Prologue
Xeno
My mum was a wise woman.
She often told me that the strongest, most courageous of us all are not the ones that mete out blood and violence but kindness and understanding in the face of opposition.
She was a good person, unlike me.
I learnt the value of kindness and understanding from her.
I learnt the importance of friendship and loyalty from the Breakers.
And I learnt to be a ruthless, violent bastard from the Skins.
Right now I bet my mum’s rolling over in her grave, praying to anyone who’ll listen to save my wretched soul. Some nights when I’m stuck in my head, I sure as fuck feel her disappointment. It weighs as heavy as the bad choices I’ve made and the souls of the men I’ve killed.
I’ve killed people.
I might not wear the tattoos beneath my eyes like Jeb does, but it doesn’t make it any less true. Sure, they might have been bad men. They might have deserved to get a bullet between the eyes, but that doesn’t change the fact that I took their lives. It also doesn’t change the fact that I used a dance I love to seduce their wives to find out as much as I could about them. I never slept with the women, not ever, but being their private bachata teacher was how I learned their husbands’ secrets. It’s amazing what a woman will say when they think they’re going to get fucked. I don’t feel any guilt. Those women have better lives without their sadistic, violent husbands ruling over them. The truth is, I’ve done many things I’m ashamed of but killing those men, so the rest of the Breakers didn’t have to, isn’t one of them.
Zayn, Dax, York, they’re my ride or die.
The choices I make are for those motherfuckers, my brothers. Every damn time.
When we were kids our crew gave us purpose and dance held us steady, it gave us an outlet that didn’t end in violence. We tried so fucking hard to fight the inevitable, and for a time we stayed out of trouble. We were the best dance crew in London, and when Pen joined us, we became a goddamn family. That tiny little girl who’d walked into our basement battered, bruised and with balls of steel, had done something no other girl could.
She made us love her.
With her by our side we found solace in dance. Peace. We formed a bond that meant something, that meant fucking everything, and over time our friendship grew into more. We would all do anything for her.
She taught us how to love, and then she broke our fucking hearts.
I told her that we’d returned to reclaim what’s ours. She believes that’s her.
She’s wrong.
I let her destroy us once before. There isn’t a chance in hell I’ll allow her to do that again.
She can tempt me with her fire and her fury. She can kiss me and almost bring me to my goddamn knees. She can dance until the very fucking pit of my soul starts to revive but I cannot, will not, let her back in.
And neither will they. I’ll make sure of it.
We aren’t the boys she once loved anymore.
They’re dead.
And when we’re done, a part of her will be too.
I don’t get off on that fact. It’s just a certainty that none of us can avoid.
We’re the Breakers and we break things after all.
1
Pen
I have a choice. I know that.
Fight back and sign Lena’s death warrant.
Obey and get raped.
Running is no longer an option. It never was.
“That’s it, Penelope, do the right thing,” Jeb sneers as I turn to face him. His warm breath curdles the air that’s already filled with the heady scent of sex and debauchery. Around us people are fucking like animals, all sense of decency left at the entrance to Grim’s club. Not that any of these fuckers had much to begin with. They’re all gangsters, fucking criminals. They don’t give a shit. Their sense of right and wrong is skewed to suit their own sense of morality. This is probably an average night out for them.
“I’m sure Zayn will make you feel good, Penelope. I’ve heard he’s quite the lover.” Jeb’s laughter scratches down my spine, making me stiffen as bile burns my throat.
My instinct is to fight back, but if I do that then David will be the least of my problems. He’s in fucking Mexico, after all. Right here and now, Jeb is just a short car ride away from my little sister who has no fucking clue about the target on her head.
“Did you think I’d forget? That I’d let this go?”
“No,” I bite out. Of course I didn’t. Jeb hasn’t got to this position by backing out of his threats. He collects his debt in blood, tears, and death. Everyone knows that, including me. I just wish I hadn’t allowed myself to fall into the false sense of security that the last three years have afforded me. Now, after all that time, Jeb’s cashing in part of my debt.
Tonight Zayn is playing his doppelganger for the sole purpose of fucking me in front of all these bastards. What I don’t understand is why Jeb gives a shit anyway? Why does he feel he needs to hide his sexual preferences? What difference does being gay make? This is the twentieth century for fuck’s sake.
“Pretty girl, just fucking relax. You loved him once. I’m sure he’ll make it good for you…” Jeb has the gall to say, his blasé attitude boiling my blood.
“I can’t believe Zayn would agree to this. I know I hurt him, but this?”
“You know you want it. Don’t lie to yourself, Penelope. I bet you’re wet thinking about Zayn fucking you in front of the Breakers. Isn’t that what pissed your brother off so much, knowing that you were a whore for them?”
“Fuck you,” I seethe, holding onto the anger because tears are unthinkable. I will not shed any for this man, and I refuse to shed any more for the Breakers.
“It ain’t me who’s getting fucked tonight, pretty girl. Though admittedly, your feistiness is turning me on just a little,” he admits, with a surprised laugh. “Who would’ve thought it?”
“You’re sick. This is rape,” I snarl back, yanking my arms from his grip. My gaze flicks to the table beside us and the empty bottle of champagne. If I could just reach it, I could use it as a weapon.
Jeb smiles lazily beneath his mask, even though his black eyes flash with warning. “Nuh-uh-huh,” he says, wagging his finger in my face. “Grim’s men will take you out, and your little sister will be dead within the hour. The only fighting in Grim’s club is in the cage. Those are the rules. Of course, hate sex is positively encouraged.” He tips his head back and laughs like a fucking bloodthirsty hyena.
Around us the patrons are oblivious to the war raging within me, too busy fucking like animals, or snorting long lines of coke laid out onto plates of mirrored glass in front of them. The trouble is, there’s no winning side. Not for me. I’m fucked any way you look at it. Knowing that, my hands remain by my side. I want to scream, my fists curl and uncurl and my jaw aches from clenching it so tightly, but nothing compares to the anger and betrayal I feel. Nothing.
It burns inside of me, ripping through my chest like an out of control fire gutting a home filled up with memories. Jeb might be the instigator, the guy who holds all the strings, but the Breakers, they’re the ones who agreed to this.