Syndicate Prince (Syndicate Next Gen #3/Syndicate Mafia #6)

Chapter 1

CALIX

“Your sisters are going to kill you if you're late for Aniyah's birthday.”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm going.” Just after I get these five screws in.

I leaned deeper into the open hood, shoulders tight, fingers working the last stubborn thread into place. The new carburetor sat there like it was daring me to walk away when I was this close.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

My jaw ticked, eyes flicking down to see his boot drumming against the concrete like a metronome set to annoy the hell out of me. That asshole knew what he was doing.

He was going to be my second, so why did it always feel like he was my taskmaster?

Dragging in a breath through my nose, I rolled my neck once. Twice. Then cut him a glare sharp enough to peel paint.

Rack didn’t even flinch. He just stared back with that calm, blank patience that always made me want to throw something just to see if he would flinch.

“Put the daggers away.” One eyebrow arched drastically. “It’s not my fault you need constant management.”

Clicking my tongue, I decided it wasn't worth throwing a fit over. Instead, I dropped my eyes to my wrist. Twenty minutes. That was plenty of time before Aniyah started blowing my phone up like I’d committed a federal crime.

Going back to work, I put in the last screw and leaned back with a satisfying bite. Relief loosened my shoulders before I realized I had to try out this baby. Snatching the part up, I jogged around the front of the car, went under the hood, and slid it into place.

I could feel Mr. Fun Sucker hovering at my shoulder like a goddamn ticking time bomb.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The muscles in my forearm jumped as I tightened the last connection. I shot him a look over my shoulder, silently telling him to fuck off.

The corner of his mouth twitched, almost unreadable, but I saw the twinkle in his eye. Before I could make him regret that, my phone buzzed. Then buzzed again. Again.

With my eyes locked on the engine in front of me, I ignored it. One more adjustment. One more—

A heavy sigh rolled beside my ear. Rack leaned in, holding the phone out to me like he was presenting me with a problem.

“Valentina’s calling.”

I froze, then shrugged, keeping my eyes locked on my grease-smeared knuckles. What did he want me to do with no hands?

Rack narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath before sliding his thumb over the screen and balancing it on top of the battery. The look on his face said, “Deal with her yourself.”

Gritting my teeth, I whispered my retribution under my breath, hoping he knew what was coming. Then I switched the waiting conversation, keeping my voice light and casual. “Hey, babe. What’s going on?”

“Cal!!!” Valentina practically sang my name. “I miss you, my king!”

She was using her cutesy voice on me, and heat crawled up my neck so fast I felt it in my ears. It was ridiculous but kinda cute… in the right light.

Glancing sideways, I noticed Rack was staring straight ahead like he’d turned into a statue. The tapping stopped.

“What are you dooooing?” she asked, laying it on extra thick, so I knew she wanted something.

A laugh puffed out of me before I could stop it.

“Baby,” I grunted, twisting the final screw until it was snug, “I told you.” Moving out from under the hood, I wiped my hands on my shirt, staring down at my completed engine with pride. “Aniyah’s birthday is tonight. I’m gonna be out late.”

A soft, grumpy whine came from her. If she was in front of me, she would be in full pout mode. I could see it clearly now—arms crossed, plump lips pushed out, eyes wide and sad.

I shook my head, smiling despite myself.

My jeans tightened at the thought of turning that frown upside down, and I had to shift my stance like that would somehow fix it.

“But Caaalllll…” Valentina dragged my name out, her voice dipping lower, turning soft and breathy. “I said I miss you.” A pause—just long enough to land hard. “You know what that means. I need you. I need you inside me.”

My grip tightened on the phone. A part of me wanted to toss the wrench, slam the hood, and be at her door in ten minutes.

But family was family. And she knew the rules.

“Oh, baby…” I lifted the phone to my ear and let out a rough sound. “You know I’d come running for you, but I gotta be there tonight. It's boss business.”

A small sniffle crackled through the speaker.

Then another.

My chest tightened like someone had hooked a finger under my ribs and yanked. Staring at the engine bay, the gears in my mind started working. Maybe I can see her after I met up with my sisters. Maybe I can—

Rack stepped into my line of sight, tight lipped and unimpressed. I jerked back so hard I nearly knocked my elbow on the hood. “Shit!”

“What did you say?!” Valentina whined.

Narrowing my gaze on Rack, he looked entirely too satisfied with himself. His eyes flicked to the phone, then back to me. One brow lifted.

You need to go. Now.

I rolled my eyes so hard it almost hurt, raking my fingers through my hair. “Nothing, baby. I just—” I scrambled for anything. “Dropped a… wrench?”

Realizing how stupid that sounded, I scrunched up my face. A wrench? Really? That was the best I could come up with? Ugh.

Valentina gasped dramatically like I’d been shot. “Oh! Are you okay, my Calie? Do you need me to come save you? Steal you away from all that annoying work?”

My fingers tightened around my phone as I tried not to get mad, tried not to care that she had insulted what I was passionate about.

Rack’s boot started back up again.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Glancing down at his foot, then up at his face, I tilted my head and gave him a look. His arms were crossed, eyes fixed on my phone like it had personally offended him. What a little eavesdropper.

“Nah, baby.” I shook it off and turned away, escaping those judgmental eyes. “I’m fine,” I said, but the words came out sharper than I meant, the tone not technically for her.

There was a beat of silence, then her tone became light and sweet as syrup. “Oh! Good! Then you can pick me up around nine for dinner and—”

Fucking hell.

“I gotta stop you right there, baby.” I forced my voice to be steady, firm, leaving no wiggle room for her. “You know I’ve got plans tonight,” I reminded her.

She didn’t answer right away, but I heard it. That tiny exhale. The faint puff of annoyance she probably thought I wouldn’t catch.

“And why can’t I go again?” she fussed.

Behind me, Rack clucked his tongue, making it obvious that he was losing his patience with the whole situation.

He was never a big Valentina fan, but he kept his mouth shut because I said so. She was my girl, and that was fucking that.

She’d earned her place after nine years with me, from high school to now. She’d been there through all of it. The noise, the attention, the girls who smiled too wide and touched too fast, trying to climb their way into the Syndicate through me.

I’d watched them size me up like a ladder, knowing the hunger in their eyes was for something other than me.

Valentina never did that. Not once. That had to count for something, right?

Exhaling through my nose, I kept my eyes on the open hoo, like the machinery could help me stay calm.

“You know what tonight is,” I said. “Just me and my sisters.”

She let out a sharp, wounded whine that scraped straight down my spine. My jaw tightened, and I rolled my eyes, turning my back to the car and dragging in a slow breath through my nose.

Every single time, it turned into this. She was always testing the line, waiting to see if I’d finally choose her over them… but she knew what my answer would be. No one got between me and my family.

“I’m just saying,” she pressed, her voice pitching higher, “this is an excuse to exclude me! They hate me! You know they do!”

Staring at a dark oil stain on the concrete, my teeth ground, making my jaw ache.

Hate was a strong emotion that my family didn’t hand out freely. Tolerance was their default setting, and Val lived squarely there. They put up with her because she was with me, and that was enough.

Well, everyone except Ezra.

Whatever went down their senior year of high school, the one year I wasn't there to police them, had left scars I wasn’t allowed to touch. Every time I tried to circle back, to get answers, Ezra waved it off like smoke. Not important. Focus elsewhere. So I did. Should I have pressed harder?

“That’s bullshit,” Val continued. “You’re the oldest. The heir. You should put your foot down for me. Make them respect me!”

My shoulders sagged, and I leaned against the open hood.

That word—heir—always landed wrong. Like a coat that didn’t fit no matter how many times people tried to drape it over me.

I scrubbed a hand over my face, already feeling the headache blooming in my frontal lobe.

Ezra lived for that role, second born or not.

The plans, the pressure, the future of the Syndicate mapped out like a chessboard—that was where she truly thrived.

I just wanted my hands dirty. Wanted to build things.

Fix things. Make something real and solid and mine.

My fingers pressed into my temple, and before I could soften it, the truth slipped out clean and sharp.

“The Syndicate comes first,” I said. “This is my life. Our life. Don’t turn this into a problem because it will never be resolved the way you want it.”

The silence on the other end told me exactly where it landed.

A small, quiet “I understand” followed, and guilt hit hard and fast, settling heavy in my chest. “I’ll go out with Becka and Yasmine tonight,” she added, trying—and failing—to sound fine. “Don’t worry about me.”

Her sad, pitiful words had me groaning inwardly. I didn't want to end the conversation like this. I had to do something, anything to make it better.