Brutal Surrender (Dark Mafia Omegaverse #2)

1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Vincent Xu

~ Six years ago ~

S itting across the dining table from my uncle in his estate outside of Shanghai, I brace myself before telling him the bad news and disappointing the man I owe my life to, the man who took me and my mother in when my father abandoned us, and who raised me as if I were his own son.

“I don’t want to be the head of the Black Dragon Triad,” I tell him.

Uncle uses his chopsticks to pick up a cut of sliced steak from one of the plates in the center of the table and continues to eat as if I said nothing. I, however, sit holding my bowl in one hand and my chopsticks in the other without moving.

“What are you afraid of?” he asks before pushing more rice into his mouth.

“I’m not afraid,” I reply.

“Lack of confidence?”

At twenty-six, I would be the youngest head dragon ever to take over the triad, but I know I am capable thanks to all that I’ve learned under Uncle Xu’s tutelage.

“We have the votes,” my uncle adds.

“Fang Zhe has been eying the position for over a decade. Why not let him have it?” I return.

“Because you’d be better than him. The income of the triad has increased tenfold thanks to you. You’re the one who pushed us into pharmaceuticals. And these ‘omega blockers’ of yours are going to be the most incredible gold mine. The triad owes you, your abilities, your insight.”

It wasn’t my insight. The credit belongs to Irene. Her cousin ended up sex trafficked because her omega traits made it easy for others to take advantage of her. It was out of a desire to help Irene that I pushed for the development of the omega blockers.

“If Fang Zhe doesn’t get elected, it could cause internal strife,” I say. “I don’t want to see that.”

“Will you be satisfied with serving under Fang? I thought his bombastic nature rubs you the wrong way.”

I contemplate telling Uncle the whole truth: that I went to quit the Black Dragon altogether. I’ve never lied to my uncle before. Not overtly. But I have kept Irene a secret, so that counts as a lie of omission. I never mentioned her to Uncle because I never expected her to become the love of my life. Someone I’d die a hundred deaths for.

For a while I had entertained the idea of marrying Irene while keeping my involvement in the Black Dragon. But a month ago, she found out we were pregnant. That changed everything.

It would have been a lot of work keeping the two disparate parts of my life separate. She has no idea I’m a member of one of the world’s most ruthless triads. If she did, she probably wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me. Or maybe she would. Angel that she is, she’d probably try to save me from my life of crime.

I’m unafraid of hard work, but my interest in the Black Dragon has simply plummeted. I’m not going to be like my father and leave my child to grow up without one.

“I’m just not interested in being head dragon,” I tell Uncle.

He sets his chopsticks down across his bowl while the server refills his teacup. “Since when were you not interested?”

“I’ve thought about it for a while but just recently made up my mind.”

My uncle eyes me carefully before getting a toothpick from a dispenser. “There’s no doubt in my mind that you have a bright future in the Black Dragon. You sure you want to give that up?”

For Irene, I would give up anything in a heartbeat.

Instead, I say, “Uncle, I appreciate all that you’ve done, all the support you’ve provided to get me this far. Please do not doubt the sincerity of my words. The Black Dragon will be successful whether I lead it or not, and I could do without the pressure of being head dragon.”

Uncle says nothing while he picks at his teeth. No longer hungry, I set down my bowl and chopsticks as well.

“Your ascension to head dragon this year would have been the perfect retirement gift for me.”

I look down. “Forgive me. I will repay—”

“No, no, there is nothing to repay. You must do what you feel is right for you.”

His words lift the huge weight off my heart.

“But the election is over a week away, so you have time to reconsider,” he says.

I know I won’t change my mind.

After lunch, I get into the Bentley with my chauffer and bodyguard, Cho, who had managed to swim across the Yalu River in the dead of winter from North Korea into China. China normally deports illegal immigrants back to North Korea, but luckily for Cho, he fell in with the Black Dragon before being found by authorities.

In my lap is a small music box. I open it to release the melody Mo Li Hua, which means Jasmine Flower. The folk song, dating back hundreds of years, is Irene’s favorite.

“Did you know that the Italian composer Puccini liked the song so much, he incorporated it into one of his operas?” I once told Irene.

She was fascinated and had never heard a Western opera before. I promised to take her to one.

I place the music box back into its velvet pouch before stepping out of the car in front of Irene’s apartment building.

But something’s not right.

“My wife and kid are in there!” says a man outside the building.

A friend or relative of his holds him back. “ We don’t know if it’s safe to go inside. Let’s wait for the police to show up first.”

Dread like I’ve never felt before fills me. Rushing into the building, I skip the elevator and take the stairs several steps at a time to the fourth floor, well ahead of Cho.

Irene is a little superstitious and doesn’t feel comfortable living on the fourth floor because the Chinese word for “four,” Sì , is too similar in sound to the word for “death,” Sǐ. My plan was to move her out to a much nicer apartment once I quit the Black Dragon.

The hallway is eerily quiet except for some kid crying in one of the units. The door to her apartment is ajar. Not a good sign.

Stuffing the music box into my jacket pocket, I draw out my Mark 23, flatten myself along the wall, and creep towards the doorway.

At first I don’t hear a sound coming from the unit. But then I hear a gasp. Irene’s gasp.

Without thinking, I shove the door open before Cho can advise better .

I could have been shot then and there, but there’s no one in the apartment except Irene, lying on the floor, riddled with holes and blood.

The gun drops from my hand as I rush over to her. Her eyes are wide open, and her breaths are shallow.

Shit! SHIT!

“Call for an ambulance!” I bark at Cho, who’s making sure there isn’t anyone else in the apartment.

Gathering Irene into my arms, I tell her, “It’s going to be okay. An ambulance is on its way. It’s going to be okay.”

But she doesn’t acknowledge me. Her breaths slow.

“Stay with me!” I exclaim as I suppress the violent trembling in my body.

I look over her body to see where I should stop the bleeding, but it’s everywhere. She has bullet holes in her chest, her arms, her abdomen.

Maybe it’ll be faster if I drive her to the hospital myself ?

“Boss, I called the ambulance, but we should go,” Cho says.

“Fuck you, there’s no way I’m leaving,” I say.

We both catch the sound of sirens in the distance.

“That could be the cops,” Cho says. “If they find you here, you’ll be their first suspect.”

“Fuck off!” I manage to roar even though it feels like iron fists are compressing my lungs.

Doesn’t he get it? I don’t care about the fucking cops. My world is in my arms right now. All that matters to me is here. I could be in Hell and not care.

“I’m sorry, Boss, but I’ve got to.”

I barely recognize the strike to my neck before I black out.

When I wake up, I am in hell.

And I was wrong.

I do care.