Chapter 10
Gaven
Adarkness was stirring within me. Something I'd always known had been there, but until that moment—the moment when Angel's life had hung in the balance—I'd never realized just how deep it ran. I’d raised myself up from nothing—little more than an errand boy to the one who cleaned up the messes of others.
Recovering bodies and wiping a crime scene down to hide the disappearance of yet another enemy of whichever family I was working for at the time.
I’d seen more money in being the actual killer than cleaning up their messes.
It was simple, profitable work. One bullet could garner me half a million.
All I had to do was give up a soul that hardly existed in the first place, and my lack of background made it all too easy.
There were no parents or siblings—no connections beyond the foster system and juvenile detention hall I’d been raised in.
Killing became my business, and I was damn good at it.
I’d never actually considered it evil. Just a job.
I’d made my fortune on death and destruction and had nothing to risk. Nothing that could be taken. Not until now. In the split second when I thought my prize was about to be ripped away from me, a crashing wave of rage hit me.
Her wide eyes. The air of innocence that radiated from her. Her very fucking existence was mine. And to think that someone had plotted to take it away from me...
Anger was not a worthy description of my emotions. Untamable. Dangerous. Ready to commit the vilest of acts merely to ensure that what was mine remained alive and within my grasp. Those were closer to the truth, though even they struggled to convey the rage inside.
I inhaled and lifted my gaze to meet Raffaello's as he sat across from me in that giant wing-backed chair of his. He wants a protector for his daughter? I thought. No problem.
"Then let me protect her," I said. "Move up the date."
Raff's face went slack with shock. "What?
" he sputtered, shaking his head as he glanced from me to the door and back again.
I knew why. Because somewhere on the other side of that door, my future was being taken care of.
The Price Family's private doctor was treating her, but soon, no one would have the right to touch or even look at her without my permission.
Raff shook his head again. "It's already happening quickly," he continued, his tone placating.
"We've got everything set up and scheduled for a month out. "
"Move it up," I ordered. “To the end of next week.”
"The end of next week?" he repeated. "Are you insane? Do you even realize how expensive that will be? It'd be better if we simply held Angel here at the estate for the time being. She'll be safe under constant guard—"
"Not safe enough," I snapped, cutting him off. "I want her to be my wife, Raff. Now. Fuck the money. I'll pay for it." It wasn't like I didn't have the fucking money.
The unease of the other men in the room filtered toward me.
As mercenaries and mafia men themselves, they likely felt the shift in power.
Raffaello wouldn't have survived this long in such a bloody criminal world without strength and money, but there was a reason he'd chosen me for this proposal, and I was determined to exceed those expectations no matter the price.
I was just as powerful. No, I didn't have the background of a respected and feared mafia family to back me without conditions, but I had the next best thing—the connections to one. More than that, I had connections to multiple people of similar backgrounds. A laundry list a mile long of favors they owed from things I’d done to earn them over the years.
And when I would come calling, they would act.
The power of one family was great, but the power over many was even better.
"You're sure about this?" Raffaello asked, eyeing me with quiet scrutiny.
"Yes," I answered without hesitation.
Raff released a breath and nodded. "Fine then, we'll move it up."
"Good." Now that we had that out of the way, we could move on to another important matter. "Tell me about the motorcyclist."
He snapped his fingers, and one of his men stepped forward, producing a folder and handing it to him. Raff flipped it open and began to speak. "The man we traced using the license to the bike lives several states over—he's not involved. The bike was reported stolen last week."
I wasn’t surprised. No one who went after the daughter of Raffaello Price was stupid enough to use a bike registered in their own name. "What else?" I prodded.
The man hovering at Raff's back flicked his eyes up to me once.
By the pinch of his mouth and the cut of his gaze as he glared at me, he wasn't happy with my tone.
Tilting my head back against my seat, I stared at the man for a long moment.
I hadn't yet been given the opportunity to say something to the guards that had been with Angel and me when she'd been attacked. It was something I knew I shouldn’t do in front of Raffaello since he might object, but it was something I would ensure happened. They needed to understand just where they’d fucked up and just what I would do to them if they fucked up again.
The sooner they got that, the sooner I could lessen the risk to Angel.
“We’re tracking the true culprit,” Raff said, his voice hardening as he snapped the folder shut. “We’ll have the bastard soon.”
“Good,” I said. “As soon as you have him, let me know.” I pushed to my feet, and the man at Raff’s back tracked my movements with his gaze, narrowing his eyes on me. I smirked.
“Where are you going now?” Raff asked.
“To deal with a little problem.” Though my tone was light, I could tell by Raff’s thinning lips that he understood what problem I was talking about.
I moved around the chair and eyed the men in the room. Each one stared back, but only two were blatantly displeased with my presence. Displeased for now, at least, I considered thoughtfully. By the time I’m through, though, I’m sure they’ll all be more than simply displeased.
“What happened out there today?” I demanded.
No one responded. Heads moved down. Eyes sought the floor.
Not a single one of them opened their fucking mouths.
It would seem I wasn’t being forceful enough.
I moved towards the center of the room and slowly turned in a circle.
“Perhaps I wasn’t loud enough,” I stated, raising my voice.
“I believe I asked what the fuck. Happened. Today?”
“We were ambushed by an attacker on a bike,” one of them finally answered. His tone was sharp and monotone.
“Ambushed,” I repeated, approaching the speaker and stepping closer.
His head lifted and his eyes met something behind me.
He refused to look directly into my face.
Smart man. He assumed if he did, I’d finally lose my temper.
He was right. I was very close to it already.
“Tell me something,” I said. “Would you ever be ambushed like that or let your charge get so far away from you if it had been Raffaello Price, himself?”
The tension in the room racketed up another notch. “Of course not, sir,” the man in front of me replied.
“Of course not,” I repeated the man’s words, nodding. “Then that means today was more than just an ambush.” My tone lowered. The rising tide of my anger moved through me. Calmly, I turned from the man and scanned the room.
“Today was the day that you almost let the next Mistress of the Price Empire die.” Several of them stiffened at my words, and even though they were far better trained than to move, I could sense the unease that swept through them.
“Evangeline Price—your charge,” I reminded them, “nearly died today because of your incompetence.” The more I spoke, the deeper my words came out.
I strode down the line of men, feeling my blood twist and turn in my veins.
As if it was alive, curdling beneath my flesh at the very idea of something that we owned being taken from us against our will.
Never. I thought harshly. I stopped before the head guard and before he could say anything, my arm snapped out, my hand wrapping around his throat. Raff watched with a keen gaze, not saying a word.
“It won’t happen again,” the man wheezed in my grip. I squeezed tighter, feeling my rage bubble upward.
“No,” I agreed. “It certainly won’t.”
With my free hand, I reached beneath my jacket and withdrew my gun, flicking off the safety before I settled the barrel beneath his chin. The guard’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared as he realized how serious I was.
“As of right now, Evangeline Price is more precious to you than your own fucking family, do you understand?” My words were clear. Succinct.
The guard in my grip nodded sharply, his breath disappearing as I tightened my grip. I spun my gaze down the line and the rest nodded as well.
“Evangeline Price is more than your charge,” I continued. “She’s your future queen.” I released the man in my grip and turned slowly to meet the other guard’s gaze. The man bowed his head, coughing and wheezing for breath.
“She is going to be my wife,” I murmured, moving with silent steps away from the guard. “And she will carry the next Price Heir.”
Raff watched me, his eyes cool and dissatisfied.
Even now, I could tell he wanted to step.
His fists clenched at his sides. After so many years of being in charge, it was hard for him to let me take control, but it was better now since I would soon be the head of the house.
It was already rare enough for a mafia head to retire in a way that didn’t end at the wrong end of a bullet.
He knew that as well as I did. It was why he was letting go—he had to or this would never work.