Scandalous Prince

by Rachel Van Dyken

  A buzzing sounded in my ears as I lay there, nearly paralyzed with confusion and desperation.

  “Your accent, it’s gone.” My voice trembled.

  “Oh, it comes and goes.” The accent was back.

  “What’s going on?” I reached for him.

  “I wanted one more day to lie, Violet, one more day just for me, one more day just for us, because I know how this ends, and it’s with me taking you back to Chicago and you hating me forever.”

  “What?” I frowned. “I haven’t made that choice yet.”

  “You will.” With the accent gone, he sounded like Breaker, identical to Breaker. “Trust me on this, I’ve known you ever since you promised to put those pieces back together—I wanted to thank you for trying. I also wanted to let you know that I prefer to stay broken. After all, you can’t become whole without your other half, and right now she’s wondering if she’s crazy, wondering if I somehow drugged her, wondering why I lied all this time, wondering why I broke her in the first place that night at the club, wondering all the things that started this slow descent into hell, and I doubt she’ll ever look back and offer forgiveness. Her hate, you see, will outweigh her grief, and I, Valerian Petrov, will deserve it.”

  Tears leaked from my eyes, soaked the blindfold, streamed down my cheeks.

  What he was saying was impossible.

  My stomach lurched.

  My heart pounded.

  With trembling hands, I reached for my blindfold, but he beat me to it and very slowly tugged it down to my chin.

  And there he was.

  My best friend, but different.

  His eyes brighter.

  His hair lighter.

  His demeanor more haunted than I’d ever seen.

  And I knew, in my soul, he was right, whatever I would have hoped would be left of Breaker had died that day… and had been replaced with this.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  A truth and a lie, I knew she’d ask me why, but we all have our orders, our emotions a tangled flood; in the end, all that mattered was blood. —Valerian Petrov

  Valerian

  She was staring at me like I wasn’t real, and then her gaze fell like she was mourning me all over again.

  “Why?” Her eyes filled with tears. “Why would you—” She put her shaking hands in her lap and squeezed her eyes shut. “It was you that night, wasn’t it?”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “There is nothing I would not do for you, Violet. Nothing.” Anger coursed through me then, anger at our situation, anger at myself, at Phoenix, Andrei. “They were going to rape you, and I couldn’t just stand by and watch—” My voice cracked. “I had one choice, and I made it.”

  She looked away from me. “That choice, it caused a ripple effect, didn’t it?”

  “It brought Valerian Petrov back from the dead and made Breaker and you a target,” I admitted. “The minute those thugs reported back rumors of my existence, well let’s just say I should have known that day, that I would be forced out of hiding, and then not only did they demand me, but the Italian princess, pure of blood.” I stood and gave her my back, fists still clenched. “I broke you, and then I damned you—you had to believe it was real, you all had to mourn. Phoenix and Andrei helped me set it up—I couldn’t exist in both worlds, and the Russians needed their heir.”

  “Their heir,” Violet repeated, her voice hollow. “I take it you and Andrei are related then?”

  “His dad, the old boss, he had an estranged brother who married my mom—”

  “Making Andrei the bastard and you the royal blood,” she finished.

  I turned back around.

  Slowly she stood and walked over to me. I didn’t know what to expect, but her expression was destroying me bit by bit as she slowly, finally made eye contact and whispered, “You’re right, Breaker Campisi is dead.”

  “Violet—”

  “Breaker Campisi would never mess with my heart. Breaker Campisi would never—” Her voice broke as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Never do this to me. He was my best friend.”

  My heart cracked in my chest.

  “He was everything, and I’ll never forgive you for killing him.”

  “Violet, you have to know—”

  “Take me home now.”

  “You are home.” I swallowed. “I will always be your home despite his death. You married me, and you promised me one more night.” I locked eyes with her. “So, you either give it to me here or in Chicago, but you will give it to me.”

  Again, she approached, lifting her hand and slapping me across the face so hard my skin burned. “I. Hate. You.”

  “I know.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “I hate me too.”

  I walked into the closet and grabbed a bag.

  “Pack, I’ll have the jet fueled to take us back for the funeral.”

  “You’re unbelievable!” she roared. “You can’t just show up to your own funeral!”

  “Oh, trust me, I don’t want to, but now that you know, they deserve to know too, and Phoenix refuses to tell them. Andrei says I’m all out of favors, and I owe it to my old Family.”

  She smiled at me sweetly.

  I frowned. “Why are you suddenly smiling?” Was she going to forgive me? Tell me I was a jackass, but at least run into my arms and say she had missed me.

  “Oh, nothing,” Her grin widened. “I just can’t wait for my dad to slit your throat.”

  I gulped. “He won’t kill another boss.”

  “He just might… for his favorite, innocent little daughter, whose virginity got taken by Valerian Petrov.”

  And just like that, that tiny glimmer of hope flickering in my chest died a quick death.

  Because if she wanted her dad to kill me, I might just let him, so I didn’t have to remember what it used to be like to hold Violet Abandonato in my arms and hear her say my name.

  Not Breaker.

  But my true name.

  Valerian.

  No matter what, I was hers for a few days, and she was mine, and even death would not take that away from me.

  And then I smiled too and left her to pack. The smile fell when the sound of things breaking against the wall hit my ears, and then a muffled sob followed by a scream.

  I broke her first.

  I broke her last.

  So even though Breaker was dead—it seemed I kept all those tendencies to hurt and break those I loved the most.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  My truth was out in the open, but my battle had just begun because what was broken would make them come, weapons in hand, poison raised, the people I once called family to end my days. —Valerian Petrov

  Ash

  “Another funeral.” Junior handed me the flask.

  It used to be Breaker’s. We’d filled it with gin, so each gulp made me want to hurl, but it was Breaker, and it felt like the world was ending or was about to.

  “I don’t want to go,” I admitted. “I don’t know how to put one foot in front of the other.”

  My dad poked his head in the kitchen. We were all at Nixon’s waiting to go to the funeral together. The mood was somber. Tex had been drunk all day yesterday only to finally crumble at his wife’s feet.

  The toughest of them all, sobbing like a baby in his wife’s lap.

  I had shed too many tears this year for people who had left.

  Everyone left eventually.

  I took another swig.

  Junior hung his head as Serena came over and sat between us on the couch. “Gin?”

  “Yup.” Junior handed it to her.

  She just shook her head as a tear slid down her cheek.

  The only person who wasn’t drunk, drinking, or trying not to cry was King.

  No, King was just pissed.

  So angry that he’d gotten into a fight with every single boss and member of the Family, including Dom, who was the silent, deadly type one did not pick a fight with.

  He got a few hits in on him before Dom slamme
d him against the ground and told him to control his rage before he tied him up and put him in the closet.

  King just sneered at him.

  And we all knew what Tex was thinking.

  He had lost two sons that day.

  Because King would never be the same. He was… altered, so when I caught him smoking pot, I said nothing.

  He thought it would help.

  It wouldn’t.

  It just made you more numb; I’d gone down that road and came back even more depressed than before.

  “Sister’s almost here,” my dad finally said after taking in the mood in the room. All the bosses were there.

  Phoenix and Andrei were the only alert ones. What the hell kind of monsters counted weapons on the kitchen table before a funeral?

  Those guys.

  Phoenix started strapping a few guns to his chest.

  Andrei did the same.

  What the fuck? Did they think we were going to get attacked at the funeral of all places?

  Good, let them shoot at me. At least I’d see Claire again.

  Our baby.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. “Do you know if Violet’s staying?”

  My dad offered a sad smile. “All I know is she’s really enjoying studying with Nikolai. He checks in every day.”

  I snorted. Dad was going to shit a brick when he saw her ring. That was if she was going to tell him that she was currently sharing a bed with some psychopath Russian who, according to Phoenix, wasn’t ugly, so yay for her.

  “Hey.” Serena nudged me. “You already drunk, cousin, or are you just being your normal grumpy self?”

  “Normal grumpy self,” Junior answered for me. “And for a second, I thought you said elf and started to laugh then realized I should probably stop drinking if I thought you calling Ash an elf was funny.”

  Serena snorted out a laugh at that.

  It was crazy to me that they even knew how to still laugh.

  Mine was fucking broken as hell.

  Why him?

  No offense to my other cousins, but I would have preferred any of them die over this. Breaker was just too… happy.

  The rest of us had darkness.

  We had pain.

  When death came calling, we yelled right back, flipped it off, and then pulled out a gun. He made jokes, then zig-zagged in the opposite direction in hopes of finding a girl he could make-out with.

  I leaned back, tipping the last bits of gin down my throat as Phoenix grabbed a knife and handed it to Andrei.

  “Something’s up.” I eyed them suspiciously. “And that’s not the alcohol talking.”

  “They’ve been literally suiting up for the past half hour,” Serena agreed.

  “Guys, that’s just them.” Junior stood and then grabbed the flask from me. “I’m going to go refill this.”

  “Okay, elf.” Serena teased. “I’m coming with. You’re not even walking in a straight line.”

  “This is straight.” He was literally walking a diagonal path toward the kitchen.

  “Sure.” She patted him on the back and then shoved him in a more straight line toward the bar while I continued to watch Andrei and Phoenix act like we were about to go kill some people.

  Maksim plopped down next to me. “Dad’s acting weird.”

  “Weirder than normal,” I agreed.

  “He was counting bullets,” Maksim said under his breath. “And then he asked me to come sit by you and hold you down just in case.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I think he was kidding? Maybe?” Maksim frowned. “Sometimes I don’t get his humor, though. It’s very…”

  The door opened.

  “Russian,” I finished for him and stood, ready for trouble, only to get knocked down the minute I set my eyes on the “Russian” and my sister.

  And then all hell fucking broke loose.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Deadman walking had a new meaning as their love twisted into hate and descended upon me as I accepted my fate. —Valerian Petrov

  Valerian

  When I was little, I imagined this moment. I tried running away a dozen times, convinced that if I could just get back to Seattle, back to my old house, that Mom would be there waiting.

  And then I would come back with the force of a hundred years of Russian prosperity and men at my side and prove that I had left as a prince and returned as a king.

  Funny how in your ten-year-old head, things were wrapped up into perfect packages with neat tiny bows, whereas now all I saw was blood.

  All I felt was betrayal trickle through the air.

  And when I locked eyes with King first, he just shook his head like I should have figured out a way to do better.

  He had found me that last night I ran.

  And that was when I told him who I was.

  We became brothers that night.

  We became enemies this morning.

  Because I did what I had sworn to him, I would never do—abandon him.

  I wanted to reach for Violet’s hand.

  Instead, I stood, head high, eyes sharp as both Phoenix and Andrei moved to stand in front of me, fully armed, offering their protection.

  Violet went stock-still next to me.

  “What. The. Fuck.” Tex ground out, his eyes on me, then back to Phoenix, over to Andrei, and one by one, the bosses and made men faced us.

  Dante Alfero.

  Nixon Abandonato.

  Dom Abandonato.

  Tex Campisi.

  Chase Abandonato.

  They faced us down like a bad western, each of them with weapons pulled, and then Junior grabbed a lunging Serena shoving her behind him, then literally tackling her to the floor and sitting on her while she screamed for my blood.

  Literally, screamed for it.

  The wives who were present gave no more than cold expressions. My adopted mom, however, Mo rushed to my side and pulled me in for a hug.

  “You’re alive, you’re alive, you’re alive.” Kisses rained down on my face as I hugged her back.

  And it killed my soul to have to whisper, “Breaker’s dead.”

  How many times would I have to utter those words?

  How many times would it take for it to finally not hurt?

  Slowly she pulled away from me, leaving her scent clinging to me. She always smelled like vanilla and cinnamon. Her blue eyes filled with tears as she shook her head and then turned her rage toward Phoenix.

  He was prepared for the knife.

  And the kick as he caught her by the ankle and shoved her toward my adopted dad.

  Our Capo.

  “You dare go against me?” He sneered at Phoenix and then rolled his eyes at Andrei. “I expect this of him, not of you.”

  “We’re kind of a package deal now,” Phoenix said it like it annoyed him while Andrei grinned like it was the best day of his life. I half expected him to burst out laughing and go. “Gotcha!”

  “Move.” He took a step toward Phoenix. “Now.”

  “I can’t.” Phoenix had his Glock in one hand and a knife in the other. He would protect me to his death.

  I saw the flicker of movement in his right hand.

  And I couldn’t let him be the guilty party.

  In a flash, I grabbed the gun from Phoenix’s hand, pointed it at my dad and shot him in the foot, then held it to Phoenix’s head while I trained my own gun on Andrei. “We should probably all sit down before someone gets hurt.” My dad screamed in rage from the floor. “Or more hurt, and it went straight through, so get up and stop yelling. You’re making Mom sad.”

  “I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!” Dad bellowed.

  I sighed. “To be fair, I did already die, and you’ll be late for my funeral, or worse covered in my blood, which really doesn’t look all that great to all the families we swore to protect.”

  “Violet.” Chase held out his hand. “Walk toward me.”

  She stood still and then gave me a syrupy smile. “No, I think we should all talk
, get things off our chest, I’ll go first—”

  “Fuck.” I didn’t lower the guns, but the bosses did stop moving, and Andrei looked proud that I was holding my gun to his head. It was the only thing I could think of that would make them not attack all of us in their hurt and their rage.

  And now I was a dead man.

  “Vi?” Chase frowned. “Honey, why is—” His brain worked. I could practically hear it. His eyes widened, and with a yell that sounded like it came from the pits of hell, he charged us.

  All to get to Violet.

  As if I would hurt her.

  I tossed the gun back to Phoenix and spun around, grabbing Violet by the arm and pulling her against me, protecting her against whatever Chase was going to do and taking whatever anger he had for her.

  I was dead already.

  Why not be a human shield?

  She stumbled back against the wall, my body covering her.

  “My dad would never hurt me.” She shoved at me.

  “No offense.” I gritted my teeth as Chase drove a knife directly into my back, poetic, really. “But he’s fucking crazy!”

  “Get.” Stab. “Away.” Stab. “From.” Stab. “My.” That one went deep. “DAUGHTER!”

  I dropped to the floor in a heap of burning pain from the short stab wounds in my back, and the entire room fell quiet until someone muttered, “Was that a steak knife?”

  Welcome to the mafia.

  I groaned and pushed to my feet, but I’d barely found any balance when Chase kicked me in the stomach and sent me sailing to my ass again.

  Rolling to the side, I reached out and grabbed his ankle, then spun around and kicked him in the shin. A crunching sound filled the kitchen as he fell backward and then wobbled toward me.

  I jumped up, even wounded. I’d been training for this since I was three. My mom had demanded it. I knew how to fight; I’d just always chosen not to.

  I dodged a punch and then landed one to his jaw while everyone watched in horror, unable to move.

  Blood trickled down my back as he tackled me to the ground, straddling me, ready to beat my entire face in.

  I smiled when Phoenix held a gun to Chase’s head, followed by Andrei. “He’s already dead, don’t kill him again.”