Chapter 1
Chapter One
Azrael
Present day
The excitement in the car causes irritation to infect my veins like poison, and I turn to face the window in the hope of blocking it out.
My father is his usual overzealous self, full of excitement and anticipation.
His behavior mirrors that of an infant, and I don’t have the patience to deal with him.
Least of all, the bastard sitting beside him, Vector, my father’s right-hand man and confidant.
The man is beyond deranged on every level.
A sick savage who has very little control, and I’d pity whoever ends up in his hands if I had feelings, which I don’t.
I decided a long time ago that I was totally incapable of such things.
Perhaps the issue lies with sharing genetics with my father.
Somehow, our younger sister, Sienna, is more than capable of experiencing emotions; the girl wears her heart on her sleeve despite my urging her not to.
But the men in our world are created differently, crafted from a young age to be … unfeeling, if you will. They then utilize the ability in order to protect themselves and their family.
Our father always taught us that having feelings for women is a weakness, and the potential of an enemy discovering a weakness is not one we can afford, so we simply don’t.
Women are to be used for what they are created for, to take our pleasure from, and should we choose to grant them theirs, we provide it. Women are here to procreate our heirs, to birth them safely, and be discarded appropriately before any feelings can be reciprocated.
I’ve had the same speech drilled into me time and time again for as long as I can remember. Women are to be used and disposed of as we see fit. If they’re not a financial asset, they’re a hindrance.
“I’ve heard there’s a new shipment arriving from Florida. The whores there are of good quality,” my father says with glee. “They’ve already had all the enhancements.” I watch his reflection in the glass as he waves his hand over his chest and face.
My appetite for sex sours in an instant, and I’m pissed I’ve come along for the auction if all I’m going to see is the type of women my father likes to fuck.
Is that why my sexual preferences are so unlike his?
I’d rather be anyone but him, and as much as I’d like to be the complete opposite of him, even I can’t deny the similarities in our appearance.
The jet-black hair, coal-colored eyes, and sharp features; the only thing missing from him is the scar he delivered so savagely to my face as a teenager.
Unfortunately, I’m a younger version of the devil himself, and worse, he likes to remind me of it.
“What are you looking for tonight, Azrael?” Vector prods, and I slice my gaze toward his.
The man would love my position in the Carrera dynasty, and if he could change my father’s mindset and lead him to believe I’m incapable, he would.
He’s not to be trusted, not in the slightest, yet my father allows him to remain by his side, adamant that he is loyal to La Familia.
My glare does nothing to wilt his stare.
The twitch in his lip tells me he’s goading me, but I refuse to back down.
The fucker needs to remember his place. I won’t give him the reaction he’s hoping for.
I remain impassive, knowing he’s trying to incite my father’s uncertainties surrounding my capabilities.
Rage boils behind my calm expression, but I’ve grown up with the ability to mask my emotions; after all, they’re a weakness I can’t afford.
“A willing whore,” I state. A subtle dig at the fact that his pickings would be someone unwilling. Man or woman.
He lifts a shoulder. “I like the fight.” Sick bastard.
My father chuckles, no doubt sensing the animosity growing between us. “Where is Czar tonight?” he asks, opting to defer the impending tension.
My younger brother runs our underground fight clubs as well as our many strip clubs. Our father knows damn well where he is tonight; he arranged the fight, Stone, our half-brother, is taking part in.
“I think I might head over to the club after the auction.” Vector licks his lip like a predator, his eyes never leaving mine.
He likes to fuck with Stone. Torture him, to be precise, and he knows it angers the fuck out of me how our father allows him to abuse Stone purely because he’s a bastard child of his.
I’m only thankful Sienna doesn’t receive the same treatment.
Her mother was one of the kitchen helpers, and even before our mother’s death, she became a permanent fixture in the house.
Nonna spent time showing her our family recipes, and only now do I see she was training her to take her place, as if knowing her fate.
Such a shame she succumbed to a similar fate as our own mother, only this one chose to shoot herself, something we never told Sienna.
She is, after all, our baby sister to protect.
Still, Father appears to favor her. Her photo remains in our home like she was more deserving of all of those before and after her.
While Sienna’s beauty being the mirror image of hers worries me, Czar insists it’s become her savior.
All I can do is find Stone the best MMA trainers possible, in the hopes we craft him into becoming a fighting machine, one our father cannot ignore as a cash cow.
Of late, I’ve even managed to persuade Father that Vector’s perverse punishment toward Stone was affecting our profit, and he appears to have been more lenient with him.
My lip curls and his eyes narrow. “Can you not last all night with the whores at the auction, Vector?” I respond.
Insulting his inability to fuck should knock the fucker down a peg or two.
“At least the whores won’t be disappointed in your lack of skills.
That’s one good thing about them being unwilling, I guess.
” I offer a smirk for good measure, knowing how much it annoys the hell out of him.
I can practically see the steam coming out of his ears. His face reddens, his temple pulsates, but the fucker knows he can’t react, not how he’d like to, at least.
My father claps multiple times to draw my attention toward him. “Now, now, boys. We’re almost there.” He points out the window, and quite frankly, I feel nothing. No excitement or giddiness. No disgust or nausea, as I know some suffer. I am devoid of my surroundings.
I have, after all, been coming here since I became a man.
As part of the celebrations to honor me killing Nonna, to be precise.
And now I am thirty-four and still just as miserable.