Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“The pay is five times higher than normal,” Angel says, his eyes on Nash for some reason.
What am I? Chopped liver?
I look between Angel and Nash. “Wanna go in halves?”
Nash holds his hands up in mock surrender. Fucking coward.
“I know what we do is dangerous,” Nash says. “But guaranteed death, I'm out.”
Fox reenters the house, a cold beer dangling between his fingers by the neck of the bottle.
“Just giving the guys an opportunity to take a job, five times the pay, probably ten times the danger,” Angel says to the crazy guy.
I can’t believe this shit.
“We can go in halves,” I say, offering the same deal I offered to Nash.
“I work alone,” Fox grunts, making me smile as I look back at Angel.
“I guess it's yours, Hollis,” Angel says, sounding more disappointed than I like. “I'll email you the details.”
“This is all fun and everything, but I've got shit to do,” Liam says, directing Raya toward the front door of the little shotgun house.
We’re not far behind. We aren’t a team. Fox said it best, declaring he works alone. We all do.
I didn’t take the job because I particularly like danger. I’d much rather get in, serve up a little justice, and get paid. I’m not one to drag a job out. That means I get shit done quickly, leaving me bored.
Maybe this next job will take longer.
The threat of death is nothing new to me. I don’t particularly want to die, but it’s not like there’s anyone around to mourn me.
I shut down the thoughts of my dad, Patrick, and Ellie before they can take over as I walk to my truck. That whole situation I experienced as a child may have been the deciding factor of how I live my life, but I never allow it to get inside of me. It’s poison, something that could easily eat away at me from the inside until I end up no better than my father.
Chapter 2
Madelene
I draw in a deep breath, knowing that it’s early in the morning without even having to pull back the curtains in my room.
I avoid looking outside as much as possible. I know the bars on the window should no longer bother me. It’s not like I’d leave this place.
My ties, the things that keep me in this room, in this house, despite hating every person who roams the halls, aren’t chains. I’m not held captive here by restraints or even verbal threats of harm.
I’m imprisoned instead by loyalty, with a vow spoken by someone else.
I’m promised to a man who I hate with a passion, but I know better than to run.
My father, another man I’m not sure I love any longer, gave me to Alessio Severino, heir to the Severino family, the largest crime syndicate in Chicago with ties to old Italy, New York, Boston, with whispers of expanding further south.
I chose this life no more than my father did. Growing accustomed to the life I have to live has been a slow process, something I fight internally daily, but would never have the courage to speak out against.
I’m not shocked when the rattle at my door turns into it swinging open rather than a knock and a request to enter.
I frown at Marcello as he walks inside, as if he owns the place. Despite being the second-born son to Mafia leader, Lucian Severino, he acts as though he’s the one set to inherit all that surrounds us.
I watch his face, wondering which side of the man I’m going to get today, considering that he may just be the one to rule it all. It would mean killing his father and older brother, but from the soulless look in his dark brown eyes, it isn’t much of a stretch.
The Severinos are known for their brutality, especially this newest generation. Lucian is fair for the most part, yet unafraid to mete out what he considers justice to those deserving. Alessio and Marcello, however, are a different breed. They feed on the blood and brutality.
“Did you need something?” I ask, trying my best to hide the irritation in my voice.
Marcello loves nothing more than a challenge, and if he feels like I’m overstepping, he’ll find a way to quickly put me back in my place.
His eyes take a long time to find mine, and I look away immediately when they do. The man makes cold chills run down my arms and legs despite the warmth of the blanket still covering my lower half.
He doesn’t speak as his eyes skate down my body. I’m wearing a t-shirt and have my blanket pulled up around my waist, but the way he watches me makes me feel completely naked.
I’m scared of him, and I was long before our families’ connection was solidified by my father’s mistake and subsequent vow.