Chapter Eight
Collin
“There you are, boy.”
The Dark King was here.
In my home.
The last place I wanted him to be.
It had been a long fucking day. After I left my angel to reunite with Haley, I flew to Boston. Ray wanted me to look into Charles’ disappearance, and I went to the one place the man always crawled back to.
Boston.
Charles’ son, Gabriel, was murdered by the Doctor aka my old pal Kevin a few months ago.
Gabriel wanted to play for the Red Sox, but his talents were needed on the West Coast. However, in the five years I'd been serving the Romano family, I had come to learn that wasn't the only reason why Gabriel wanted to be in Boston.
He had a lover.
The star pitcher of the Red Sox.
After Gabriel’s death and his father’s punishment, Fenway Park was visited frequently by the leader of the West branch. Boston was the last place he was seen, and I went there to investigate, because apparently, I was a fucking cop now.
Ray Romano was in my home, barging in here after the lies he had spilled to me. While he was across the pond mourning his piss-poor excuse of a son, I was here…running everything—almost everything. My guard was up higher than normal, because I needed to keep him away from the girls.
I had to.
When he was recovering from Davenport’s stab wound, he didn’t know about Karina’s presence.
I didn’t want to bring him here in the first place, but I had no other choice.
My plans went up in flames the second Gwen threw her dagger at him.
I kept Romano and Karina on opposite sides of the building, as well as the staff.
Threatening their lives also helped keep my secrets intact.
“Apologies, sir,” I said, closing the office door behind me.
He was sitting in my chair, turned away from me to look out the window.
My eyes scanned the room, noting the three guards roaming throughout the space.
The man to my left raised his hand to touch a painting on the wall.
It was the original, and he was going to touch it with his filthy fingers.
In a flash, one of my blades was sailing through the tense air, landing in the man’s hand.
He screamed in agony as he fell to his knees.
Mr. Romano spun the chair around, his face masked with annoyance as he looked down at his muscle.
It was a smart move not to come here alone; I wasn’t in a cheery mood.
But he could have done a better job at picking protection.
He sighed just before bringing his gun out and shooting the man between the eyes.
He cared so little about his men.
His victim fell forward, blood seeping into the rug. Bella would have to clean that up—maybe I would give her a raise.
“I don’t even know why I bother anymore,” Romano grumbled as he stood, buttoning his suit jacket over his blood red shirt. His dark eyes looked down at the reports on my desk, and my spine stiffened.
Those were the reports he told me to drop days ago.
I stopped listening to what Ray Romano wanted weeks ago.
“Still investigating, I see.”
I swallowed, my jaw aching as I bit down hard, needing to keep up appearances. “Sir—”
He held his hand up as he shifted the papers with the other.
“You killed the boy, yes?”
Aiden Connors. Why was he pressing me about this? More importantly, why was it pissing me off so much?
Yes, he was just a boy, but the ache in my chest that bloomed every single time I heard his name was starting to become a problem.
“Yes.”
“Where is the body?”
“I burned it.”
“Where?”
“St. Louis.”
He made a noise. He was displeased. As far as he knew, he got his revenge.
A son for a son.
Everything was always a test for him. Nothing I did was ever good enough for him. As much as I wanted to—
No. Focus. Stay the course, Collin.
“If he looked anything like his father, he would have been useful,” he drawled.
My spine stiffened.
There was the confirmation I needed.
My gut tightened as my throat dried.
“I thought I told you to drop this, boy.”
I remained silent, my mind telling me to keep my emotions in check.
Not here. Not now.
He tsked. “You are good for nothing. I don’t know why Cal ever brought you on,” he hissed, throwing the papers onto the ground. His dark eyes were wild as he looked at me.
“You killed my men,” he growled. He was referring to his fucking slimy, dick jerking cousins who wanted my Karina.
I kept my composure, shrugging my shoulders. “They weren’t of any help to us.”
He chuckled, smoothing back his hair. “Us.” He shook his head. “Do you honestly think you're a part of this?”
Something inside me snapped. Something dangerous and unhinged. A dark creature crawling out from the depths of my soul, hungry for not just blood…but power. “I have been running your empire while you pissed and moaned over your spineless son,” I spat.
Keep it together!
He charged me then, gripping me by the throat and hauling me to the floor. I let him. I needed to be reminded of my place in his eyes—I needed him to think he still had control over me.
Rein in it, Stevens. Play the part.
My loyalty to Ray Romano had been crumbling for quite some time but twenty seconds ago, any loyalty I had for the evil man standing above me vanished.
Things have been so…complicated since my angel followed me in the rain weeks ago. I should have killed her. I shouldn’t have entertained some old fascination. There were things that needed to be done, and she couldn’t be a part of this.
The back of my skull slammed into the floor, and I welcomed the pain. It was a reminder of everything that I had been through, what I had become, and what I had to do. Ray Romano was older, but he still had the strength of a forty-year-old man. He would never allow himself to be the weaker one.
But the strongest man in the room was choosy with his battles.
This was not a battle I planned on fighting.
I would win the fucking war.
“What the hell did you just say to me, boy?” he hissed.
I needed this. I needed to be put back in line in his eyes.
The Mafia was my safety, my survival. This was the only way.
When Cal Matthews took me in, he promised me wealth and control, but I needed to work for it. That was all I had been doing, and yet I was still an errand boy for Romano. He didn’t make me any fucking promises.
He just used me.
I needed to appear grateful.
“I apologize, sir,” I gritted as that creature inside me growled in disapproval.
I needed this. I needed this. I needed this.
To survive.
20 years ago. Chicago, IL.
“Collin! Collin! Wake up!”
My eyes shot open as something touched my shoulder.
My hand shot out, gripping flesh, and instinct took over.
I brought my attacker underneath me, pinning him down with all my might.
The world focused in around me, and Kevin was staring up at me with his wide green eyes, his face red from lack of oxygen.
I pulled my hands away from his throat.
“Sorry—I—shit. I am so sorry!” My voice cracked from fear.
Kevin was Mr. Matthews' second son, and I was told I wasn’t allowed to talk to him or his older brother, Ian.
If I did, the boss said that he would gut me like a deer and string me up by my toes.
The well-groomed child below me just stared.
He was going to tell on me. This was a set up.
He would tell on me, and then his daddy would kill me.
I had only been here a week.
His father found me crouched down behind a counter in a bakery that happened to be an underground drug supplier.
I didn’t know that. I had a feeling that something bad was going on there, but I didn’t give a shit.
I just wanted some bread. I stopped going back to my foster home a year ago.
The food and bed weren’t worth it, not when the old lady wanted to touch me all the time. I hated it.
What was the point of taking a shower when you were stared at?
Anyways, Mr. Matthews found me and said he could use me…and that was how I ended up here—in his basement, sleeping on the floor. I didn’t have a mattress or a blanket. He said I would have to work for those. He told me I wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone in the house, including his kids.
But this little fucker couldn’t take the hint.
“Are you going to tell your father?” I asked calmly, standing up and stepping away from him.
Kevin and I were around the same age. He was the nice one; his older brother was dick. Ian Matthews was the biggest dick of them all. He was a few years older than me. Mr. Matthews always talked about how good Ian was at baseball.
He didn’t say that to me, but I had ears and Mr. Matthews had a big mouth. Even though I wanted to smirk, I kept my face neutral for the little prince before me. He stood slowly, dusting off the dirt on his clean jeans and Cubs jersey.
He whimpered a bit when he touched his knee.
Shit. Did I actually hurt him?
“Why did you do that?” he questioned, tilting his head. I blinked.
“I thought you were attacking me.”
“Why would I attack you in your sleep?”
Geez, this kid knew nothing. “People do that.”
“Do you do that?”
I shrugged. “I have before.”
“Why?”
“What are you doing down here? I am not supposed to be talking to you,” I snapped.
He flinched and kicked the dirt. He sighed after a moment, looking around the dark, cold basement. This was probably a horrible condition for him. It was a fancy hotel for me.
I hadn’t had a roof over my head in six months. It was nice.
“Aren’t you cold down here?” he asked.
This was a trick. He was testing me. To get me in trouble.
Anger rose inside me, and my mouth moved before I could stop it. “Stop being a little pussy. If you want to kill me, then fucking kill me.”
“You have a potty mouth,” he noted with a raised brow, his eyes filled with an innocence I'd never known.
We stared at each other for a few minutes.
“Father’s boss is coming today. I just came down here to warn you,” he explained, sniffing a bit. “It really is cold down here. How do you sleep?”