Chapter One

Domani

The most fucked-up nights of my life always begin the same way. Mattia Agostino, consigliere to the Valentino family, strolls in, hands in his pockets, leans against the doorframe, and says the same words.

I've got a job for you, Domani.

Once upon a time, I didn't ask many questions. It wasn't what the Valentino family paid me to do. That changed almost two years ago when the Valentino brothers—Rafe, Luca, and Gabriel—decided they were stepping back for a while, and we—Mattia, Diego Butera, Coda Passero, and I—were stepping up as the new faces of the family. It's been a fucking endless headache ever since.

But some things don't change. When Mattia says he has a job for me, I've inevitably got blood on my hands, or I'm getting stitched up by the time the sun rises.

I don't know which tonight has in store for me, but it's bound to be one or the other.

Frankly, it's a pain in my motherfucking ass. It's two in the morning. I could be sleeping right now.

But what's that saying?

Oh yeah. Life's a bitch, and then you die.

I knew what I was signing up for before I ever threw my lot in with Rafe when I was eighteen. I did what I had to do to ensure the man who raised me—my father—paid for his crimes. If my soul is black as a result, it's a small price to pay.

But if I die in Cillian Brennan's compound tonight, I'm going to be pissed about it. Being picked off by the Irish mobster and his family is not the way I want to go out.

I hoist myself over the back wall of his compound anyway, taking care not to rip my goddamn pants all to hell.

The back of his property is mired in shadow, not a single light burning in the rundown mansion. But thanks to the streetlights and the full moon, I see enough. Cars litter the backyard, some on blocks, some in various stages of being stripped. Entire patches of grass are MIA, leaving behind nothing but mudholes.

For a motherfucker worth his weight in gold, Cillian hasn't used a cent of it to restore this place since he set up shop in Chicago. It's a good front if he's trying to look like he isn't worth damn near as much as Rafe, the capo dei capi, I'll give him that. Unfortunately for him, no one who knows him buys it. The Irish mob has deep pockets, and Cillian is growing too powerful in this city.

It's bad for business. But we can't kill him outright. That'd spark a war we don't want. Instead, I'm bugging his fucking house. Cillian is as dirty as they come. He spends as much time fucking over his own people as he does expanding their operations. Once we get what we need, we'll pass it along and let his people handle him for us. The move is beneath us, but it's infinitely better than dragging the city back to the brink of war. We've been there far too often lately.

Granted, I have to make it into and out of this shithole first. But nothing ventured, nothing gained, and all that bullshit.

I push off from the wall, landing on my feet in the backyard. I crouch in the shadows, waiting for several long moments to see if the noise brings anyone out of the house. Nothing moves.

Huh. Interesting.

I check the gun strapped to the small of my back and the other hidden in the holster at my side and then double-check the knife in the sheath at my wrist. I've got another in a sheath at my ankle and another strapped to my thigh.

A motherfucker won't ever catch me unprepared. Been there, done that.

Satisfied that my shit is in order, I slip through the shadows, making my way closer to the house. I stop every few feet to reassess, making sure that no one has stepped out and that no one else is moving through the shadows. It takes all of ten minutes to make it to the back door. It's still dead silent inside and out.

I spot the camera aimed toward the door and quickly decide to find another route into the house. None of the windows downstairs are unlocked, and I can't risk breaking the fucking glass, but there's a window on the second floor around the side of the house that's thrown wide open.

Fuck my life. Looks like I'm climbing.

I wedge myself between a tree and the house, using both to help haul my big ass up toward the window. It doesn't take long to scale the tree, but I don't breathe the entire fucking time, worried that I'm going to place my foot wrong and go crashing down or draw attention from whoever might be in the room upstairs. There's a reason why men my size don't climb trees. When you're six-four and two hundred eighty pounds, climbing a goddamn tree isn't easy.

But I manage to haul myself to the window ledge and peer into the bedroom on the other side. Unlike the outside of the house, the bedroom is steeped in luxury. Feminine furniture and plush rugs fill the room.

The room isn't dark like I thought. The TV is on, but it's cycled back to the screen saver. The light from it washes across the four-poster bed, illuminating the woman sleeping dead center.

I stop breathing as my gaze lands on her.

Long red hair spills in waves across the pillows. Alabaster skin and soft pink lips turn my cock to steel. The covers are pushed back as if she's hot, and one arm is thrown off the side of the bed. Her nipples press against her tight little top. It ends just below her breasts, leaving her round belly exposed. She isn't wearing shorts. Just an innocent pair of pink panties. I see the lips of her pussy through them, and the urge to taste her is powerful.

Every inch of her thick, curvy body is pale and smooth, beckoning me to come closer and take what doesn't belong to me. I ache to do just that. To slip into the bed beside this beautiful little queen and know her man to woman.

I crave her. Her lips. Her breasts. The hard little nipples hiding behind that tiny shirt. The warmth spreading through me like fucking sunshine. I want to bask in it, to claim it for my own.

We've heard rumors for a while that Cillian had a niece hidden away somewhere in the city, but we were never able to confirm. I guess now we know. She's here, right in front of me, glowing like the sun, even in her sleep.

Tempting me, even in repose.

I should shimmy back down the tree and return another night, but I don't. I can't. She compels me toward her, beckoning like a siren. I slip through the window like a shadow, landing on silent feet beside the bed. I crouch at her side, watching.

I tell myself that's all I intend to do. Watch her. But even before I see the rope marks on her wrist, I know I'm a liar. I know I don't intend to leave here without her. But as soon as I see those, cold rage washes through me and everything that came before ceases to matter. That motherfucker has been tying her to her bed.

That ends here and now.

I have no right to take this girl from her bed. What happens to her isn't my business. But the monster inside me…the one that lives on blood and pain and the fucking misery I cause motherfuckers like her uncle? He disagrees. I'll take her just because I can. Just to remind her uncle that there are bigger monsters in this city than he could ever hope to be.

And this one just chose his queen.

She will be mine. Body and soul. I won't stop until she is. Whatever I have to do, no matter what it takes, this girl will belong to me.

I've broken every law there is to break. I've lied, cheated, robbed, and killed. I've never taken a woman against her will. I've never taken one to my bed at all, in fact. But this one leaves here with me tonight.

It isn't what I came here for, but it's how this night ends.

And when she wakes in my bed?

Well, she'll learn what it means to belong to me then. But hell itself won't stop me from taking her from this place.

Rafe won't like it. In fact, he'll be furious. Taking Cillian's niece? How many times have we made the same fucking mistake lately, and it's almost cost us everything? I know better. I just don't care.

This has nothing to do with Rafe, my oath, or La Cosa Nostra. This exists outside of La Cosa Nostra. This is bigger than my debt to Rafe. This is about Cillian and teaching him how the fuck to treat the women in his care. I've known men like him. One raised me. And because of him, my mother is dead. So is the woman who loved me when she couldn't. And I spent a lifetime searching for the sister she gave up because my father left her with nothing.

Men like them don't deserve to keep breathing. And men like me relish in punishing them for every fucking sin.

I drag myself away from the girl's bed long enough to slip downstairs to do what I came to do. When I step outside her room, my blood boils. The rest of the house is dead silent. Cillian doesn't even have a guard posted to keep watch. He's too arrogant, too confident in his safety here in his home. He's a fool.

Tonight, he'll pay for his arrogance when I take his niece from beneath his nose.

I hide the listening devices throughout the house, moving quickly and soundlessly from one room to the other. If anyone finds the devices, they won't trace them back to us. They'll assume it's the FBI, or the DEA, or the ATF, or Chicago PD, or any number of other law enforcement agencies who make life difficult for men like us.

Once the devices are planted, I unlock the front door and then circle back to the kitchen. I grab the mask I found on the table there, stuffing it into my pocket. And then I slip back upstairs.

Within minutes, I'm back in Cillian's niece's bedroom, and no one in the house has a fucking clue I'm even there. The prick deserves to lose her if this is how well he guards her. There's a monster roaming his halls, preparing to snatch his niece from her goddamn bed, and he's asleep down the hall, oblivious.

Would he stop me if he knew? I don't know, and I want to kill him for that realization alone. My hands ache to reach for my knives to slit his miserable throat. But I ignore the desire for now and don the mask I stole from him, pulling it down over my face.

I grab a bag from the closet and pack a few things into it for her so she'll have clothes. I won't leave her to run around in her little nightshirt and panties. At least not while we're on the move.

Once I have a few things, I drape the bag over my arm and make my way back to the bed. I scoop her up, blanket and all. She stirs in my arms, snuggling up against my chest with a little puff of sound that goes straight to my cock.

Does she even realize what's happening to her right now?

No, of course she doesn't. She'd be screaming in terror if she did, not cuddling up against me like she's safe as houses. She is, though. She might not know it or believe it. When she wakes, I doubt she'll trust a fucking word I have to say. But one thing she'll always be with me is safe.

I don't want to hurt her. I'll kill anyone who tries. I just want to fuck my way into her soul and conquer every single inch of it. It will be mine. No matter how long it takes, I'll lay claim to her body and soul.

I wait until I'm out of the city before I call Mattia on a secure line.

"Domani," he says, not asking questions. He rarely does. We know enough not to trust even the most secure lines we've got. The fucking feds are always listening, always watching. Especially since Athena White left the fold and married Diego last year.

Losing one of their own agents to the mafia? It was a bitter pill to swallow for them, I'm sure.

I hope they're choking on it.

"I'm heading out for a few days," I say casually. "But I dropped off the mail on my way out." In other words, the devices are where they need to be, and I'm getting the fuck out of Dodge.

"Good to know," he says. "I'll look through it." He pauses. "Did you see our new friend on your way out?"

"I didn't see anyone," I lie, glancing toward the woman sleeping in the passenger seat beside me. She still hasn't stirred. Did Cillian drug her? Possibly.

I don't know how to explain her presence or what I did. Mattia knows how I amuse myself, but it's not something we've ever discussed openly. There's never been a need. The men I've killed deserved to die. That's all Mattia ever needed to know.

Tonight is an anomaly. I didn't kill Cillian. I kidnapped the niece he hurt. And that's not a conversation to be had over the phone.

It's not one I'm willing to have while she's in the city, either.

If I wasn't careful enough, it'll be a matter of hours before Cillian knows that I'm the one who took her from right underneath his nose. He knows who I am and who I work for. He'll know exactly where to go looking for her. And Mattia will have to choose between turning us over or going to war. I'm fully aware of the risk I took.

But if I'm not in the city, it'll buy us a little time. I'm going to need it because I'm not giving her back to her uncle. Not for Mattia. Not for Rafe. Not for anyone. She has rope burns on her wrists. If I have to kill everyone in her family to keep her out of their hands, so be it.

And if I have to fight my own? It's not something I relish doing. I've always been ten toes down for my family. I've always kept my vows, even when doing so turned friend to foe and drew lines in the sand that not even time erased. But I'm not giving her back.

"You heading to Texas?" Mattia asks.

"Nah. Scarlett just had a baby. She doesn't need me in her hair. I'm heading to my place in Rockford," I say. It's not a lie. That is where I'm currently headed. I have no intention of staying there for long. But I don't want him sending anyone to Silver Spoon Falls looking for me. The sister I spent my entire life looking for and her family are there. The last thing I want is for this shit to spill over into her life when I promised her husband, Finn, that it never would.

She has an entire MC and the Arakas family looking out for her, not to mention the man I've got in town protecting her from afar, but I still intend to keep my shit as far from her as possible. This isn't her life, and it shouldn't have to be. She's happy and thriving exactly where she is. This shit? The constant bullshit and fuckery? She wasn't made for it. She's soft, sweet, innocent. I want to keep her that way.

I owe that much to Silvia, her mother. She was my nanny.

"Enjoy," Mattia says. "I'll call you soon."

"Later," I disconnect, fully aware that this might be the last time we talk as equals in the family. I made my bed, though. I'm not afraid to lie in it.