Prologue
Vincenzo di Napoli
Before Neal Sanders stepped up and killed his predecessor, I was the youngest Don on the Commission. It was a position I was proud of and one I grabbed with both hands, hungry for the power that was my due. I didn’t think twice when I killed the fucking idiot who was sitting in the chair that I wanted, effectively making my way onto the Commission of Dons of Cosa Nostra.
It placed me exactly where I needed to be to make sure the changes I wanted in the organization were within my reach. I kept my eye on Neal, hoping he’d be the one who would be able to help me, the one who sees the same kind of potential in our organization. Luckily, he didn’t turn into the narcissistic bastard that was his uncle. Because if he didn’t kill him, I surely would have.
But instead of another enemy, he became the closest ally I’ve had in my entire life. We’ve always been aware of each other, moving in the same circles, but I made sure not to make my interest in him too public. That would have tipped the rest of the Dons off, and they would have intervened. More than they already did. Now, we’ve grown to be brothers in arms, both working toward the same goal. The goal of growing Cosa Nostra into the most fearsome organization in the entire world.
That’s why I didn’t think twice before jumping into action when I realized the entire thing was a fucking set-up.
We only had one enemy we needed to neutralize, one enemy who insisted on poking us with a stick, over and over again. One enemy who blew up our building and left bodies strewn in alleyways for us to find.
The Sicilian Camorra.
In retaliation, we were supposed to target the main buildings, the centers of their most profitable businesses. It would allow us to effectively cripple Danielle da Volterra and make him understand that he no longer holds the power. That Cosa Nostra is not there for him to take, but to fear and respect.
Everything was going according to plan. We were nearly there. After months of planning and two full weeks of laying low in Sicily, we just had a few more hours until we were home free. Until our mission was accomplished.
But I assume one of the sycophants who worship the ground Da Volterra walks on, got word of our plans somehow and warned him—because they were fucking ready for us.
The building me and my team were supposed to terminate was completely empty. No soldiers in sight, no sign of the human trafficking business they run to increase their profits. There was nothing pointing to them ever being there in the first place and using it to ship their merchandise across the world. It was a fucking fluke.
That’s when I made sure to get to the estate Neal was attacking along with his team of men.
We made it there with barely any time to spare. He was out cold and wounded, with nobody but Killian de Luca to drag him out of there. We took more hits than we anticipated and I was more than happy to return the favor.
It was my fucking pleasure to take my team and fuck up the rest of the Sicilians who attacked them, who attacked our Godfather.
But as much as I hate to admit it, I got cocky. The smile on my face grew wider and bloodier with every man I killed, the adrenaline coursing through my veins made me feel invincible.
We were so fucking close, I could taste it.
I could fucking taste it.
Roaring in frustration, I yank on the chains keeping me in place. The shackles around my wrists are burning the welts already there, the metal cutting into my skin for the umpteenth time. The pain, the bite, is almost comforting.
It’s been two months.
Two months of darkness.
Dampness. Putrid, bleak dampness.
At least that’s not all. Along with the smell of decaying flesh and blood, the cell is filled with my regret and absolute fury that I allowed myself to get caught.
That and uncertainty if anyone will come for me. And if they do, if I’ll still be alive.
These fuckers haven’t been too forthcoming about their plans for me, but it doesn’t take a genius to know it isn’t anything good or remotely pleasant.
Looking down at the stump that used to be my finger, the one with my signet ring, marking me as one of the most powerful men in the world, a sense of loss deepens the void inside of me.
They took it and kept me alive. Alive, bleeding and in fucking agony.
But with a small ray of hope.
Because I expected a bullet through my skull.
This way will be harder. I’ll have to endure more than the seven circles of hell. And who knows if I’ll be able to get back to my life after I crawled through it.
All I know for certain is that I’m Vincenzo di Napoli, and defeat isn’t in my vocabulary.
Prologue
Tahlia da Volterra
They have somebody down there.
I could hear the screams a few nights ago. Howls of anger, excruciating pain, and frustration pulling me from my already restless slumber. Summer is supposed to draw to an end, but the sun and the skies haven’t shifted an inch. Even with my windows open every single night, it’s still hot, the sheets sticky against my sweaty skin, the ocean air not helping things along in any way.
Everything about this place is beautiful. Daniele made sure of that the moment he bought the castle-like villa from its previous owner. After all, a king deserves to live in the finest, most extravagant place in the country. The villa was on its way to becoming one of the most popular tourist attractions in Palermo, but Daniele made sure to threaten and pay the right people to obtain sole ownership and access to Porto dell’Acquasanta. Having a private entrance from the ocean, acres and acres of land, a mountain protecting you from behind, and a giant castle in your possession, cements his image as king and saint of the people of Palermo.
A saint with a dungeon and countless enemies to fill it with.
One of which is currently down there because of my doing.
My older brothers don’t want me near their business. Especially not since the second eldest, Aldo, was murdered last year. Being the youngest and a woman, they never invited me into their business, never made me part of their conversations. But at least they didn’t actively shut me out. Not like now.
It’s infuriating.
I’m a Da Volterra after all. The same blood that runs through their veins, runs through mine, meaning I can be just as monstrous, just as dangerous as they are. If they believe themselves to be saintlike warriors, then does that not make me one too?
But they don’t see that when they look at me.
They only see their little sister.
Daniele has never been one to follow the rules and traditions of the Sicilian Mafia, especially when they don’t serve him. Which means the traditions only ever apply to me. I’m not allowed to roam the city freely, to explore and live, to meet new people. No, the only people I ever meet are all soldiers. Soldiers with explicit orders not to touch me.
Although, Daniele’s rules have never stopped me from doing what I want, from taking what I want. That’s why I was in the city, close to the docks when I overheard a group of Italian-American men discuss their plans to attack my brother. Of course they didn’t think that someone like me, a woman, might be able to bring down their plans with a mere whisper in my older brother’s ear. I had hoped that this would show Daniele how useful I can be, that he doesn’t have to keep me away from the business, but no. Dario took all the credit for himself, leaving me with the difficult decision of contradicting him in front of Daniele.