father to ruin my chance at freedom, without trying every underhanded tactic there was to get around it.

“Rosalina, stop this. It isn’t about your grades. You should’ve come home when your papá told you to.” The leather creaked as my father’s second in command slid into the seat opposite me.

“If it’s not about my grades, then what’s it about?” I asked, settling into the sumptuous upholstery as best I could with my hands locked behind my back and a scratchy sack obscuring my vision.

All I did was study and go to class. Except tonight.

Tonight was something else. Tonight, I’d been trying to forget it was the anniversary of my brother’s death.

Seven years ago, the Moreno crime family had gunned down my brother and most of my father’s pack right in front of me.

Every year on this day I did my best to drink until I forgot. It never worked.

There was no reason to pull me out of school for a single night of partying with my friends.

It wasn’t like I was bouncing from one beta’s bed to the next, or ‘ruining my reputation,’ and I kept my distance from the alphas on campus.

Alphas could be dangerous, but a quick fling or an accidental bonding wasn’t anything I was interested in.

Plus, it wouldn’t be worth the aggravation when my father found out, and he always did.

As his last living child, I understood the overabundance of caution, to a point. Even if I didn’t like it. He loved me, but he knew I’d left home for an education, not dick. No one here cared who my family was or how much money we had.

I was safe at school.

He’d never been to college, so he wouldn’t understand. He’d always been more focused on building his empire of blood, and even though he promised me otherwise, it looked like my days of freedom were numbered.

After a moment of silence, Diego spoke up.

“It’s probably better if I let your papá explain it to you.

If I take the bag off your head, do you promise not to spit, bite, or kick me?

My shins are still black and blue, and I may never be able to have children after your last tantrum. Maria was annoyed with you.”

I couldn’t see him, but I could hear the smile in his voice.

He taught me everything I knew about self-defense, which was probably why he’d caught me so easily.

It’d been years since I resorted to spitting and biting, but he obviously hadn’t forgotten.

“I promise I won’t bite you. And tell her I’m sorry.

Now, can you take this smelly thing off my head?

Please.” I loved Maria. She was closer to a mother than my own had been those last few years in that cold, empty mansion.

The bag slid off, sending my tangle of dark hair flying. The long, wavy strands stuck to the remnants of my smudged lip gloss, and I glowered at Diego, sitting across from me in the dim interior.

“Better?” he asked as he grinned, much to my annoyance.

The amusement on his sun-weathered face was clear as I sputtered, trying to dislodge the wispy tresses from my mouth.

I contemplated kicking him in the shins on principle, but in these shoes?

Probably better not. “Much.” The sarcasm was thick, but it was an improvement.

“Was all this necessary?” I readjusted myself in the seat, asking the question in a casual tone.

He might let something slip if he didn’t know how desperate I was for answers.

To my surprise, he was feeling chatty. “You tell me. You refused all the polite requests. This was the last option. But yes, your father should have explained better. You’re in danger. Someone is making moves. He wants you home where he can protect you.”

“He promised I could go to college, Diego. And besides, no one knows who I am. I’m perfectly safe. Taking me to the compound puts a target on my back.”

“Your papá thinks it’s more secure there. Your cover at school was thin. If the right sort of person were searching for you, they would’ve found you, and you know it.”

I wanted to argue, but he wasn’t wrong. If someone with resources went looking, they could’ve found me. Why would anyone bother to do that now, though? Despite my paranoia about the Morenos and their bloodthirsty reputation, it’d been a very long time since the massacre.

What was going on at home? Had there been another attack?

Icy tendrils of fear trickled back into my veins, and flashes of blood-soaked cement swarmed my vision. Echoes of gunshots and screams drowned out the low rumble of the car. The scent of gunpowder and the warmth of frantic hands pushing me to the ground washed over me.

I shook the memories off. That was in the past. I was safe now.

It’d been so long ago, but even after all that time, I tried and failed to forget. Reminders snuck in, and sometimes the ambush felt like yesterday.

My father’s pack stood as a shield, but when they fell, my brother took the brunt of the bullets meant for me.

Only a few glancing shots made it past him, leaving me scarred but alive.

They all died right in front of me, except my father.

The doctors said the only reason he lived was because their bonded omega, my mother, was safe at home.

Our recovery was long, traumatic, and painful.

We made it, but not without permanent reminders etched into our skin.

After that, nothing was the same.

Partying helped sometimes, but tonight I was just sad, tired, and way less drunk than I’d like to be.

College was supposed to be my chance at freedom from the blood and death. A chance to make my own way in the world, but Diego was dragging me right back into the heart of it all. There was nothing left to do now but mourn the loss of that, too.

He settled into the seat across from me and didn’t seem inclined to divulge more. No further explanation or any kind of apology. The rest of the silent ride to the airport was somber.

I shouldn’t be surprised. When your father was a notorious drug kingpin, you came to expect this sort of shit.