PROLOGUE

TWENTY TWO YEARS BEFORE

THANE

Pop, pop, pop. Shots ring out at my ninth birthday party at Pizza Games and Racing. My mother lands on me, pulling two of my younger brothers under her as she propels us across the floor behind a short wall. “Stay down.”

My father yells from across the venue. “Agatha?”

“I’m fine. I’ve got Thane, Saxon, and Roric.”

“I’m sending Cynric and Wystan to you. Get out the back. Our SUV is waiting.”

My mother pulls on my shirt and maneuvers us up enough to scoot around the wall she used to protect us. Cynric and Wystan come around the other side and lead us out the back door.

Cynric, my oldest brother, is a mini-me of my father. He barks at the driver to get ready to go as he opens the back door so we can all pile in. We look like one of the circus cars with too many clowns. Cynric yells. “Go!”

The driver turns down the left alley away from the party place as my mind wanders back to my father. He starts to make a right to head back home, and Cynric barks. “No. Go left. We’ll take the long route and give Papa a chance to get home before us.”

The driver nods. Isn’t it weird that he’s taking direction from a twelve-year-old kid?

My mother is on the phone with our estate security. “We’re coming in the back way in about twenty minutes. I have the boys.” She ends the call and exhales a cleansing breath. Her smile lightens the tension in the vehicle. “Sorry about your party.”

I shrug. “It’s okay.”

She ruffles my hair and readjusts on the seat, holding my youngest brothers, Saxon and Roric, in her lap. Saxon is two and Roric is five. Wystan is two years younger than me, making him seven. My mother puts her hand on my shoulder. “Considering we didn’t get to eat the pizza, how about we make our own pizzas for dinner?”

“Okay.” I don’t really care. I shouldn’t be surprised about what happened. We don’t usually have a shootout at a party, but this isn’t the first time I’ve been thrown into a vehicle for safety at a get-together.

We pull into the back of the estate, passing four of my father’s enforcers, and come to a stop at the nearest part of the house. My father charges for the vehicle, scanning our faces, before he pulls my mother into his arms. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Mikhail.” She sets down Saxon to run to our uncle, standing next to the door. She waves at Uncle Daniel, her stepbrother who is our father’s right-hand man and most dangerous enforcer. Leaning in, she asks Papa. “Who was it?”

“The Petrovs.”

“Seriously.” My mother scoffs as she walks arm and arm with my father. “What the hell is Ivan thinking?”

My father shrugs. “Apparently, he thought he could execute us and move in on our territory. He and his family will be dead by morning.”

“Stupid man.” Sadness covers my mother’s regal face.

“Once I’m sure you’re all settled, I’ll be heading out to kill my old friend.”

Papa holds my mother against him as they walk. I double take while they stroll ahead of me. My father, the devil, Pakhan to the Bravikov Bratva, looks like a smitten school boy, and we all seem like this normal happy family. Ha. The jokes on me.