Vicious Crown (Royal Syndicate #3)

Chapter 1

Matt

She looks almost the same as she did when I last saw her, over twenty-five years ago.

I was just a kid when my mom died, when that car bomb threw me back onto the sidewalk, when Dad scooped me up and ran me back inside.

He wouldn’t let me see her. Said it would be too painful, even for a child of the Royal Syndicate. Dad handled everything himself, from identifying the body to making funeral arrangements, and even commissioning an elaborate tomb for Mom’s remains.

So how is she standing here now?

While I lie there like a dumbass, Aron slowly creeps forward behind Mom, his face ghostly pale. Aron was there that day, too, whisked away by his dad and kept hidden with me while the adults did their adult things.

Mom turns to Aron with a smile on her slightly aged face, but even with the added lines and grey streaks, there’s no mistaking her. Not for those of us who knew her.

“Lucinda?” Aron’s voice drips incredulity, like he’s in as much shock as I am.

“Hello, Aron. How is my second son?”

He stops just out of Mom’s reach and looks down at me. “Better than your real son. Why is he tied up?”

Shit. I think Aron has forgotten that we’re supposed to be enemies now. This could go south fast for him if he doesn’t come to his senses. There are witnesses and guards who could easily spread word of his comment and poison the minds of his officers against him.

Mom seems unphased. “He’s like that for his own safety. You know the Empire won’t stand for Matteo to be loose. We have to follow the rules set by Javier here.”

“Dad’s dead, Lucinda. His rules don’t apply unless I say they do.”

“Why?” she scoffs. “Because you’re his son? I would think Javier’s wife would have higher standing in his absence.”

What the fuck?

Aron rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his broad chest. “Dad didn’t have a wife, Lucinda. Don’t you remember? My mom died in childbirth.”

I can’t see Mom’s face from here, but I can hear the smug smirk in her response.

“Well, yes, but your father remarried, Aron. Twenty-five years ago, actually.”

Jules hit my head too hard when he knocked me out. That has to be it. Mom alive … and married to Javier? That’s insane. The timing alone would mean that Mom and Javier faked her death to hide her affair with him, which is a ridiculous notion in and of itself. Mom loved my dad, she—

Wait.

Hold up.

Twenty-five years ago … another relationship, another marriage …

My eyes swing over to Emily, and my stomach churns.

Emily’s sapphire gaze meets mine, her eyes the same blue that Mom and I share, and her lips spread in a wide, manic grin. She nods slowly, winking at me, then puts her free hand on Aron’s shoulder.

I think I’m going to be sick.

Aron brushes her hand off, still glaring at Mom. “Not now, Emily.”

Shit, he doesn’t realize it yet. He hasn’t done the math. What should I do? If I tell him, he might blame me for being the bearer of terrible, disgusting news, but if I don’t …

Mom saves me from that fate.

“Aron, honey, tell me how old your bride is. She seems younger than you, yes? I’d wager about ten, eleven years maybe?”

Emily giggles, and Aron pales even more. I can almost see the sick realization come to light in his eyes, see the devastation, the betrayal. God, I wish I could go to him. I wish I could take him away from here, away from this fucked-up family reunion.

“Stop playing, Mom. You know how old I am.”

“Mom” … Emily said it. She really said it.

Aron backs away from Emily, gagging. He bends at the waist and hurls, dry heaving.

My heart goes out to him. This is some next-level soap opera bullshit. It’s completely unbelievable.

Except … if it’s so fucking crazy, why aren’t the guards with them acting surprised?

I would think that Mom’s resurrection, combined with the revelation that Emily is Aron and my half-sister, would be enough to confuse and disgust even the most jaded of guards.

Why are they just standing there like it’s no big deal? That makes no sense, unless—

—Unless the Empire knew all along.

How deep did Javier’s treachery go? He only killed my dad, his former don, a month ago.

That’s not enough time to explain this tangled mess to his new Empire associates, and definitely not enough time for them to accept this as normal.

That means the Syndicate defectors knew before they left to join the Empire.

Fuck.

Dad’s assassination was planned long before it happened. It wasn’t some spontaneous rebellion by Javier; it was orchestrated.

How many of the Syndicate guards and officers that I trusted were in on this? Are there more still working in the Syndicate, like Jules was? Do we have more spies, more moles in our organization?

If I ever get out of this, I’m going to have to rethink everything.

God, poor Aron. This will kill him. Even his marriage is suspect now.

Emily knew. With the way she acts, she had to know.

I doubt she was even really adopted; that was probably another farce.

Her supposed parents at the wedding must’ve been paid actors.

Unless it was an open adoption? Mom and Javier could have raised Emily behind the scenes, molding her for this convoluted plot.

Maybe they convinced Emily that marrying her half-brother was a normal thing.

This still doesn’t make sense. Javier seemed even more religious than Dad, so I wouldn’t think he’d agree to this. How, then …?

“Mom?”

I look up at her again, and she glances down at me. “Yes, Matty?”

Fuck. No one’s ever called me that but her. My heart aches despite all this new information. She’s still my mother, for fuck’s sake.

“Did Javier know?” I have to find out how deep this went. “About Emily. Did Aron’s—did their father know?”

Mom chuckles. “Goodness, no! He would have had me killed. I had to hide her.”

Javier hid Mom. Mom hid Emily. Emily hid the fact that she was Aron’s sister. So many fucking lies.

“Why didn’t you come back sooner?”

She shrugs. “I needed all my children together for this. Can you imagine if you’d heard it secondhand, or if Aron had? No. This was something that required both of you with us, so everything could come to light at once.”

Jesus Christ! Mom’s as fucked up as Emily. Is this what I have to look forward to, or is this insanity only passed down to the women in the family?

Off to the side, Aron finally straightens after emptying what little he had in his stomach. He pulls his gun with a shaky hand, turning it first on Mom, then Emily. His wife doesn’t even flinch. She just holds Maria’s hand and waves at Aron with it, like this is all a game.

That little motion does something to Aron.

I watch as his face crumples, and my heart goes out to him.

He loves that little girl more than anything, more maybe even than me.

With his head in his hands, Aron falls to his knees, sobbing quietly.

His guards exchange awkward glances, unsure what to make of this show of weakness.

What they can’t see from their angle, though, is another change in Aron. Darkness consumes his handsome features, a rage that signals a coming storm.

“I’m sorry, Matt.”

His apology is quiet and deceptively calm. I give him the barest of nods. Whatever he has planned, I forgive him for it. He could slaughter everyone in this barn, myself included, and I would still forgive him.

Aron straightens. Takes aim.

He shoots my mother in the stomach.

Maria wails, and the Empire guards scramble to arm themselves, but Aron is faster.

He shoots out the lights next, causing a cascade of sparks and falling glass.

Muzzle flashes flare in the resulting chaos as more shots fire out, and a pair of strong hands lifts me up.

I’m tossed over someone’s shoulder and carried through the darkness, unable to see who managed to pick me up until the back door to the room bursts open.

Moonlight casts a hazy glow on Aron as he races through the overgrown fields surrounding the building that held me, which I now see is a giant barn.

As my lover speeds away from the scene, I ponder our next moves.

Mom could still survive with the wound he gave her, meaning this is far from over.

There’s still a whole criminal organization that wants my head, and probably Aron’s now, too.

Then I remember the Royal Syndicate. Somehow, we’ve got to weed out any potential spies or turncoats, all while convincing loyal Syndicate officers that Aron isn’t the real threat. Mom is.

Once we’re far enough away from the barn with no signs of pursuit, Aron stops long enough to cut me loose. He checks the cut on my head with tender fingers, then looks deep into my eyes. For a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me, but instead …

“No concussion. Do you think you’re good to run from here?”

Damn. “Yeah. I’m good.”

Aron leads the way through shoulder-high grass and weeds until we finally come to a rotting wooden fence. We hop over and disappear into the night.