The Devil’s Masked Corruption (The Venatti Empire #5)

Prologue

ALTHEA

“I love coming to the fair!” Chloe, my best friend, squeals, bouncing like a teenager as we wade through the crowd of people.

“You say that every year when we come here.” Liam, her boyfriend, scoffs.

“And every year it’s true.”

He rolls his eyes. Chloe stops bouncing.

She swivels around, gripping Liam’s cheeks firmly in one hand, turning his mouth into an over-exaggerated pucker.

“Don’t be a sourpuss,” she says, mimicking the shape of his mouth with her own.

“Spoil my fun today and you won’t have any fun tonight.

” She emphasizes her words with a quick peck on his mouth before releasing him.

Liam’s response is to slap her ass, which only makes Chloe laugh.

“Come on, Liam. It’s tradition. Don’t be a Debbie Downer,” I tease.

“Parking is atrocious. Crowds of sweaty people walking around and bumping into each other in the Texas heat. The smell of vomit mingled with the sweet smell of cotton candy and funnel cakes. Not to mention the sticky substance we’ve walked through causing my shoes to make an annoying squeaky sound,” Liam grumbles.

“I can totally see why people want to come here every year.” His every word dripping with sarcasm as he plasters on the fakest smile I’ve ever seen.

We all laugh at the idiot.

Liam is never happy in a crowd. It’s an occupational habit.

He and his best friend Drew are my undercover detail.

Sent to be my shadows while I attend college down in Texas, away from my family.

It was my father’s stipulation in allowing me to go so far from home.

My stipulation was that my detail must attend college with me and blend in.

I don’t want anyone to know who I am or treat me differently because of it.

Drakos is a common Greek surname, but in certain circles of the world, it carries power and authority.

My father is the head of the Greek mob and the most powerful man in all of Las Vegas.

Anyone who understands our world knows who he is and the power he has.

But on a college campus where there are thousands of students, Drakos is just another name.

I chose Texas for the specific reason that being this far away from home gives less of a chance of being recognized as the daughter of Caspien and Ophelia Drakos.

Liam has grumbled for the last four years about having to do homework and being forced to—in his own words—“act like he gives a shit about college or the frat boy lifestyle.” Unfortunately for him, my father agreed with my stipulation and made both Liam and Drew agree to get their degrees right alongside me.

It was the best way to ensure I was never left unprotected.

Not that I can’t take care of myself, but still, Father worries about me, and I’ll do whatever it takes to have my freedom and keep him happy at the same time.

Which also means I don’t tell him everything.

“Althea, look!” Chloe squeals. “She’s back! The fortune teller is back. Let’s go see her.”

“Why do you sound so shocked?” Drew asks, chuckling. “She’s here every year.”

“Hush, Drew. Come on, Thea. It’s your turn this year.” Chloe grabs my hand, pulling me toward the tent of Madam Boudreaux, the traveling fortune teller from Louisiana.

“Slow down, Chloe. I’m coming. I promise. I wouldn’t bail out on our annual tradition.” She looks back over her shoulder, smiling.

“I know, but last year she was so accurate with my question about finding my true love,” she says as she looks past my shoulder to Liam, her eyes sparkling.

They’ve been dating for almost four years.

Chloe and I hit it off freshman year in chemistry class.

With both of us studying for a degree in forensic science, all the shared classes and studying we did together has made us damn near inseparable.

The more time she and I spent together, the more ways Liam and Drew found to insert themselves into our lives and do their job more efficiently.

Much to Chloe’s disapproval, Drew and I have never dated or crossed the line of friendship.

Mostly because I’m not attracted to him, and he doesn’t want my father to gut him from chin to navel.

Liam, however, took an interest in my best friend right away.

At first, I thought he was using her to keep closer tabs on me, but after I threatened him while holding a knife to his nuts, he told me without wavering that he was in fact in love with her.

She’s the reason he asked for the assignment extension after we graduated three months ago.

It’s also why he moved her into our building with him three weeks ago.

When we get to the tent, it looks the same as it did the last three times we’ve been here. It has dark purple and green cloth walls, and heavy beaded curtains separating the front from the reading area. The heavy scent of sage fills the entire space.

“It helps cleanse the room of any negative or evil spirits,” Madam Boudreaux once told us.

I’m excited to see her again, only this time when we enter the reading area, Madam Boudreaux isn’t the one to greet us.

Two men stand inside. One with his arms crossed over his chest looking suspicious of something, and the other is grinding something in a mortar.

Both are wearing leather cuts, looking nothing like the voodoo priestess who usually works this tent.

“Come on in, ladies. Have a seat. I’ll be right with you,” the man with the mortar says.

The other one nods at us curtly, then taps the other on the shoulder before exiting out of the room.

The patch on the back of his leather cut has a picture of a reaper and reads, Shadowmancers MC Fort Worth, Texas.

I’ve heard of them before, but I’ve never really taken the time to find out who they were.

Mostly because the stories surrounding them seem unrealistic.

Talk of black, soulless eyes found on dead bodies and stories of a man who can change himself into a wolf.

There’s even one about a man whose tattoos come to life. It’s all bullshit if you ask me.

The man who greeted us is a stark contrast to the way Madam Boudreaux usually looks.

She always wears long, colorful robes with her hair wrapped in a colorful turban.

Her beaded necklaces, big gold earrings, gaudy rings on each finger, and makeup are always a little much, but it gives her the look and feel of a true fortune teller.

Her Louisiana accent just makes her feel all the more authentic, making the whole silly experience that much more entertaining.

I don’t believe in black magic or any other for that matter, but Chloe is obsessed with anything supernatural, hence the tradition of coming here every year to get our fortunes told.

This man is tall, with an air of confidence about him.

His face is painted white with a black handprint across his mouth, and his eyes are the clearest crystal blue I’ve ever seen.

He’s wearing a black t-shirt and dark-washed blue jeans with his leather cut.

The only piece besides the makeup that doesn’t fit the biker outfit is the top hat he’s wearing.

It’s black with a kind of paisley pattern embroidered with what appears to be an iridescent thread that shimmers as he moves about.

“Please have a seat,” he says, while motioning toward the chairs in front of the table. Chloe takes the seat to my left, and I sit across from the stranger in the top hat.

He has the same Louisiana accent as Madam Bourdeaux, which leads me to ask, “Are you related to Madam Boudreaux?”

He smiles wide, his chest expands, and his voice is filled with pride. “Yes, ma’am. She’s my grandmother. Mee-Maw couldn’t make it out this time. She’s handling some family business back home. My name’s Oliver, but you can call me Hex.”

“Hex? Are you going to curse us or something?” Chloe asks, her voice slightly shaken.

The corner of my mouth curves, knowing she’s one hundred percent serious about that question.

She carries crystals in her pockets and burns sage in her apartment to ward off any kind of evil shit.

She truly believes it will protect her. So, to be sitting across from someone whose very name implies evil curses , I know it must be freaking her the hell out.

“So, you’re from Louisiana then, too? Are you a real fortune teller or do you just put curses and bad juju on people?

” Chloe asks, staring into the man’s eyes, seemingly as mesmerized by them as I am.

The irises look like dark gray clouds, swirling in the center of his eyes.

It’s creepy yet intriguing all the same.

He tips his hat with a curt nod. “Born and raised. But I live here with my brothers now. Been here a long time,” he says, smiling. “And no, I don’t put curses on everyone.” He leans in conspiratorially, glancing around and whispers, “Only the ones that deserve it.”

Chloe gasps, covering her mouth, completely buying into this guy’s bullshit. Drew and Liam chuckle behind us, clearly enjoying her naivety. They’re somewhere near the entrance, standing guard.

“But enough about me. You ladies came here to get an answer to a very specific question. So, how about we get down to it?” Hex leans back, his eyes studying the both of us intensely.

“I-it’s Althea’s turn this time to go first. She wants to know?—”

“If my brother is still alive,” I cut Chloe off. She turns to face me, her jaw dropping open in shock. I must admit, I’m shocked myself. I didn’t mean to say that. But it’s almost as if something compelled me to do it. To ask the question I’ve never dared to breathe aloud before.