Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 30094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Chelle’s face scrunches. “She said that Sebastian has been teaching his peers how to skin a man alive,” she says, her face turning an unfortunate shade of green.
“Oh,” I say, trying to laugh it off like it’s nothing, but I know damn well that was Marcus’ early morning lesson over the weekend, something Sebastian listened to with eager ears. After all, he’s the future of the DeAngelis line, the next head of the most powerful mafia family in the world. The kid needs to learn these important lessons, and I’ll be damned if he takes over and isn’t strong enough. He needs to learn how to survive in this world because one day, we might not be here to protect him. “It must be all those silly movies he’s been watching. But thanks, I’ll be sure to schedule a meeting.”
And with that, we march our way out of our home, meeting Levi and Sebastian at the door, more than ready to make this day our bitch.
2
Reaching our secure warehouse, I get out of Roman’s jet-black Escalade and quickly scan our surroundings. There’s a bite in the air, the chilly morning breeze brushing across my face as I take Marcus’ hand and stride through the opening of the warehouse.
It’s like Fort Knox with every security measure imaginable put in place. We have armed guards stationed at every corner and not a single blind spot or vulnerability. I don’t see our snipers, but I know they’re there, just as they should be. Yet, even with all of that, I can’t help but glance around, checking for myself—something the boys have drilled into me, even more so now that we have Sebastian to worry about.
The heavy metal doors of the warehouse close behind us, and we step through to the next security clearance where each of our fingerprints need to be scanned before stepping up to the door for a retinal scan. Personally, I think this is taking it a step too far, but Roman insisted, and when Roman opens his mouth, he generally gets what he wants, a trait I find myself ridiculously attracted to, even after all of these years. Watching grown men scurry around and fear him is the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever seen, and more often than not, it has me jumping his bones like a wild animal.
Entering the main floor of the warehouse, we find Mick, the head of our security, already waiting, and from the look in his eyes, he hasn’t got good news.
“What have you got?” Roman questions. Mick immediately turns and walks with us to the control room. I can’t help but notice the difference in Roman. Outside of this warehouse, he’s the cool and collected man I’m so desperately in love with. When he’s the father of my son, he’s patient, kind, and gentle . . . though he’s certainly controlling and fierce when he needs to be, especially when throwing me around our bedroom. But inside these walls, an air comes over him, and in an instant, he becomes the lethal head of the DeAngelis mafia, the terrifying man the rest of the world so vigorously fears.
“The Dragoni family infiltrated our borders and have been poaching our sources,” he says, stepping through to the control room and holding the door open for us. Roman walks through first and as I step through after him, Mick meets my eyes and gives a polite nod before shifting his gaze to Marcus behind me.
Once we’re all inside, Mick pulls the door closed behind us, sealing us off from the factory workers outside this door. “How can you be sure?” Marcus questions.
Mick takes a seat at his computer and brings up surveillance footage of a club within the city limits—one of our clubs—and we watch as a black SUV rolls to a stop in the side alley. The nephews of Surgei Dragoni, his two favored henchmen, step out of the SUV and put a bullet in each of the club’s backdoor security guards before forcing their way inside our club.
“Fuck,” Roman says, letting out a heavy breath. “I know they were breaching our borders, but this close in the city? That’s twenty minutes from my home. From Shayne and my son.”
“Yes,” Mick says, a grim expression on his face. “They’re growing stronger. Bolder. We’ve been watching them for months, keeping tabs. And at first, they were testing the waters and the loyalty of our men, but this is the closest they’ve dared come.”
The screen changes to surveillance within the club, and I watch as the Dragoni nephews force their way through the doors and straight to our dealers as though they knew exactly where to look for them. Our dealers barely stood a chance. One minute they were selling to eager customers and the next, a sharp blade draws across the base of their throats.