Ruthless Princess (Mafia Royals) Page 2
Bile rose in my throat as we followed Uncle Chase down the hallway, I knew I would remember each step, the way my heart thumped against my chest as we reached the main living room and looked around.
Everyone was there.
And I do mean everyone.
Aunts, uncles, cousins, and more importantly—the five bosses, Abandonato, Nicolasi, Alfero, Sinacore-Petrov, and our Capo dei Capi, Tex Campisi.
This was no family dinner.
My dad eyed me; my mom wiped a tear from her cheek. I almost asked who died, and then my dad, the strongest man I have ever known—pulled out a gun.
My dad never scared me. Because it was in my blood too, the need to destroy so I could make sure I was still alive. Blood of my blood. Soul of my soul. We were one and the same. Why would I ever be afraid of him? It would be like looking in the mirror and screaming out of terror for myself.
But in that moment, I was afraid.
“Serena,” he rasped. “Come forward.”
My legs took me to his six-foot-two frame. He was wearing a black on black suit; his lip ring flickered under the lights. His blue eyes searched mine. And then he pointed the gun to my forehead and whispered. “Make your choice.”
I almost hurled all over his Armani suit. I could see my mom out of the corner of my eye, silently weeping—hoping I would choose the Family, choose blood, and a life of war. “If you stay, you earn your patron saint when you make your first kill—if you aren’t with us, you are against us, you will turn and walk seven steps, counting each one out loud until there are no more steps to take, and your heart will beat no more.”
Shaking, I stared my dad down and whispered. “Blood in, no out.” Then I very slowly kneeled in front of him and waited as the blood of my father dripped slowly over my head.
Crowning me Queen.
I was his firstborn, after all.
His legacy.
And I would rather chop off my own arm than disappoint him.
He held out his bloodied hand.
I took it and stood.
He flipped my hand over and sliced across my palm. It stung like hell, and he immediately pressed his bloodied palm to mine and said in such a sad voice that I wanted to burst into tears. “I have taken over thirty-seven souls from this earth. You will do that and more for the Family—your soul is no longer yours—it’s ours. Welcome to the Family.” He bent down and kissed each cheek, and then in a shaky voice, whispered, “Next.”
One by one, the cousins went.
Ash was next.
Chase was ruthless, but Chase was notorious for having no moral compass. He didn’t even give Ash the option. Then again, Ash had been doing a lot of killing lately. He was already a made man, so all he had to do was swear fealty to the Family—or at least, so I thought, and then I saw a knife get jabbed somewhere between rib one and two.
“Remember the pain.” Chase gritted his teeth. “Let it burn down to your very soul, and remember that you are in the business of giving death—not life.” He pulled the knife out Ash swayed a bit then nodded.
“Next,” Chase said in a bold voice.
Junior walked up to his dad, Phoenix. If there were ever a person to be petrified of, it would be Phoenix. He didn’t even know the meaning of the word good. He dealt in death and secrets. He kept the five families safe.
And had a history nobody would tell any of the kids about.
But I saw the times my dad flinched when Phoenix talked to my mom. Even when they were laughing, there was an underlying tension.
Phoenix went through the pledge, Junior knelt in front of his father, and when he stood, it wasn’t just his dad that slit his palm and pressed it to his, but mine stepped forward.
Tension swirled around the room.
What the hell?
I gulped as my dad gripped his still bloody dagger and then grabbed Junior’s forearm, digging the tip of the knife into his skin and very slowly creating a bloodied circle.
Junior clenched his teeth in pain as my dad leaned in and pressed his bloodied palm to the fresh wound and with venom in his words spat. “The sins of the father are passed down—break my trust, and I’ll remove this scar from your body and make you wear one around your face.”
I gaped.
“Yes, sir.” Junior didn’t look at me.
He didn’t give us away.
But I knew… the stakes were higher now.
The rest of the ceremony was a blur as Breaker stood in front of his father. Maksim was next, and our bloody oaths continued as the younger kids watched with wide eyes.
Their own mothers not even telling them to turn away.
Because why would they do them such a great disservice of not preparing them for their future?
When it was all over with, everyone cheered, wine was poured, and I went into the bathroom. Asher didn’t even knock, just walked right in, followed by Junior, Maksim, Violet, Izzy, King, and finally Breaker.
We sat on whatever surface we could find.
“One tear,” Junior whispered. “You get one tear, and then we walk back out there and celebrate.”
I nodded, and sure enough, one tear fell. Asher wiped it away from my cheek since he was closest, and then we all stood and stared at one another.
“We won’t fail,” Junior said, voice hoarse. “Because everyone’s lives depend on us now.”
“Us,” Asher repeated.
My heart broke for Breaker as his eyes searched mine. I gave him a reaffirming nod.
And then his small voice piped up. “Blood in.”
“No out,” we said in unison.
Chapter One
Serena
Five Years Later
Being Nixon Abandonato’s oldest daughter had its perks, I mean I should at least get something being the daughter of one of the Cosa Nostra’s most powerful mob bosses. At sixteen, he let me pick out whatever car I wanted, and when I say whatever car, I mean—in the world.
And because I knew that it would piss Junior off and I lived for his constant scowls in my direction… I asked for the new Maserati Gran Tourismo MC, the exact same car he got the year before only better because mine was newer.
Swear every time I drove it, he wanted to purposefully get me into an accident.
This day was no different.
Day one of hell.
Day one of my senior year at Eagle Elite.
Just like it was Junior’s.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. In fact, we had been told repeatedly when we grew up that we could go to college wherever we wanted. Could have whatever life we wanted—as long as we swore our loyalty to the five families of the Cosa Nostra, we’d be good.
And then it happened.
They refused to tell us what it actually was, but I’ll never forget the look on my dad’s face that day as he placed a small white toy horse in the middle of the kitchen table and whispered. “We have to talk.”
A white horse apparently had been sent to every single boss, and with that, a cryptic note that said: You should have killed them all. It was signed MP. Nobody knew who it was from, but the symbolism wasn’t lost on any of us. After all, a white horse never meant surrender to the mafia—it meant war.
And this time, we had no idea who the snitch was, or who wanted us dead, which meant I had to say goodbye to Stanford. I’d only been there a year, and for the first time in my life, I hated the mafia for taking that away from me.
We all transferred to Eagle Elite, the University the five families of Chicago owned—the one place we would be safe.
We had no choice.
The dads, the bosses, whatever you wanted to call them, decided they’d been too easy on us anyway, that we wouldn’t survive in this world if we didn’t know how to rule it.
Part of me wondered if they used that as an excuse, so they didn’t terrify us of what was coming.
Either way, it had been a hard lesson.
I shuddered, recalling that firs
t day.
It was a lesson I never wanted to remember but was forced to relive every single time I saw Junior kiss another girl, every time he watched me flirt with other guys and invite them to drive my car.
I ignored the goosebumps that erupted all over my body when I thought about that day, the day it all went to hell.
The day I was forced to ignore my heart, ignore the blood that pumped through my veins, and recognize that it had never been mine in the first place.
His. My dad’s. The Boss of the Abandonato Family.
I gripped the steering wheel with my red leather gloves and hit the accelerator, wondering what it would feel like to just run right into that tree; my dad would be so pissed, we weren’t allowed to go out that way, it was blood in, no out for the rest of our lives.
The mafia refused to let you die until it said you could.
And I was no different.
I could feel Junior’s car on my ass; I hit my brakes as dirt puffed up around my backfires, he swerved and pulled out to the right so that both our cars were side by side.
I rolled down my window. “Junior, you know texting and driving is a crime punishable by ticket, right?”
He stared me down and then very slowly lifted his hand and showed me a middle finger. “Says the princess who tries to put on lipstick with one hand while stuffing her bra with the other.”
Heat rushed to my face. I would kill him one day.
Unfortunately, today was not that day.
“Cute, Junior, it’s almost like you don’t remember how much you fumbled with these.” I weighed my breasts in my hands. “Then again, if I were you, I would try to forget all those awkward moments too. What was it that one time? Five seconds? What a record!” I slow clapped.
His smile was cruel but so beautiful I ached. Straight white teeth, a small dimple on the right corner, jet black hair and teal eyes. “You’re forgettable. That’s not my fault, is it?”
Maybe I would murder him today. It wasn’t like anyone would blink an eye at me. Then again, he was the heir to the Nicolasi crime family. Ugh, why did he have to be important? And why the hell had I ever allowed him to see me naked on numerous occasions?
“See you in class, princess.” He sped past me.
I followed, slower this time, maybe because I thought this year would be different. This year things would be… normal.
I almost laughed out loud. Right, when has my life ever been normal? I was basically born with blood on my hands. I would die the same way.
At least I had a nice car and unlimited cash. There were worse things in life than being forced to work with your ex-boyfriend and cousins at Eagle Elite.
Oh, it looked like we were just average college students, but everyone, including the faculty, knew the truth, knew who our parents were.
Who ran the world?
The five families.
The Chicago mafia.
Crime syndicate.
Whatever you wanted to call it.
We were it.
It… owned us.
Talk about it… and you might just get killed.
Brag about it, you’re already dead.
A freshman last year was found hanging outside his dorm room with the word “rat” spray-painted across his chest.
The faculty said it was a suicide and told his parents he was depressed—but we all knew the truth.
It’s not like I pushed him anyway.
Ash always did the dirty work, not me.
Junior spray painted it across the kid’s chest.
Breaker pushed.
And I took a picture for my social media.
Because that kid could have gotten our family killed, or worse, in trouble, and blood protects blood. And he was bragging about having intel on our families. It didn’t matter that he had nothing—what mattered was that we still had enemies, and I would do everything to protect my blood.
We had to warn people that this wasn’t some sort of social experiment. This wasn’t a reality show. And this wasn’t a TikTok you could just go viral with.
This was our lives. And the fact that we let anyone live by our sides meant that they had to follow the rules… and follow us.
The idea was this: make sure that the world around the University understood how dangerous you were—as individuals and as a group—and then make sure that they followed our rules, which created fear. And that fear seeped into the students’ friends, families, to the most influential people in the known world, because—newsflash—those were the only people allowed in the University. This fear then trickled quite joyfully down the line until everyone in power understood that the five families of Chicago were here to stay, and there wasn’t jack shit anyone could do about it.
I used to hate that it would eventually put me in the spotlight, eventually force me to put on a mask that said fuck the world—I ran it, but now… now it just felt like putting on a fresh coat of lipstick and fluffing my hair.
All in a day’s work.
Who ran the world?
Us.
I pulled into a parking spot next to Junior and waited while Ash’s Tesla pulled up behind me at least four minutes later.
He got out of the car and wrapped an arm around his girlfriend Claire and my cousin Izzy, his twin. Sometimes she rode with me, but she’d told me that her dad put her on spy duty so she was the bad cold they couldn’t get rid of.
It’s not like Izzy would stop them from having all the sex, Claire and Ash went at it like they would die without touching each other. And honestly, I had to bite back the jealousy that at least one of us was happy.
I made a face at the happy couple while Izzy managed to walk toward me, cell in hand, texting one of her many boy toys. She never did anything but flirt, which almost made it worse, especially since all of us knew Maksim held a bit of a candle for her, which she promptly ignored since she didn’t want to die.
“Put that away,” Ash barked at her. “We got shit to do.”
Izzy held up a finger.
Ash looked ready to break it.
Typical Monday.
“Cool nails.” I winked and grabbed a thumb. “I like the red, nice touch.”
She laughed, put her phone away, then glared at her brother, who was already kissing Claire like his life depended on it. I mean, would it kill them to come up for air and stop groping?
“Gross.” She made a face. “Could you guys not do that in public?”
He ignored her like always.
Claimed he was in love.
We were all taking bets on when he got bored because Ash was too good looking and charismatic to just stick to one girl—we knew it, he denied it, it was a thing.
I sniffed the fresh Chicago air. This would be my year, the year I wouldn’t let Junior get under my skin, the year I’d have fun at least half the time while getting groomed by my father the other half.
Most students my age were looking at job prospects while mine was already embedded in my skin—quite literally.
Blood in, no out.
I was the heir to my father’s throne, and I was going to reign supreme over all my silly little subjects, this school included.
Most days it felt like we lived on a different planet, maybe even in a different realm, where mere mortals walked among us and did mundane things like accounting and math—we learned how to cook the books, make murder look like an accident, and spied like we were part of the CIA—like they would even want to catch us, since we had friends in high places, very, very, high places.
“Ash, you’re late and drive like Grandpa Frank.” I finally brought my thoughts back down to earth and checked my gold Rolex. Already my black Gucci glasses were so tight that I felt a headache forming at my temples.
“He’s always late.” Junior hopped out of his car and gave Ash a high five and hug while Claire gave Izzy and me a sweet smile.
I didn’t do sweet.
I was more… salty. There, that sounded better.
And Claire, wel
l, she had mafia blood, but she seemed too pure for this sort of life. Then again, she helped Ash do some serious shit, so she’d at least earned my respect that way and earned her way into our group.
I cracked my neck. “You guys ready?”
“Always.” Ash wrapped an arm around Claire again and let me walk ahead of him. Izzy hung back with them, and Junior flanked to my right. Never had there been such hatred between a king and queen.
I knew Maksim and Breaker were already around; they had earlier classes than us, and frankly, since we were the eldest, we stuck together more while the younger cousins got more freedom. Someone had to rule the free world, and it wasn’t going to be smart-as-shit Maksim who skipped ahead a year and entered into EE with Breaker only to break so many hearts I wondered if he was going to actually contract a sexual disease of some sort.
We let them play.
Because we had work to do.
Fear to build.
Enemies to make.
My stiletto boot hit the cement in perfect cadence to the increased heartbeats around us. The fear, you could almost smell it—I lived for it—it was all I had now that love was gone, now that my heart was obliterated.
I gave my head a shake and kept walking. Along our path, students parted, they stopped talking, they gave us a wide berth, and when we finally made it to the simple white building in the middle of the campus, I felt my hand shake a bit.
Behind us, Ash cursed. He hated this part; we all did.
But it was necessary.
We all turned and glanced at the student body, watching them watch us.
A person would come forward. Someone always did.
Finally, one of the football players stepped forward. I could have predicted that. It was usually an athlete, mainly because they were the only ones who could typically take it.
“Z!” Ash gave the guy a once over. “Damn man, you put on at least twenty pounds over the summer.”
He gave Ash a tentative smile then rocked back on his heels. “I knew it was probably time.” His eyes flickered from Ash to the rest of us. “Maybe with the added muscle, it’ll hurt less.”
“Yeah.” Was it me, or did Ash sound sad? “Maybe.”
Zac took a deep breath, clutching his fists at his sides. “I’m ready.”