Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
DOMINO
K yran Fucking Stirling was all over him.
That little shit didn’t accidentally crash into Remi. He was a lying, manipulative prick. I’d seen him watching him from the moment Remi stepped out of the car, his blue eyes tracking every move like a predator stalking prey.
Juno, oblivious as ever, had no idea someone was coveting what was mine. I’d given that idiot just enough rope for him to hang himself, and it was time for him to dance the hangman’s jig.
Kyran Stirling was going to be a problem.
The Stirlings thought they were untouchable. That, being one of Marlow Heights’ founding families, made them immune to consequences. They’d spent generations carving their name into this city, believing their legacy was law.
Kyran was about to learn the hard way that nothing—no one—got in the way of what I wanted. He’d pay in blood for laying his hands on Remi.
Not one person in this city was above reproach, other than the DeMarcos because we owned them all, something I’d need to remind Stirling Senior once I’d dealt with his eldest son. That legacy they loved so much was hanging in the balance.
Even though I’d left in the early hours to handle a Gallo sighting on our turf, my thoughts had been consumed with Remi. Calloway had slipped through my fingers a week ago—but now, he was right where he belonged. Bound, bleeding, and waiting for me in my playroom.
I’d had eyes on Remi from the moment his alarm went off. There were hidden cameras in every room of my apartment, in my car, and in every space I worked in. I’d even installed a tracker in the phone I’d gifted him, and it drove me insane he hadn’t taken it. I could tap into the live feed at any time and see what he was up to, and once he had his phone on him, I’d be able to hear every word he or others said in his presence. Ghost had come through on every front for me.
It was a special kind of torture. Watching him wake—all sleep-mussed and confused, blinking against the light—had me gripping the hard plastic case of my phone so tightly my knuckles ached, but I relished the pain. He’d thrown back the covers, stretching like a lazy cat, all soft skin and sharp angles in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs.
It took everything in me not to ride straight back to the apartment and fuck him, letting him know once and for all who he belonged to. He had no idea what he’d done to me. No idea the kind of thoughts running through my head. What I wanted. What I’d already claimed as mine. He consumed me.
And now, Stirling thought he could get in my way?
I’d fucking gut him first.
With Remi occupied on his tour, I had unfinished business to attend to. I’d put it off long enough. No more avoiding him. No more excuses.
I might be the face of the DeMarco family, but I still answered to my father. He demanded in-person updates. He wanted strategy meetings. He wanted war. Short-sighted as always. For him, war and bloodshed were the only answers.
The roar of my bike cut through the quiet campus, the deep, guttural growl of the engine reverberating through my chest. Trees blurred at my sides as I pushed the throttle, chasing the rush, the brief moment of control it gave me.
But that control wouldn’t last. Not where I was going.
Taking the exit onto the private road leading to the beating heart of the DeMarco empire, I felt the shift in the air. Here, there were no neon signs. No bustling streets. Just darkened trees arching over the road like silent sentinels, knowing what kind of men passed beneath their branches.
The asphalt stretched long and winding, designed to disorient any outsider stupid enough to make it this far. Few did. Even fewer left.
I pulled up to the blackened iron gates, the DeMarco crest gleaming in the dim light. They didn’t open immediately. Agitation thrummed through my veins. The fuck is this? I ripped my helmet off, and the guards stationed at the entrance went rigid. The lazy smiles they’d been wearing disappeared like they’d just seen a ghost. They feared me more than they feared my father. Smart. Another guard emerged from the security booth, barely sparing a glance at my bike—or me.
“Boss.” He gave a sharp nod before pressing the button to release the heavy locks.
One day, I’d burn this place to the ground. The house that sat at the center of the compound was a fucking monstrosity. Ostentatious and hollow. A monument to a man who thought he was untouchable. Who thought he was king, but it was me who kept him in power.
When I took over, I’d dismantle his empire piece by piece. Not because I wanted it. I never had. But because he did. He spat bullshit about birthright and legacy, acting like we were some kind of royalty. All I wanted was the kill. The hunt. The raw, visceral thrill of power.
I’d never cared about anyone. Never given a shit about their lives. Until now.
Bernard—the only man in this house I had even an ounce of respect for—opened the door as I hit the bottom step. “Your father is in his office, but he’s?—”
A shrill, nasal voice cut through the air, echoing down the hallway. Brielle. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, a snarl curling my lips. Fucking. Brielle.
Berny laid a warm hand on my shoulder, the only person who could touch me and live to see another day.
“Not today,” he murmured. “Her time will come. You have other matters to handle first.” His voice was calm, calculated—a reminder.
Berny always knew more than he should. Always had his ear to the ground. He never spoke of his loyalties, but I’d long suspected they lay with me, not my father.
I exhaled sharply, the rage simmering beneath my skin, begging to be unleashed. “Doesn’t mean I can’t put the fear of God into her.”
A rare, cruel smile ghosted over his lips. “That it doesn’t, sir.”
Brielle’s voice made my blood boil. I moved silently down the hall, footsteps light, muscles coiled tight. My father’s office door was cracked open just enough for me to glimpse inside.
I should’ve expected the filth I’d find. Brielle, draped across his lap like the pathetic, desperate whore she was.
“It’s a hundred grand, Federico,” she purred, running her fingers down his chest. “It won’t be hard to get the will adjusted. Brock’s gotten much better at that kind of thing. And her prognosis is bleak.”
His mother. I went still, rage sharpening into something colder .
My father hummed, considering. “How long?”
“The doctors said months. But,” she cooed, pressing a kiss to his throat, “A prognosis can be wrong. Months are made up of weeks, after all.”
Fucking snake. She thought she was smart. That she could play my father, bend him to her will. She didn’t realize he was playing her.
“What about your nephew?”
I clenched my jaw, the muscles twitching violently.
She sighed, exasperated. “That weird little freak?”
A mistake. My switchblade was in my hand before I even realized it.
“He’s not going to be a problem,” she continued, flicking her fake blonde hair over her shoulder. “I sent him away the moment he arrived. He was staying at the shelter on Clayburn until I paid Tilly off. So fuck knows where he is now.” She snorted. “Probably the streets. He won’t last long out there.”
Wrong. Dead. Fucking . Wrong.
My father smirked. “And the trust fund?”
“Oh, he doesn’t have a clue,” Brielle laughed. “That’s the best part of it. He’ll never know it’s missing.”
“You can’t miss what you never knew existed.” My father gripped her jaw, dragging her in for a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.
Bile burned the back of my throat. I couldn’t take another second. I kicked the door open, storming inside. They jumped apart like guilty fucking teenagers.
My father’s expression was unreadable—eyes black, shuttered, calculating. Brielle, though? She feigned shock, clutching her chest like a damsel in distress. But the second her gaze landed on me? That heat in her eyes—the same look she always gave me, sick and twisted—detonated the short fuse inside me.
In the blink of an eye, my hand was around her throat, pinning her to the wall. My blade kissed her stomach, pressing deep enough to make her breath hitch.
I leaned in, our faces millimeters apart, my voice a growl. “You’re not as smart as you think, Brielle.”
Her pupils blew wide. Her body trembled beneath my grip.
“You touch him,” I murmured, pressing the knife just a little harder, “and I’ll be the last thing you ever see.”
A high, hysterical laugh spilled from her lips, but it was laced with fear. “Y-you wouldn’t harm me.” Her voice wavered. Her eyes darted to my father. Seeking reassurance. Protection. She’d get neither. “Y-your father won’t allow it.”
I smirked. “Won’t he?”
Federico snorted. “You’re easily replaced, Brielle.” He adjusted his tie, barely sparing her a glance. “One whore is much the same as another.” Cold. Emotionless.
Brielle choked on a breath, indignation twisting her already panicked features. “Federico, call off your attack dog,” she rasped.
My fingers tightened around her throat, and I enjoyed the way her pale face started to turn blue. She was pathetic. Weak. The blade in my hand pressed deeper into her side, enough to break the skin and let the faint tang of copper fill the air. My father sat back, watching. Silent. Because he knew I wouldn’t kill her today. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t feed the monster inside me.
“Your days are numbered, Brielle.” I leaned in, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. She was trembling now. I could taste the fear on her skin, sour and electric, and when I licked a slow line up the side of her face, she whimpered. “You won’t see me coming,” I whispered, my voice soft.
A choked noise caught in her throat.
“You’ll wake up one day chained in my playground.” My grip on her throat flexed, savoring the way her pulse fluttered wildly beneath my palm. “Left there for hours… until you’re begging for death.”
She gasped, her nails digging into my wrist in a weak attempt to free herself.
“But before I send you to hell…” I exhaled, my lips ghosting over her jaw. “You’ll watch Brock die at my hand.”
Her entire body seized.
I smiled against her skin. There it was. “Maybe I’ll even let my men have fun with him first,” I mused, dragging my knuckle down her sweat-slicked cheek. “They’ll ruin that tight little virgin ass, break him open until he bleeds, until his screams go hoarse.”
Her breath came in short, wheezing gasps.
“Then I’ll mirror it on the outside,” I murmured.
She tried to speak, but only garbled sounds escaped. “Y-you…s-sick…fuck,” she wheezed.
I grinned. Her pale blue eyes started to roll back, her body sagging, going limp in my hold.
Too far.
I let go.
She hit the floor like the useless sack of shit she was, her chest heaving as she sucked in desperate, ragged breaths.
“Leave,” I snapped.
She scrambled on all fours, clawing at the floor before hauling herself upright with the doorframe. She cast a final, desperate glance at my father. He didn’t move. Didn’t look at her. Didn’t care.
Then she turned to me, eyes burning with barely contained rage. A promise of retribution.
I just smirked and wiggled my fingers in a mock wave.
“Don’t make a mess on your way out.”
When the door slammed shut behind Brielle, the only trace of her left behind was the putrid stench of her floral perfume. Federico’s demeanor shifted. That cold, calculated ire turned on me.
“Sit.” A single word. Clipped. Commanding. He motioned toward the leather chair across from his obscenely large mahogany desk.
He never spoke to me like a son. Never had. I was another soldier to him. Another weapon. He’d broken me as a child and rebuilt me into a machine—one he could aim at a problem and watch it bleed out.
Without a word, I moved.
“Have you found Calloway?”
“Yes,” I answered. “He’ll be tortured for every ounce of information he has on the Gallos’ plans.” I cleared my throat and asked the question that had gnawed at me for years. “Why are the Gallos the only family that ever makes a move on us?”
His eyes narrowed. “I told you—they are the reason your mother is dead,” he said, his voice dropping to a growl. “They killed her and nearly killed you as a child.”
Same words. Same tone. Same script. Repeated verbatim every time. But today, there was something different. A crack in the rehearsed delivery. A heat bled through his words, like the question itself was tiresome.
If he had loved my mother as much as he claimed, why were the Gallos still breathing twenty-five years later? Why hadn’t he rallied the other families to wipe them off the map?
“Enough of that!” His cane slammed against the desk, the sharp crack echoing through the room. “There is much more we need to discuss.”
I held back the smirk that twitched at the corner of my mouth. There it was. The anger. I antagonized him.
“We have a leak,” he continued, his voice dripping with disdain. “I know you took out that gang as a warning, but the books are still off.” He leaned forward, eyes flashing. “If I can’t trust you to do your job…” His upper lip curled. “Then you will never take over the family.”
My fingers dug into the arms of the chair.
“I’ll have one of your cousins brought into the fold instead,” he sneered.
They’d always wanted a bigger role in the family, always been eager to please him. But he’d chosen me. Until now.
“I believed you were the only one capable of carrying the family name into the future,” he said. Then he moved. Slow. Deliberate. He stood, leaning on his cane as he rounded the desk. The sharp steel tip pressed against my chest, right over my heart. “I will not hesitate to end you if you disappoint me.”
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t react. “Yes, sir.”
The words were ice on my tongue, controlled and measured. But inside, I was burning.
Irritation coiled around my ribs, squeezing tighter with every passing second. It consumed me, cell by cell, until the fire dulled into something worse—something colder. I sat there for hours, taking his berating, his threats. Until I felt nothing at all.
Federico needed to watch his back because I was about to snap. And when I did, that feral hunger inside me wouldn’t be aimed at the Gallos. It would be aimed at him.
I couldn’t wait for the day he took his last breath.
I was unfeeling. Detached. I didn’t understand emotions, but I knew weakness. I knew how to exploit it. Federico was vile. He’d treated me as expendable since the day I was old enough to hold a knife.
Kill or be killed.
Trust no one.
Loyalty was a joke. People only followed you out of fear.
If you let them believe they were your friends, your colleagues, they’d stab you in the back without hesitation.
Many had tried.
None had lived to regret it.
My father should have been more careful with the lessons he taught me—because I didn’t fear him. I followed because I was trapped. But a caged animal fights back harder than a free one.
He thought he was the smartest person in the room. Thought he had complete control. But he didn’t see it. I was exactly what he made me. And that meant he was outmatched.
In strength.
In brutality .
In strategy. My mind worked in ways he could never understand.
He laughed when I threatened Brielle. Brushed it off. But he didn’t realize—those words were for him, too.
I held his gaze, watching the pale tinge creep across his face. “You’ll never see me coming,” I vowed and turned to walk away.