FOUR
I t hurts like a bitch.
I’m not sure if my thigh is hurting or my pride, since my ego took the biggest hit in my life. I’m trying to focus on the murderous thoughts that fill my head as the doctor finishes stitching me up.
That motherfucker.
Not only did he stab me, but he stabbed me too deep. The tip of the blade grazed the bone and although it’s nothing too serious, it definitely could’ve been. Did he just want to frighten me, or did he come with murderous intent but backed out at the very last minute?
“Where are you going?” Dylan’s voice reaches my ears as soon as I hop down from the hospital bed.
Pain shoots through my body, the wound aching. My legs give out, and my knees buckle, but Dylan is there to catch me before I get the chance to fall to the floor. My hands are trembling as I try to swallow down the pain.
“Nowhere.” I sigh in defeat.
I know that I’m acting like a child, but the anger overtakes my mind. I’m filled with an inexplicable amount of rage, and I have no outlet to release it. Instead, I’m bound to this hospital bed for another night as the doctors keep an eye on my wound.
“What in the world happened back there?” Dylan’s voice is soft. He’s afraid of me, which isn’t surprising. It is surprising how everyone is treating me like a toddler, and I don’t like it.
“Nothing.”
I can’t tell him that De Santis stabbed me. How can I ever face that humiliation—that embarrassment? Not only did he stab me and leave me to bleed out to death like I’m yesterday’s trash; he also dared to point a blade at my throat and managed to successfully cut it.
I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t scare me. At first, I couldn’t help but laugh at the dead eyes that stared back at me. But the more I provoked him, the darker his eyes became, and it wasn’t a pleasant sight.
It sent chills down my spine.
I feel them even now, goosebumps appearing as a reminder of how terrified I was a while ago; a defeated feeling that left a sour taste in my mouth. I’ve never been this humiliated, and I absolutely despise the feeling.
Dylan stares at me for a moment longer before he sighs, turning his head to look out of the window. He knows what happened. By now, he’s already seen all the footage of De Santis dragging me there and then leaving before I screamed.
“Why are you asking me what happened?”
Dylan’s eyes snap to mine and he halts, brows narrowing. “Because I’m worried about you.”
“Why?”
This marriage is something I didn’t agree to, at first. Father didn’t force me, push me, or try to manipulate me into agreeing to it. However, once I realized how good it would be to have Dylan Sinclaire by my side, it clicked, and I agreed.
But there were never any feelings involved.
Not from me, not from him.
It’s a mutual business transaction.
We have an agreement. Both are free to be with whoever we want to be with until we marry. Afterward, we must remain loyal to each other. I like that; it gives me enough time to go out there and maybe find someone more suitable.
Realistically speaking, there isn’t a man more suitable for me than Dylan.
“Would you believe it if I told you I have genuine feelings for you?”
“I would.” I swallow a knot in my throat. “But I’d advise against that. At least until we marry. Do not let me hear that nonsense again.”
Dylan smiles softly. “You’re too cold. You need to let someone into your heart.”
“Why in the world would I do that?”
“Suffering alone isn’t the answer here, Noelle.”
I pause and stare at him in disbelief. “What exactly are we talking about right now?”
“I know about recent attacks on you. Why aren’t you asking for my help?”
I blink, then laugh. The sound of my laughter fills the room, and Dylan falls dead silent. It takes me a moment to realize that he is being serious.
“Oh, so you weren’t joking?”
“No.”
“And what exactly could you help me with?”
He’s starting to get frustrated, and a vein pops on his forehead. “I might not be… conducting the same business as your family, but I still have good connections. Don’t you think that is helpful?”
“Not in the slightest.” I shake my head. “Don’t you think I tried that? The men who came after me were amateurs. Two of them were homeless. They’re picking random people and sending them after me for the right price. So, no. Your connections really don’t help right now.”
“Do you plan on shouldering the burden of this feud all on your own?”
“Yes.” I don’t hesitate; my mind is clear. “It’s my burden to bear until all of them are six feet underground. And it will happen while I’m the head of the family, I promise that much.”
Dylan’s jaw locks in place, and he closes his eyes. He doesn’t like what he’s hearing, and I can’t help but feel a pinch of annoyance.
“What’s with that expression?” His eyes snap open and dart to me at the sound of my cold voice. “You knew about this long before you sent the proposal. Killing them is the purpose of my life, Dylan. Support me, or get the hell out.”
“This blinding hatred will be your ruin.”
“So be it.” I shrug. “I don’t care.”
“How can you not care about your life? What if you get killed in the process?”
“That won’t happen,” I assure him. “But if it does, it just means I’m not capable enough to survive. That’s all.”
“Does your life truly have so little meaning to you?”
“It’s the opposite, actually.” I sigh and lean into the pillow. “I cherish my life, which is why I’m devoted to ruining the De Santis family. With them out of the picture, I’ll be free to live my life the way I want.”
“It’s useless,” he mutters to himself, but I hear it. “Just rest for now, alright?”
He approaches me and kisses the top of my head. The moment he leaves the room, I’m able to breathe again.
The past few months have been suffocating. Dylan’s always here, as if he isn’t in a high-ranking position with multiple companies to run. How the hell does he have so much free time to spend with me?
He has shown up unannounced at my doorstep on more than one occasion. The last time, I kicked him out and didn’t pick up his calls until he learned his lesson. I value my privacy and solitude, and I won’t allow him to take it away from me.
At first, I didn’t care about my engagement and marriage.
But now, as time passes, I want to find a way out. I’m not an idiot, and I’m not blind. Dylan has feelings for me. But I will never be able to reciprocate them, and he’ll be stuck in a loveless, loyal marriage.
I’m not against it because of the love aspect. I’m against it because I can’t even begin to imagine how overbearing Dylan will become three years down the line. His overprotectiveness is something I never asked for, and I don’t want it.
But it’s already been four years since we got engaged.
Breaking the engagement will cause havoc. Right now, I’m not mentally prepared to deal with the fallout. It’s bound to be messy, dirty, and bad for my father’s business.
With a sigh, I shake my head and decide to think about that later. The wedding date is set for summer of next year, which gives me six months to either get rid of the ring or Dylan.
A knock comes to the door, and I’m caught by surprise.
My father strolls in with a bouquet of orchids in his hands. My brows crease at the sight. I have no particular love for flowers, but my mother has. And her favorite flowers are dahlias and orchids.
“How are you feeling?”
He strolls inside and places the flowers on the bedside table. He kisses my cheek and hugs me for a moment before dragging a chair from the corner of the room and sitting next to the bed.
“I’m fine,” I say. “It stings a bit, but it’s nothing major.”
“I’m here to let you know that I will be killing that motherfucker tomorrow.”
My mouth falls open. “What? Why?”
“He dared to point a blade at my pride.” Tenderly, Father brushes a fallen strand of my hair and pins it behind my ear. “How can I ever let a man like that live?”
My heart flutters, and my cheeks heat up. His voice is menacing, yet tender. I can see in his eyes just how much he’s struggling to keep his anger in check for me. If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t have batted an eyelash.
But for me?
My father would let the world burn.
“Thank you.” I smile. “But there’s no need. I’ll handle little De Santis myself.”
His eyes narrow at me. “Are you sure?”
“You gave me full authority. Don’t back down on your word.”
“If that’s what you wish,” he responds with a clear distaste for my decision. “But if he so much as lands another scratch on you, I will be revoking all of your rights and hunting him down myself.”
If we share anything, it’s the pure hatred toward that damned family.
Over the decades the feud has been happening, we haven’t been on the losing side. But it doesn’t mean we haven’t lost precious family members. This is something I have to do for everyone that has fallen at the hands of a De Santis and for all future generations of the Campbells.
I have to do it for myself.
My hands curl into fists, and my lips thin into a line. I all but shake from anger. All of the times they hurt us, took someone from us, and then mocked us—I’ll return the favor twice as hard.
I won’t stop until I can bathe in their blood. I won’t stop until they’re all dead.
They deserve the wrath I will unleash, and they deserve all the suffering I have planned for them.
Father grabs my hand and carefully unfists it, stroking the back of it.
“Getting angry is useless, Noelle.” His stern voice eases me. “You need to have both of your eyes open at all times. Don’t allow anger to blind you because it will be your downfall. You’re smart, so I have no doubt you’ll take their heads.”
“I understand.” I respond with a weak voice. “You don’t need to worry.”
“As much as I hate to say this,” he says, a clear distaste lacing his words, “we have more pressing matters.”
I raise a brow in curiosity.
“A couple of our clients have called. Recently, someone’s been trying to bring them to the other side.”
“I’m not following.”
“As in, another family of assassins has appeared.”
My brows shoot up in bewilderment. “On our turf? With the De Santis and Campbell families running most of New York City? Do they have a death wish?”
From the stories I’ve heard ever since I was old enough to understand words, I know what our place—my place—in this world is.
My family is in oil. It’s mainly trading, but that’s just a cover-up for the illegal organization that’s been in place for the past four generations.
Five generations ago, two boys were brought to the orphanage as infants. They weren’t blood related, but they grew up as brothers. However, the orphanage was anything but a regular one.
They took in children and turned them into killing machines. As soon as they turned eighteen, they fought a life and death match. Only the two boys survived and overtook the orphanage.
It took them years, but they found the founder of the orphanage and killed him. They took over the legal business the founder owned. After that, they continued raising assassins, though in a different manner. They didn’t force people and gave them choices.
Until a woman appeared.
Both men were in love with her.
And both were prepared to give everything to have her.
In the end, she chose one man, and the other one became enraged. As soon as he caught wind that the two were married and had two children, he slaughtered the woman.
A few years later, he had a family of his own.
The husband of the deceased woman sought revenge.
And that husband was my great-something-grandfather.
Ever since, the two families have been at war with each other. My family took over the oil business, whereas the De Santis chose to continue hotels, arts, and the chain of restaurants across the world.
But deep under that cover, we are nothing but paid assassins.
The connections are still strong, four generations after. We’re not as influential as the mafia, but we do arms dealing, too, and we have a strong client list who call us whenever there’s a contract to kill someone.
And the fact that it’s well-known in the underworld that there are two powerful families in New York and they still dared to step foot on our territory is either ignorant or stupid.
It’s a thin line between the two, and they seem to be jumping that line like a jump rope.
It’s not the first time someone’s tried this, either. It’s a lot of influence, money, and power, so it’s no wonder many people are greedy for it. They don’t understand that two generations ago, my grandfather and De Santis' head at the time reached an agreement.
If someone were to ever try to overtake New York again, the feud would stop for a moment and they would work together to take down the enemy.
“Oh, don’t tell me,” I groan. “You are thinking of invoking the treaty agreement? What is this? A medieval fantasy novel? Let’s just kill both parties and get it over with.”
“You think I want that? If I want to maintain my reputation, I’ll have to. We don’t know who we’re dealing with, their power, and just how far they are willing to go. For the time being, go home, and don’t do anything drastic. You’ve already taken out their heir, don’t provoke them further until this mess is cleaned up.”
By home, he means my penthouse in the city. It’s my safe space, and any assassination attempts were always stopped before they could reach my doorstep. I’ve been back at father’s manor for the holidays and can’t wait until I’ve returned to my little paradise.
I take a deep breath. “Okay. You’ll have a meeting with Henrick De Santis, I assume?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll come with.”
“No.”
“You shot that down pretty quickly,” I mumble. “Let me come. I’ll come either way. I’m just asking nicely.”
He rolls his eyes. “Only if you promise to behave.”
“When have I not behaved?”
He gives me a pointed look and glances at my wounded leg.
“Fine, I get your point.”
Father squints his eyes. “Do you? How the hell did he corner you like that?”
“No idea.” I hum. “It won’t happen again, though.”
“Of course it won’t. I’ll have his head sent flying before he can even think of doing it again.”
I grin in response.
I love my father. He’s always doted on me. He loves all of his children, but, as the troublemaker of the family, I’m the proud cause of his early gray hair. He will never say it, but this isn’t the life he wanted for any of us.
It’s a tradition, and it must continue.
If I can’t ease his mind, at least I’ll make him proud so that he doesn’t worry as much.