Chapter 1
Valentina Abruzzo
Voices roar, fusing into a single sound bouncing off the concrete floor and straight up my spine. Thick air is trapped between my lungs and buzzing ribs. A high, relentless whistle pulses between my eardrums, pressing behind my eyes and stealing the space where thoughts should be.
Thirteen men no longer breathe. Sean O'Malley barely stands. He's fighting for air, bloody and swollen beyond recognition.
I turn to leave when three long beeps cause the hairs on my arms to rise, along with panic and curiosity. I grab my cell phone out of my purse.
Security: Code Red.
My lungs scream for fresh air as the atmosphere turns more stifling.
I peer over the crowd and watch the security team of four drag a tall, broad-shouldered man into the ring.
He attempts to fight them, and for a moment, I think he might overpower them, until a knife gets placed next to his throat. The back of his body goes taut.
John breaks the deafening silence. His Irish accent booms, "You were told not to bring anyone here."
"I didn't bring him," Sean claims.
"Then how did he get here?"
Sean stays silent.
"You weren't careful," John accuses.
Sean stands taller.
John takes a pocket knife out of his jeans and opens it. He holds it in front of Sean's face. "You do the honors."
"The honors of what?" Sean questions, his expression hardening.
John orders, "If you didn't bring him, and you don't want him here, then get rid of him. Slit his throat."
Sean lifts his beaten body even higher. He roars, "No. I vouch for this man."
A chilling gasp fills the crowd.
John sarcastically chuckles, "You vouch for him?"
"Yeah. I vouch for him," Sean repeats.
Tension mounts.
I hold my breath, unsure what should happen in this case. No one staring in the face of death has ever vouched for anyone. Especially not anyone as important to the Underworld as Sean O'Malley Sr.'s offspring.
Byrne interjects in a stern but respectful voice, "He hit thirteen. He won the bid."
John snaps his head toward him. "He didn't follow directions."
"I did," Sean argues.
John jabs him in the chest. "You were careless."
"He still hit thirteen," Byrne insists.
The crowd takes over, chanting in a deafening tone, "Thirteen! Thirteen! Thirteen!"
Another alarm sounds. This time, it rings for five full seconds.
Crap!
Another hush falls over the crowd. I hand my clutch to my assistant, Cassian. I angrily push through the membership, debating over what route to take.
Someone's going to pay, and it better not be me.
Sacred rules exist in the Underworld. Everyone has a job, and if you fail at your duties, people get hurt. Often they die. So there will be consequences for whoever is responsible for this security breach and possibly for me.
This was my event to manage and control.
The Omni, trust me, I tell myself in order to calm my flipping stomach, but it's a lie. Until you get a seat at the table, your every move is watched and judged.
The crowd parts. I touch my ruby-encrusted red mask over my eyes and nose to ensure it's secure. I lift my chin and saunter through the small path and stop in front of Sean. I grab his chin and remark, "You're the spitting image of him."
A brief flick of emotion erupts on his face. It's gone so fast I barely caught it. He asks, "You knew him?"
I shake my head, replying, "No. It was before our time. But my parents did, and I've seen photos."
"Who are your parents?" he questions.
Amused, I almost break out in a smile, then harshly reprimand, "That's not a question for you to ask."
"What question should I ask?" he fires back.
I stare at him for a moment, taking in every characteristic I can see through the swelling and blood. I offer, "They said you have your father's humor. I guess they were right."
He blurts out, "Some say I do."
I nod. "I suppose you do."
I study him further, then step closer. I curl my finger, lean closer, and whisper in his ear, "Do you think your father's position allows you to not abide by the rules?"
He retreats and, in an apologetic but firm voice, answers, "No. I do not. I was careless coming here. I admit it. I was thinking about making it on time, and I apologize. It will never happen again. But I can assure you, I can vouch for this man."
He vouches.
Again.
What to do.
My heart races faster.
I should kill them both.
He's Sean Sr.'s offspring.
He's the Chosen One.
I ask, "Why do you have so much loyalty for him?"
Sean reaffirms, "I vouch for him."
I step back and glance toward the intruder.
Holy shit.
The back of his body, from afar, doesn't tell the whole story.
He's got the kind of build forged from real labor, not vanity.
His light brown hair is unruly, begging to be tamed.
Dark, steady eyes with arrogance stare back at me, even though he's about to get sliced to pieces.
And his challenging expression can't hide dimples that have no business existing on a jaw so sharp.
My gaze travels down his body, taking in his thick thighs and large bulge against his gray sweatpants. But the kicker lies in his hands.
They're enormous. There's no doubt they can break, lift, hold, ruin.
A small spark flickers in my chest. I'm unsure if it's a desire or a curious interest. There's one thing I know for sure.
A man like this is either a danger, a tool, or a problem masquerading as the opposite of what you want from him.
He doesn't flinch. To my surprise, his expression turns to a predatory stare.
I turn to Sean and blurt out, "Granted, he's sexy in a rough way, but so are others. Why are you vouching for him?"
Jesus. Why did I say that?
He doesn't hesitate, claiming, "I know who he is."
Naive little offspring.
Amused, I raise my brow. "You know who he is?"
"Yes."
"Ah. You're a foolish one."
"Why is that?"
I steal a quick glance at the intruder, already knowing he still has his provocative expression pinned on me, as if he doesn't care about the predicament he's in or the knife against his throat.
Ignoring the pulsing between my thighs, I turn back to Sean, warning, "You think you know people, but I can assure you, you do not."
The flicker reappears.
Adrenaline spikes, but I can't fully hide the sadness laced in my tone. "Ah. I see. I've spoken a truth, and you're unable to deny it."
He stands straighter, asserting, "I can vouch for this man, and I will not kill him. If you must, take my head and let him go."
Gasps fill the crowd.
I peer closer. Who is this man to him that he's so loyal?
I question, "You would rather be killed than kill him?"
Sean affirms, "I would rather you attempt to kill me."
My lips twitch. "Attempt?"
"Do you believe I'd go out without a fight?" he challenges.
He killed thirteen men and earned his spot.
It's his fault this stranger is here.
It's also a security breach.
Sean led him here.
Why do I not know who this intruder is if he's so important that Sean would die for him?
I finally make a decision. I smile and warn, "Those who vouch for the uninvited choose a different path."
Sean blurts out, "I don't understand what that means."
I can't help but take another look at the intruder. He's got the same consuming expression pinned on me. I curse myself for looking at him and turn my attention back to Sean, challenging, "Are you sure you want a different path, Sean O'Malley Jr.?"
He nods and shouts with conviction, "I vouch for this man."
The crowd gasps.
Good choice. It would be a waste to kill a man who looks like this.
It's not just his looks. It's how he holds himself up in the line of fire.
What am I saying?
The path will now change.
What will the Omni say?
Will I be blamed?
What's done is done.
I snap my fingers toward the stranger.
The men release him and push him toward Sean.
I take my time and give him another once-over. Unable to stop myself, I praise, "At least you vouch for a man who seems to have…" I tilt my head, letting my eyes wander, and continue, "Shall we say, benefits for the ladies?"
Sean reiterates, "I vouch for him."
Who is this man to him?
I step back. "Then he's your responsibility. Go home, Sean O'Malley Jr. Heal. Your bid is secure. But remember, you've selected another path."
I spin toward the crowd and shout, "He will now compete for an initiation with rings."
The crowd erupts, and the pitch oozes down my spine once more. I strut through the membership, toss daggers at the security team, and push through the exit.
My driver, Vito, stands next to the rear door. He opens it. "Ma'am."
I slide inside, not saying anything.
Cassian hands me my clutch and shuts the door. He opens the passenger door and gets in.
I demand, "Who was he?"
Cassian turns. His dark eyes fill with as much anger as I feel. "I don't know."
"It's your job to know, so I know," I seethe, right as Vito slams the driver's door shut.
"I'll find out," Cassian assures.
I hit the button for the divider window and pick up my phone. It rings once.
Kirill's heavy Russian accent fills the line. "Valentina."
"Did you see it?" I ask, my nerves filling with more fire.
"Yes."
I lick my lips, but my mouth is dry. "Why wasn't I given intel on him?"
"I can't answer that," Kirill states.
"You're the king," I remind him.
The line turns silent.
The SUV makes a sharp turn and accelerates. I close my eyes, asking again, "Why wasn't I informed?"
"You know the answer to that," Kirill answers.
I take several deep breaths to calm my insides, but new worries fill me. When I trust my voice, I declare, "It was another test from the Omni."
Kirill stays silent.
I swallow hard. "Did I pass?"
"Are you seated in your SUV heading home?" he questions, but it's not really one.
I release an anxious breath. "Yes."
"There's your answer."
I close my eyes again, leaning my head against the rest, allowing myself to feel the sense of relief for a moment.
Kirill interjects, "The path has now changed."
More anxiety hits me. "I know."
Several moments of deep silence pass.