Blood, Bones, and the Bratva Bogeyman (31 Days of Trick or Treat: Biker & Mobster #37)
Prologue
The powerful auras of the four masked figures traveling down the dimly lit corridor towards me add an ominous edge to the already dangerous vibe these meetings always hold.
We’re the heads of the five most powerful mafia families in the world.
Our bloodlines have been around for thousands of years, living in the daylight and thriving in the shadows.
We survive in the dark, dreary depths of societies that would love nothing more than to lock us up for the crimes we’ve committed.
The same citizens we protect are the very ones who would come for us with pitchforks if they knew the true secrets of who we are.
Enemies would sever our heads and place them on a pike to prove to the world how tough they are.
Once we’re flash-bonded with our chosen, they’d never stand a chance against us.
Secrets are our life-force. They’re the bonds we’ve forged and the ones we continue to create. Each relationship we build ensures the continuity of our existence.
Before our great-great grandfathers created Venatori Nocturnus, we were enemies.
Families pitted against families, each trying to stay at the top of the food chain.
Meaningless blood feuds claimed many lives.
Brothers, wives, mothers, fathers, children—all casualties of a war that would never have a true victor.
The loss of so many of our own was a wound that ached, but from the ashes of that tragedy, a powerful alliance among five families arose.
The sound of boots landing in harmonizing steps pulls me from my thoughts.
Their hooded robes sweep against the floor as they close the distance between us. Our identities remain hidden for the moment as they come to a stop in front of me. We bow our heads in greeting before turning to the stone wall before us.
I step up to the thick silver box off to the side and pull my glove back enough for the heel of my palm to be exposed.
Then I press it against the hole in the middle of the box.
There’s a small prick as the needle jabs into my skin before retreating to process my blood.
The system will search for the special markers within the cells that we were each born with.
The ones that indicate we’re something other—something human, yet more.
Our elders put our blood into the system at birth, securing our place in the secret organization.
Our DNA is unable to be cloned for nefarious purposes.
A breakdown in the cells happens when they’re no longer flowing through our bodies.
After the light flashes green, I step away so the others can confirm their identity.
The stone wall groans as it slides back to reveal a sealed titanium door.
The first lock disengages once we’re all cleared, and a small slot on the door glides back to reveal five keyholes.
We pull them from our necks and place them in their respective slots, then turn them clockwise simultaneously.
A unique design and an irreplicable embedded chip distinguish each key from its owner.
The last lock disengages, and the door slides open with a quiet hiss, revealing the enormous room inside.
Sanctum.
Stepping inside, we make our way to stand behind our place at the round table. We wait for the door to lock behind us before we start our last round of verifications. The modulated tones of the voice boxes inside our skeleton masks keep our voices as hidden as our faces.
“Bugimen,” I say.
Bogeyman.
“Il fantasma.”
The Ghost.
Battista Tersigni. Head of the Cosa Nostra.
“An naomh.”
The Saint.
Tiernan Fitzpatrick. Head of the Irish Mob and one-third of The Irish Trinity.
“The Jackal.”
Kingston Blackwell. Head of The Firm.
“El Pacificador.”
The Peacemaker.
Ignacio Zaragoza. Head of the Mexican Cartel.
After confirming our identities, we pull back our hoods and unstrap our masks.
The four faces of the men I’ve grown up with in this underground organization stare back at me, each with a rare smile on their face.
“You have finally found your flash bonded, no?” Battista confirms proudly.
My eyes clash with Kingston’s bright blue ones. They give nothing away as he regards me steadily, but he would have felt my bond lock in place with someone from his bloodline.
Each of us knew this day would come. The story of flash bonds is passed down from generation to generation.
A partner the fates have determined was a perfect match for you.
It locks into place the moment you set eyes on one another.
It’s an explosion in your soul that anchors you to this person who is supposed to unearth all your hidden potential.
Although I was familiar with the stories my Papa and Dedushka touted proudly, there was still skepticism within me.
I’ve never needed anyone, and believing that to become my most powerful, I’ll need a bonded, sets me on edge. These men before me will lay down their lives for me as I will them, but trusting anyone else outside of my men and the ones in this room doesn’t sit well with me.
“Da,” I answer, pulling my eyes from Kingston.
“Keeping us in suspense, Kirovsky?” Tiernan teases.
I ignore them for the moment as I undress. I place my gloves on the table and hang my robe and mask up on the peg behind me.
They’re all so eager to know about the woman the fates have chosen for me, while I want to do nothing more than run from it. We all crave the extra power. We’d be foolish not to because we can do a great deal with it. The boost to my power isn’t what I have a problem with.
For a man who doesn’t fear much, there is now a beautiful little fox who terrifies me.
Kingston tilts his head, his empty eyes still studying me. “Too good for my sister, Bogeyman?”
“Shit,” Ignacio says.
“Cressida is perfect. That’s the problem. These bonds are supposed to be convenient marriages solely to gain all our powers. Nothing more,” I tell Kingston truthfully.
Honesty keeps the trust strong.
Kingston’s eyes finally flash with amusement, and I grit my teeth. “What’s wrong? Is the big bad Pakhan afraid of falling in love?”
Fucking Englishman.
I scoff, fixing the cuffs of my shirt and pulling the arms of my suit jacket down. “Love. Such weakness.”
Instead of being pissed at me for the implication that I will never love his sister, he just laughs softly and shakes his head. “Pity you believe that. It’ll be fun watching you realize differently. Cressida knows her place in our world, but she’s a force all her own.”
“Lovely,” I deadpan. “Shall we get down to business? We need to plan this out so you can inform Cressida of her duty.”
The smile slides from his face to be replaced with a grimace, and I hide the curling of my lips behind my hand.
“Is the big bad leader of The Firm terrified of one tiny woman?” I mock.
The others laugh as Kingston lifts his middle finger in the air.
“We will announce our engagement at the masquerade your family hosts. There will be enough families in attendance for the news of the alliance between us to spread. We should expect pushback. These unions are never popular among others.”
Kingston shrugs. “Because they don’t understand that these marriages were written in the stars thousands of years ago.”
“Fanciful fuck,” the Irishman taunts.
“I just don’t fight fate as much as you fuckers,” Kingston replies with a smirk.
His tune may change when he’s the one hit with his flash bond.
The way that shot of electricity shoots through the bloodstream is an addictive high that’s dangerous.
It’s a hint of the power we’ll receive once fully bonded.
It’s a tease that leaves a craving on your tongue.
Many men have killed for another hit of something so potent.
“We’ll see if you still feel the same when it’s your turn, Jackal,” I reply.
Cressida Blackwell is a convenience. A way to gain all my powers as long as she’s accepting of our union. Kingston assures me she understands her place in the mafia world. That’s something I will hold him to. Otherwise, our alliance in this organization will no longer be as friendly as it has been.
I’m curious to see how my powers will manifest.
Speed? Strength? Vision? All of them? Or will they grow into something else altogether?
Anticipation licks up my spine, and my fingertips tingle at the thought of all that I’ll have when I’m fully bonded.