Prologue #2
Hex’s eyes narrow, the clouds within them growing larger, fiercer.
My eyes are locked on his, as if I’m being held in place by an invisible tether.
He gently pulls my left hand toward him, palm up, then takes whatever concoction he was making in the mortar and begins grinding it again.
Smoke fills the tent, creating a dense fog.
Then Hex spreads the concoction over my palm.
He mumbles something, words whispered in a language I don’t understand, never breaking eye contact.
The scent of fresh-cut grass and jasmine fills the room along with the sound of chirping birds and Annanias’s laughter. My pulse begins to pick up. My eyes fill with tears.
It’s been so long since I’ve heard his laughter.
Pain slices through my chest. The kind only a twin could understand.
I may not believe in magic, but I do believe in the bond between twins.
I can feel my brother’s presence. I know when he’s hurting and when he’s in trouble—and for years while everyone else has mourned him, I’ve never lost that feeling of being connected.
The bond was never severed, forcing me not to lose hope that one day I might find him again and make our family whole once more.
Several minutes pass, or maybe it’s more, when the smoke finally clears. Hex places his other hand over the top of mine, sealing the concoction between our palms. His eyes begin to clear, and he speaks to me.
“Death in human form is coming to meet you. Do not fear him—but embrace him. He will lead you to the truth. He holds the key to your past and the ring to your future. Trust him to protect you, even against his own instincts. Remember this. Death doesn’t know love, only pain. But you will give him both.”
My hand hitting the table snaps me out of whatever the hell that was. My eyes blink several times as the haziness lifts. Chloe is staring at me, her face full of confusion as she asks, “What the hell just happened?”
“I’m not sure.” Because I’m not.
“Are you going to answer her question? Because if not, you’re not getting paid,” Chloe snaps at Hex.
My attention bounces between Chloe and Hex.
Did she not just see all of that?
“He gave me my answer,” I tell her. “Sort of.”
Hex smirks, leaning back in his chair, his head tilted as he rubs his chin with his finger and thumb, amusement dancing in his crystalline eyes. “I’m curious to see this play out,” he says.
“How what plays out? What the hell does he mean, Thea?” she argues. “All you did was grab her hand and smear some smelly shit on it. But you never said anything.”
My head snaps to hers. “Yes, he did,” I argue. “He said a lot of things. I’m not sure I understand them all, but I’m sure I’ll figure it out.”
Hex is smiling widely now. “Only the one who is meant to can hear the spirits speak.”
Chloe throws her arms up in dramatic fashion and shouts, “What the fuck does that mean?”
Hex leans over and not so quietly whispers, “It means it’s none of your damn business. It’s for Althea to figure out. Now, who’s got my money?”
Chloe stomps out, pulling Liam out with her. Drew steps out but sticks close to the door while I grab twenty-five dollars out of my purse and hand it to Hex. When our hands touch again, he says very firmly, “Trust your instincts, sweetheart. Your brother is very much alive.”
ENZO
“Tell me why we’re doing this again? You hate the fair. I hate the fair. So, why couldn’t we just send a couple of men to go with the girls?” My cousin Mauro complains for the tenth fucking time. If he doesn’t stop bitching, I may have to cut his tongue out of his head.
“Because your sisters and mine wanted to come,” I explain, fighting like hell to hold on to my patience.
I understand his complaint. I hate the fucking fair.
I’ve always hated it, but it was the first place I took Giselle after our parents died and one of the few happy memories we have as children.
It has since become an annual tradition for us to come to the fair together.
She loves everything about it, while I go through the motions in order to keep her happy.
If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t give two shits, but for Giselle I will endure almost anything to make her smile.
Our mother was murdered at the hands of our father.
I then killed the son of a bitch without remorse.
Unfortunately, Giselle saw most of it unfold before her eyes.
She was only six at the time. I was thirteen, but my job had always been to protect my mother and sister at all costs.
It’s what my grandfather instilled in all of us boys.
We protect our women and children always. They are the lifeblood of the family.
It took weeks after their funerals to get Giselle to even speak again, let alone smile.
The first time we all came to the state fair as a group, nearly a year later, I saw Giselle smile a real, genuine smile.
She was excited about all the rides and the animals.
She drug me with her to every single one, squealing and giggling as we rode them all.
It was on that day I vowed to take her every year—and I have kept my vow.
“Just because they want to do something stupid doesn’t mean we have to go along with it,” Mauro whines. “We pay people to follow us around everywhere. How is this any different?”
“Because it’s Giselle, and because I promised. End of.” Mauro’s shoulders droop, and he huffs but he accepts my reasons.
“Fine. But you’re buying the beer, fucker.” He nudges my shoulder. I don’t flinch or react to his comment. I don’t give a shit about paying for him to get drunk on stale-ass beer for the night. All that matters is the girls have fun.
The twins, Santo and Angelo, are already scouting the place for women, having completely forgotten about their sisters and mine. I don’t blame them. They’re young, and everyone knows they don’t have to be as on guard when I’m around.
It’s my job. It’s what I do. I assess threats and take them down. I’m the enforcer for the Venatti family. I possess an insatiable need to delve out pain, which makes me the perfect man for the job. I protect the family. Whatever the cost.
When it comes to Giselle, my level of protectiveness reaches an all-time high. She’s all I have left of our mother. The only bright spot in my world colored with blacks and grays. They’re the only two people I have ever truly felt anything for.
“Ooh, Enzo. Come on. The fortune teller is back again. Let’s go see her!” Giselle spins around, grabbing my wrist to pull me along.
“You don’t believe in such garbage, do you, Ellie?” I tease.
Giselle smiles. “Are you calling Oliver’s grandmother a fake ?” Her hand slaps her chest as she lets out a loud, shock-filled gasp. “That’s quite rude of you, big brother. You should probably take it back before she curses you for your disbelief.”
I can’t help but smile back at her. It’s such a relief to see her smiling and laughing again.
Giselle went away to college two years ago, studying to be a nurse.
I didn’t like the idea of her being hours away from me, but she didn’t want to be close to the family business.
Giselle loves our family, but she fears the violence it can often bring.
After our parents’ deaths, I promised to keep her as far away from the business side of things as possible.
When she mentioned wanting to become a nurse, I made all the arrangements for her to have an apartment, a car, and paid for her tuition.
Of course, she has guards around the clock, all of whom stay out of sight and report back to me each night.
Having the last name Venatti puts a huge target on every one of our backs, and some assholes—like my father—ignore the rules of war.
They don’t believe women and children should be off limits but used as weapons against us.
Giselle is and will always be my only weakness.
I’ll never let anyone get close enough to her to use her against me.
She drags me into the tent with her, then sits at the table waiting for her turn.
“I’ll be right out!” a familiar voice calls out from behind the tent.
“Sit down, Enzo.” Giselle taps the chair beside her. “Please.”
I do as she asks and drop into the seat beside her, taking in the different masks and art that fill the space.
It all speaks to Madam Boudreaux’s heritage and where she comes from.
The woman is all about rituals and incantations.
I can’t say I believe in such things, but after some of the shit I’ve seen over the years, I can’t honestly say I don’t believe just a little.
The back curtain opens and in walks Hex, an old friend from the Shadowmancers MC in Fort Worth. They’ve done some business with my cousins and me in the past. Weird, unexplainable shit happens when these guys are involved, but I’ve learned not to ask questions.
It’s part of the arrangement for our friendship, actually. They don’t ask about our family business, and we don’t ask about their club. If either one needs the other, we just show up and handle shit— no questions . It’s a win-win for both sides.
“Hey Enzo,” Hex calls out, reaching to shake my hand.
He has a mortar and pestle in his other hand.
His face paint and top hat are a little off-putting, but I’ve gotten used to Hex being weird, so it’s nothing new.
“Giselle. How are you, sweetheart? How’s school?
” He releases my hand and leans over to kiss my sister on the top of the head.
She wipes her head and wrinkles her nose, probably making sure he didn’t leave any paint in her hair. “Actually, we’re here for a reading. Is your grandmother here?” she asks hopefully.
“No. She had to stay in Louisiana to handle a family situation. I’m filling in this year while the rest of the guys run security on the fairgrounds,” Hex replies.
“I didn’t know your motorcycle club did security work?” Giselle is curious by nature, but judging by the look on Hex’s face, he’s not talking about the club working the grounds as volunteers. I watch him with curiosity of my own as he fields my sister’s questions.
“It’s more like we’re helping the locals. You know there’s a lot of people in the crowds and only so many cops. They don’t always see what we do.”
They’re hunting for someone.
“Oh, well, that’s nice of you,” Giselle says, smiling. Her naivete is refreshing and somewhat alarming. It’s also why she’s never left without a guard.
“Anything we can help with?” I offer, knowing Hex won’t want to discuss business in front of my sister, but I still want to put the offer out there. Hex shakes his head, turning back to Giselle.
“So, sweetheart, what can I do for you today?”
“Actually Hex, I want you to do a reading for Enzo,” she says slyly.
“ What ?”
Hex smiles. “You brought your brother here for a reading? Without his consent? I’m starting to think you might actually share some of your brother’s sinisterness after all.”
My head snaps in his direction as I glare at the side of his head. The fucker only laughs. “We came here for you, Ellie, not me. I don’t have any interest in?—”
“Please, Enzo,” she begs. “It’ll be fun. You’ll see. Just do it this once, for me.” Her big brown eyes turn round as saucers. Her bottom lip juts out in a pout, and I’m fucking screwed.
“Why is this so important to you?” I ask because I honestly have no fucking clue why anyone would care to have someone give them a bullshit future to look forward to that will never come to pass.
“Come on, Enzo. It’s just in good fun,” she continues to beg. “I’ll even ask the question, so you don’t have to do anything but sit there and let Oliver read your palm. It doesn’t hurt. You’ve watched Madam Boudreaux read my palm for years. Please, Zo, please?”
I know she’s not going to give up when she uses the childhood nickname that only she is allowed to call me. “Fuck it. Fine.”
Hex rubs his hands together, smiling giddily. “I’ll get my things.” He turns back to the table in the corner and adds a few things to his mortar, then begins mixing and crushing whatever it was. It smells earthy, like rosemary and something else I can’t quite place.
Hex takes a seat at the table across from me, placing the mortar in front of him. “I need your left hand.” My sister flicks her chin, motioning for me to do it. My eyes roll of their own accord, but I do as he says.
“What’s the question, sweetheart?” he asks Giselle.
I turn to see her face. Her cheeks are bright red, and she’s chewing on her bottom lip. She’s nervous. My brow creases. But before I can ask what’s got her on edge, she blurts out her question. “Will Enzo ever find true love?”
I’m so shocked by her question, I hardly notice the smoke filling the room.
When I finally turn back to look at Hex, his eyes have narrowed, and something resembling clouds circle within his eyes. My eyes are locked on his. I couldn’t turn away if I wanted to, and it’s freaking me out a bit. I’m not a man who likes to be out of control in any situation.
Hex pulls my left hand toward him, palm up, then takes whatever the earthy concoction in the mortar is and begins grinding it with his other hand. Hex spreads the concoction over my palm. He mumbles something, words whispered in a language, Creole I think, but I don’t understand.
The scent of jasmine and citrus fills the air. My eyes close as I inhale deeply. It’s subtle, yet potent. I can’t explain it. It stirs something within me. A hunger. Desire .
What the fuck?
Moments later, the smoke finally clears. Hex places his other hand over the top of mine. If I didn’t know this was part of his schtick, I’d punch him in the throat for touching me like that. His eyes begin to clear, and he speaks to me.
“You’ll meet a devil wrapped in a silky red dress. Her pain will feed your pleasure. Her secrets will bleed into yours. Your mother’s words hold all the answers. But remember—if you choose the devil, you must unify your strengths to keep her.”