Sweet Surrender: A Dark Mafia Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (King's Trace Antiheroes Book 1)

by Sav R. Miller

  It helps that I’m still aiming for ruination.

  “Okay, you two stay here. I’m gonna go out and make sure Benito’s waiting, and I’ll be right back.” Pinning me with a pointed look, he cocks an eyebrow. “Seriously. Don’t wander off.”

  I roll my eyes. “I have no interest in going back there.”

  Nodding, he turns, disarming the alarm on the emergency exit, and slips outside. Silence envelopes us as we stand and wait, the clinking of glasses and indignant shouts coming from other areas of the art center.

  Juliet brushes her hands over the material of her short, satiny red dress, tucking a strand of hair back into her updo. “Caroline, I—”

  Holding my hands up, I cut her off. “Don’t. Don’t apologize for things you weren’t aware of.”

  Tears well up in her eyes, and my nose burns at the effort it takes not to join her. Stupid hormones. “But I should have known. All this time, you’ve been... God, what he did to you. And I’ve been an idiot, thinking you were being dramatic and milking the white knight complex. I feel like an asshole.”

  “You saw exactly what I wanted you to. If I could keep you aloof and unknowing, I could keep you safe.”

  “I could’ve helped you.” A tear spills over, slipping down her cheek. “You shouldn’t have gone through that alone.”

  “I wasn’t alone.” Reaching out, I grip her biceps and give her a gentle shake. One hand moves to her face, wiping away the salty evidence of a lifetime of sadness and regret. “I didn’t need you to know what I was going through; I needed you to get through it. To grow up without the stain of having your innocence taken away. You got to experience real life, and I don’t want you to feel guilty over that.”

  “But I do, Care. Jesus. How can you even look at me and not feel disgusted? Every time I sided with Daddy over you, every time I whined about you being overprotective and overbearing. I had no idea.”

  Exhaling, I shrug. “I could’ve gone about it differently. Could’ve tried harder to get Dad in trouble, but I wanted to do things on my own terms. Get vengeance by myself. In retrospect, it probably did more harm than good.”

  “Todd and Sheldon. Did you…?”

  I shake my head, unwilling to divulge that. She doesn’t need to know everything. “Happy coincidence.”

  She lets out a shaky breath and steps back, moving to look at herself in a wall mirror. “I’m still sorry, and I still feel like a piece of shit.”

  “Well, I can’t change how you feel, Jules. I just hope one day you can come to terms with all of this, the way I’m trying to. And I hope you know; I don’t hold anything against you.” I watch as she dabs beneath her eyelids, eliminating smudges of mascara.

  A throat clears, and we turn around, stumbling backward. I’m expecting Luca, though I haven’t heard the door open.

  My father’s form, standing a few feet away, shouldn’t surprise me. Although, it makes me wonder where the hell Elia is since he was supposed to subdue him until the cops came to arrest him.

  There’s a sinister look frozen on Dominic’s face. Hatred seeps through the core of his being, making my heart ache for the time before he ruined us—when he was still my father and not a power-hungry pervert.

  It’s fucked up, but there’s still a part of me that knows if he just apologized and worked at changing his behavior, I’d forgive him.

  He’s still my father, still the man I looked up to and loved at one time. The first man I ever gave my heart to—and the first to rip it into a million little pieces.

  I still want him to look at me and see his perfect little girl—to want to keep me safe and happy.

  But I know there’s no chance of reconciliation between us. We’re beyond the point of return, of forgiveness.

  So why am I still searching for it?

  “You always were a master manipulator.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he shakes his head, watching us. The ultimate predator, finally having cornered his prey. “Got everyone convinced I’m the bad guy. Ever tell anyone how you begged me to let you sleep with Sheldon? How you refused to let anyone else go to events with me because you didn’t want them to have the attention?”

  I reach behind me, finding Juliet’s hand and wrapping my fingers around hers. My free hand brushes against the gun Luca gave me earlier after I left the bathroom, strapped into the back of my bra beneath my dress. ‘Die Hard style,’ he said as he secured it there. ‘Just in case.’

  Taking a step back, so I’m flush against my sister and the wall, I toss my father a short laugh. It gets stuck halfway up, fear clogging my throat despite the desire coursing through my veins.

  I want this—want him dead.

  But I also want to keep my baby safe.

  My arm strains against my back, fingers grasping toward the weapon.

  “The only manipulator here is you,” Juliet spits, nails biting into my skin. “What kind of a father does that to his own kid?”

  He smirks. “There isn’t a shred of truth to those allegations, Juliet.”

  “We all heard the recording.”

  “And we all know recordings can be fabricated. Just like we know that your sister likes to be the center of attention.” He glares at me, taking a step closer, reaching into his coat pocket and revealing the tail-end of a hunting knife. He slips it out, wielding it like a sword. “I’m not surprised you believe her, though. You never were very bright.”

  Her body jerks against mine, and I press back, keeping her from making a sudden move. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

  “Or what?” His grin stretches as he stalks closer, eating up the distance between us with long, deliberate steps. Where the hell is Luca? “What do you think you can do to me?”

  I feel Juliet’s hand leave mine and slide up my back, working against my bra. My spine tenses, but she gives an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Swallowing, I focus on our father, who looms closer and closer with each step he takes.

  “There’s no one else back here. No one to hear you two scream. If I want to correct my biggest mistake, right here, right now, I fucking will.”

  The gun pops from my bra and is shoved into my hand just as he jumps forward, grabbing for my arm; I twist away, spinning against the wall. He catches Juliet instead, pulling her back against his chest and positioning his knife at her side.

  My breath hitches as I right my footing, wheeling on them, and lift the gun I stole from him all those weeks ago. I aim at his face, and he laughs, his free hand gripping Juliet’s throat.

  “Jesus, Caroline, maybe you’re not as smart as I thought. Go ahead and shoot me, see if you or your sister make it out of here unscathed.”

  “Shoot him, Care.” Juliet widens her eyes at me.

  A tremor makes its way through me; this is it. The plan I had all along, right here in my hands. Within reach, though not without a slight blunder messing everything up. I’m not sure how long it’d take him to stab her before my bullet reaches his brain, but something tells me this won’t end well, regardless.

  Still, I’m frozen, hands stuck in place, the cold metal of the weapon bleeding into my skin. My index finger swipes across the trigger, and a bead of sweat pops out across my forehead as my pulse picks up.

  I could do it; put an end to my nightmares. To the pull that I maintain with him, the one seeking his approval. Something I shouldn’t have had to work for in the first place.

  Gritting my teeth, my finger flexes, itching for relief.

  For freedom.

  Dominic shrugs. “If you think you’re a good marksman, have at it. But you should know, I—”

  He doesn’t complete the sentence, because in a flash, Elia’s standing behind him, pressing a pistol into the back of his neck. “Go ahead and finish that sentence, fucker. Give me something to think about after I paint the walls with your blood.”

  Luca and Gia appear from the shadows, smacking the knife from my father’s hand and yanking Juliet from h
is grasp. I half-expect Elia to rescind our deal and shoot him right there, but he doesn’t.

  And I can’t deny the disappointment that washes over me.

  There’s a tremble in my body as Gia wrenches my father’s hands behind his back. Elia stands, glaring down at him, and I can’t seem to make my hands retreat. I’m stuck, solidified in this space, my heart set on ending my suffering once and for all.

  Gia takes a baton from his waist, cracks it against the air so it elongates, and whips the back of my father’s kneecaps. He cries out, crumpling, and I close one eye, aiming at his chest.

  “Mio amore?” Elia’s voice is low in my ear, concern lacing his words. I feel his hand at my hip, trying to draw me from the spell I’ve fallen into, but I shake him off.

  “I need to do this,” I whisper, aware of several sets of eyes on me except the ones I want. Dominic stares at the ground, refusing to give me the satisfaction of even this.

  “Caroline…” Elia starts, but I clench my jaw, steeling myself against him. “You don’t know what it’s like, what this does to you. Your soul might not recover.”

  “My soul is already tattered.”

  “Tattered, yes, but not destroyed. Not irreparable.”

  I swallow against the fire in my throat. “I want this. I deserve it.” Tears prick my eyes, blurring my vision, but I don’t falter. Can’t. Won’t. “He hurt me. He let others hurt me.”

  “I know.”

  “No, you don’t. I never told you.”

  “You didn’t have to. I found out anyway.” My husband sweeps the hair from my shoulder but doesn’t touch me otherwise. Doesn’t try to distract me with his touch, which would have me melting like chocolate on a summer day and abandoning all reason. “But he didn’t break you, remember? Everything you’ve done, every ounce of love and life you’ve poured into your existence, despite the evil he wrought on you, that’s your proof. You’re still here, thriving, in spite of it all. Don’t ruin everything you’ve worked to reclaim.”

  My chest burns, my vision blurring.

  “He didn’t win, baby. That’s all you and me.” His body heat ebbs into me, setting the cold, dark parts of me alight with warmth. “Don’t do this. Let me help you.”

  A sob escapes Juliet and my gaze flickers to hers. She stands beside Luca, watching me with wide eyes. Eyes just like mine.

  Eyes that my baby might inherit.

  Or maybe he’ll look like his dad, dark and handsome. Perhaps he’ll be a fierce protector, loyal to the bone.

  Either way, I want him to be loved—to enter this world an innocent, unaware of his parents’ tainted souls.

  Something shifts in me, a ripple along the blood pulsing through my body that brings me back to reality. I suck in a deep breath, relenting, and let Elia pry the gun from my hands. He sweeps me into his arms, folding me into his chest, and breathes into my hair.

  “When does it stop hurting?” I murmur into his suit, letting a few tears fall. Why do I feel so deflated?

  He runs a hand over my hair, cradling my head. “It doesn’t. We just learn to cover the bad stuff with better memories.” Pushing hair from my face, he gazes into my eyes, his creasing at the corners. “And you and I are gonna make the best goddamn memories.”

  Curling an arm over my shoulders, he ushers our group out the emergency exit. I pull against his hold when we pass my father, stopping in my tracks. He tilts his head up slightly, a menacing grin on his face. Even though there’s still an ache flaring deep in my chest at his vile spirit, at the chasm between us, there’s a certain pride in not stooping to his level—in proving my worth, to myself.

  Proving that I’m better.

  Still, when he winks at me, I can’t stop my reaction; my tongue writhes in my mouth, saliva pooling on the tip, and I purse my lips, projecting it right at him.

  The wad of spit lands on his mouth, and a look of pure rage washes over him. He struggles against his binds, unable to wipe his face, and I grin as Elia drags me outside to where Benito waits.

  Tucking me into the backseat, my husband cups my cheek in his hand and lets out a soft smile. “You amaze me, mio amore.”

  I tap his chest, hoping I’m conveying how I adore him, wishing the words would push past my lips. Hoping he knows how much I appreciate his unknowing participation in my plan from the very beginning.

  Falling in love with him was just the icing on top.

  Juliet settles in beside me, and we buckle up, watching the others turn and go back inside. Luca climbs into the front passenger seat and taps the dashboard.

  “God, Caroline. You’re a fucking badass.” My sister shakes her head, leaning against the window, and an odd calmness washes over me as we head toward the interstate, knowing that everything is actually, officially, over.

  GIA DRAGS DOMINIC’S stupid ass up the stairs, not stopping even as the older man’s feet catch on each step, terror keeping his limbs from working properly.

  Normally, we’d leave this part up to Kal, but he skipped town last week, saying something about unfinished business with a girl in North Carolina, claiming our hooded figure is more than up to the task.

  I didn’t ask questions, and he didn’t offer any answers.

  Shoving Dominic into the incomplete gallery, we flank him and fit him into a leather chair, binding his wrists and ankles to the arms and legs. Marco gagged him downstairs with a bandana he found outside, and he tries to work it from his mouth, thrashing and screaming.

  The spit from Caroline still coats his top lip, and it makes my heart skip a beat.

  My girl.

  A back door opens and closes with a soft click, and my father approaches us, dodging the plethora of headless mannequins that fill the room. “Jesus, you guys couldn’t have picked a creepier room.”

  I roll my eyes as Gia unloads his duffel bag, unzipping and removing tools. “We didn’t pick it.”

  “Who the hell did?”

  “Me.”

  The hooded figure from before slithers out of the shadows, hands tucked behind his back. His pale face looks ghoulish in the fluorescent lighting, a heavy feeling settling low in my gut as he floats toward us. Unlike Kal, Kieran Ivers looks like a demon straight out of hell; a possessed Red Riding Hood.

  A shiver skates down my spine, still unsure if I should’ve involved him in this.

  But there’s only one man colder and more disconnected than our usual fixer, and he had the technical know-how to pull off our stunt earlier. Once we confirmed that it was Dominic and his men stealing from us, before we exiled Gia’s brother, I reached out and made a deal with Kieran.

  I couldn’t offer him the money or the woman that Dom had promised him, but I could at least give him this. The sick satisfaction that comes with ending a life undeserving of existing.

  He agreed without a moment’s hesitation, despite allegedly having been holed up in his house for the last several weeks.

  I can’t help but wonder if the ghost of his brother in that rotting castle started to get to him, the way all ghosts return to the scene of the crime at some point.

  Marco works at Dominic’s clothing, cutting them from his body with the knife he tried to use on my wife and her sister. What beautiful irony.

  The senator squirms under my soldier’s ministrations, shrinking back into the chair as Kieran stalks around him. Watching, observing.

  Looking for which vein to slit first.

  I cross the room to where Gia’s hunched over, sifting through weapons with a strange look on his face. “You good?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t like involving outsiders, is all.”

  Nodding, I reach for a medieval-looking instrument, turning it in my hands. “Where the hell does Kal get this shit?”

  “I’m not sure I even want to know.”

  Marco’s got Dominic stripped completely naked; his chest heaves as I walk over, tears staining his rotund cheeks, making him look almost boyish. I rip the gag from his m
outh, giving him a chance to speak. To repent. “If you’re hoping the sad, innocent look will convince us to let you go, you’ve got another thing coming.”

  “Now, look, asshole. If you think the federal government won’t come down on you because of this, you have another thing coming.”

  Annoyed with his lack of remorse, I shove the bandana back in his mouth, making sure my fingers scrape the inside flesh as much as possible. “I’m not scared of the fucking government.”

  Gripping his left hand, I fit his thumb between the metal bars of the instrument. His eyes widen as I start to twist the screw in the middle, pulling his digit closer to the bar at the bottom of the apparatus. It’s a slow process, dragged out by how he jerks and whimpers, but as soon as his skin makes contact with the metal, I twist faster, harder, putting all of my weight into it.

  His wails are muffled by the gag, sweat pouring off his face as I continue twisting. I hear the soft crack where bone begins to break beneath the pressure, and I can’t stop a grin from spreading across my face.

  Fuck, if that doesn’t give me a semi.

  He pushes the bandana out. “Jesus, wait.” Dom pants, his face blood red. “Can’t we come up with some kind of deal?”

  “You mean, like the deal you offered your friends? Sorry, but I don’t fuck minors, and you’re all out of daughters.”

  I repeat the process on the other hand, the scent of Dominic’s piss permeating the air as he continues to struggle through the pain. Smiling down, I release his limp thumb, kicking him in the shin with my steel-toe. A dark purple welt forms on his leg, and a deep groan rumbles in his chest, his breaths harsh and labored.

  “Should we try to get any extra information from him?” Marco asks, glancing at my father for direction.

  It irks me, but I ignore the blatant insubordination, too focused on the adrenaline surging through me.

  I meant what I said to Caroline. That killing someone changes you, mars your soul in a way you can’t ever erase.

  But I’m already beyond saving, so this won’t matter.