Demise (The Clans Book 13)

by Elizabeth Knox

  Demise

  Iris Sweetwater

  Elizabeth Knox

  Demise

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are all products of the authors’ imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblances to persons, organizations, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

  Demise. Copyright © 2020 by Elizabeth Knox & Iris Sweetwater. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the authors, except in the case of brief quotations used in articles or reviews. For information contact E. Knox & I. Sweetwater.

  Contact Elizabeth

  Contact Iris

  Cover Design: Clarise Tan, CT Cover Creations

  Editing: Jackie Ziegler, Knox Publishing

  Proofreading: Jackie Ziegler, Knox Publishing

  Formatting: E.C. Land, Knox Publishing

  Dedicated to:

  The Readers.

  You’re the one who’s been here since the beginning. Thank you so much for sticking with this series, even as unconventional as it may. We have more mafia coming for you in 2021 and we hope you’re excited.

  Much love,

  Iris & Elizabeth

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Trigger Warning

  This book is intended for mature audiences only. If darker books are not for you, please do not move forward. After re-adjusting my trigger warning system, I will not be giving any spoilers. Please understand that this is not your run of the mill romance and tough subjects will be spoken about in this storyline.

  Prologue

  Bianca

  Okay. Ten minutes apart. He’ll show up ten minutes after I do, always moments from being fashionably late and no one will assume anything because it’s his typical style. He is Stefan Dalca after all. Arrogant. Domineering. This time isn’t anything different than the others, yet fear always strikes through my body every time he and I leave the same location.

  I worry because he’s not only older than I, but because of how risqué the type of relationship we have is. I’m the daughter of Mariana Vasile and adopted daughter of Ion Petran. My biological father was nothing more than a rapist pig, so I only view Ion as my dad. He’s raised me, so if anyone has a problem they can suck it.

  Stefan’s wife was killed a few years ago as a result of an attack on the Clans, a malice event which didn’t even need to take place in the first place if you ask me. But, we’re in the mafia. Things like this are going to happen whether we like it or not.

  I go up the cement stairs leading into my parents’ brownstone, the home I grew up in and walk directly past their security who stand in the foyer. Anyone who comes here would only see two men in suits, but we have about fourteen. Two are in a control room watching footage, two are out in the backyard and the rest are in various locations of the home and general premises. We can never be too careful and it’s something we’ve learned time and time again. Those who say less is more have clearly never endured what we have.

  I tug down my Kansas T-shirt dress as I head up the stairwell, not wanting the guards to see my neon green thong. A pair of suede color knee high boots pull of the look, complimenting the gold accents in their logo. Lastly, I sport an oversized Gucci bag on my shoulder.

  You see, I’m not the typical mafia princess.

  My naturally blonde hair is dyed a raspberry pink. I have two cherry blossom half-sleeves, and a chest piece. I’m not one of those prim and proper women. If you ask me, I’m the exact opposite.

  The wedge of my boots clacks against the dark wooden floors and I push through my parents’ study door. It’s where we hold all the Clan meetings these days, simply video chatting with those who can’t be here in person. Time and time again has shown us when we’re all in one place, chaos will soon follow.

  “Where the hell have you been, Bianca?” my father sneers, rising from his seat.

  No one else is in the room besides my mother, him, and myself.

  “Out. Why does it matter?” I always comment without a care in the world when it comes to him. Showing an emotional response only aggravates him more.

  He stands from his chair, using his cane to help him hold his balance. Ah, his gold and black cane. He put in a special order from a Romanian man. It may appear as a simple cane, but it doubles as a sword, made from the strongest steel money can buy.

  “You are my daughter, now tell me where you’ve been. I don’t have time to play games with you.”

  “I’ve been out, as many twenty-one year old women do.” This time, I don’t hold back any bit of attitude. If he wants to treat me like a child, he’ll soon regret it.

  “Dammit, Bianca, I—”

  “I was somewhere you wouldn’t approve of, Daddy.” I bat my eyelashes, teasing him. If he only knew where I was. He’d probably have a stroke.

  “Bianca!” He snarls.

  “Bianca, stop it. Your father doesn’t need any additional stress right now. Goodness, you’re acting like such a brat. We have a meeting starting in a few minutes, so both of you get your shit together. Stefan, Philippe, and Mikel will be here at any given moment and then we need to call the others.” Mother butts in, doing as she always does to diffuse the situation.

  “Fine,” I mutter, moseying over to my seat. I sit directly beside my father, at his right hand. One day I will inherit the Clans, so he told me from a young age they’d see me close to the head of table for when the day comes I inherit everything.

  Mikel and Melody Lungu are the first who pass through the door of the study. Mikel oversees our operations in South Africa, and his wife, Melody, is the face of a charity my mother started. They actually fell in love when Melody began working for the charity.

  Philippe and Carla Sala are next, making quick work of getting to their seats. Philippe oversees operations in Germany. His wife is Carla Moretti-Sala. Her father owns the Arcane, which is an assassin business. Though, Carla has made quite the name for herself as a successful restaurateur.

  Lastly, Stefan comes through the doors, right as my mother is fumbling with the laptop in front of her. She seems annoyed at Stefan’s arrival, surely because he was almost late, again. “We don’t have time for your tardiness, Stefan.” She hisses, looking at the clock on the wall.

  A dial tone rings out through the surround sound speakers in the study and multiple faces appear from the rest of the Clan members. Everything seems normal. Furrowed brows with curiosity as to why this meeting was called so urgently. And then I see her.

  Natasha Balan.

  Blood coating her cheek.

  Tears streaming in an effortless flow.

  “Anton Balan was murdered this morning in their home, execution style, in front of Natasha and their children,” My father clears his throat while he speaks, looking straight into the camera. “Natasha, I cannot express how much my heart aches for you in this trying time. We will get to the b
ottom of this, and I promise you vengeance will be served.”

  My throat tightens as I realize the magnitude of what’s happened.

  After a few years of peace, another war has just started.

  But who?

  Who would start this, and more importantly— why?

  Chapter One

  Stefan

  No. This can’t be.

  “What kind of joke is this?!” I snarl, standing up from my seat with my hands white knuckling the table. Anton Balan is one of my best friends. This can’t be. This can’t fucking be real!

  “Stefan, sit down.” Mariana’s tone is laced with callousness, showing me right now how this isn’t a joke.

  I shake my head while shock takes over my body. I take a few steps back, rendered speechless. We’ve been fine for years now. No issues. No enemies. Fuck. I knew it was too good to be true! Heaviness expands through my core and floaters swarm through my vision.

  I need to sit down.

  I know I need to and yet I can’t bear the thought of staying still. “Sit down, my friend. I know he was very close with you. Especially after Presley’s passing,” Mikel speaks up, offering me a comfort only he would know how.

  “It must’ve been the Italians, right?” Rhys, the Clan head in the Ukraine speaks up.

  Ion shrugs his shoulders, “I wish it were that easy to point fingers, but it isn’t. We’ve had no problems since Gabriele and Giovanni were killed.”

  A few years ago we had a huge issue with the Italian mafia. The only way it was resolved was by bloodshed. When everything went down we assumed we’d have an all out war with the Italians, but that wasn’t the case. Lorenzo DiGiovanni was next in line for the throne after his older brother’s death and instead of more bloodshed, he only wanted a truce. One which Mariana and Ion happily obliged.

  I glance to Bianca for a split second, careful to not my eyes linger for too long. We’ve become professionals at hiding our relationship, or arrangement, whatever you want to call it. There isn’t any label on what we are, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have feelings for her. We’ve been doing this for so long, and there comes a point where you can’t help but care for the person you’re sleeping with. If anyone tells you differently, they’re flat out liars.

  Looking at Natasha on the screen, she’s broken. A shell. A null void. But how can I blame her? She watched her husband be killed in her home, which is a sick, twisted form of karma considering what he did to her uncle many, many years ago.

  “I want you to find the man who killed my husband, and I want you to make him suffer tremendously.” Natasha states with a stutter.

  “We will. I promise you, we will.” Mariana declares.

  “My children have lost their father in the most unimaginable way possible. This was cruel, Mariana. I need you to do this soon, because I won’t wait. I will use every resource I have to find this monster and end his life. Nina, Simion, Liana, and Cristofor deserve better. I didn’t want them to see the cruelty of the world, and then this happened, in our own home.” Natasha cries.

  Fuck. I wish she were here. I wish she was here so I could be her shoulder to cry on and offer some sort of comfort.

  “I will find who did this,” I declare, meaning every word of it.

  “Stefan,” Natasha cries out my name, before clearing her throat and speaking again. “I need you to imagine if this was Presley’s killer. This is how much we need you to find the man responsible.”

  I nod, understanding what she’s asking. I’m going to put every resource into finding this person. Whatever it fucking takes.

  My eyes linger back over to Bianca who stares into the screen of the computer. I don’t know why, but the thought of her being hurt shoots through my mind. A thought I can’t bear. Something I never want to happen.

  I’ve already lost one love, and fuck, I’ll never lose another.

  Chapter Two

  Bianca

  I’ve been part of many Clan meetings, but I don’t remember one being as difficult as this. I sat at the head of the table beside my father, across from my mother, and watched as a woman lost the one person she held dear today. She explained the way a group of men came into their home with ski masks over their faces, leather gloves on their hands, carrying baseball bats and guns.

  She doesn’t know how they got past their guards, but it doesn’t matter much now. The only thing that does is keeping Natasha and her four children safe. Which is why my father is flying them out to Montana to get away for a while. We have allies there, specifically the Reapers MC. He said something about calling their charter president, Zane, and asking him to spare a few men to keep guard over them while we begin looking into what transpired this morning.

  My mother took over the meeting after a certain point. One that I can’t really remember.

  Natasha’s description of what happened was so vivid I saw it playing in my mind like a movie. Like a horrible, gore filled movie. She explained the way Simion tried to interfere, tried to save his father and one of the men beat him with a bat until he was coughing blood. They had a doctor look at him and he’s very lucky. The doctor advised against travelling, but we have no choice. Keeping our people safe is our number one priority.

  The Salas left, but the Lungus have stuck around and are chatting with Stefan in the corner of the room. I still stay seated where I was during the meeting, processing all of this. All of this that I wish I didn’t fucking have to.

  “Bianca, can you and I chat? I’ve been trying to talk to you about this for a few days, but we keep missing one another.” My mother says, placing a hand over mine.

  I nod, not really sure as to what I’m getting myself into. “Sure. What’s up?”

  She sucks in a deep breath and releases a sigh before she speaks, “This is horrible timing and I know that, but we’ve run out of time, Bianca. I can’t give you anymore. Your father has been pressuring me to have this conversation with you, considering you’re twenty-one now.”

  She’d better not be going where I think she is. “Don’t even say it.”

  She gives me a knowing look, blinking a few times. “You knew this day was coming. You’re a mafia princess, Bianca. All of you get married. It’s simply how things are done.”

  “Oh? And who have you decided is fit to be my husband?” I mock her, growing irritated by the moment. In this day and age arranged marriages shouldn’t even be a thing.

  “Mircea Lazar. He comes from a great Romanian family. A well respected one.” She’s so quick to jump to the man’s defense.

  “Lazar. The same Lazar boy who bullied me when I was little?” Okay, this so isn’t going to happen.

  My mother furrows her brows, “Did he bully you? I don’t recall that.”

  “You don’t remember the boy who put fluff in my hair? He was the reason my whole head had to be shaved when I was nine, Mom. Jesus.”

  She cackles, “Oh, yes. Now I remember. Yep, that would be him.”

  “Over my dead body.”

  “Bianca, don’t make a scene. This is something many women have done generations before you. Hell, and at least I’m not making a decision for you.”

  “You literally already have.”

  “This isn’t the way I was promised to your father. You have a choice.”

  “That is such bullshit and you know it. You’re only giving me a heads up so I can make the choice to fall in love with this perfect Romanian boy, right? One who I happen to remember was quite fucking foul to me as a child.”

  “Bianca—,” My mother starts to speak, but quickly closes her mouth. Her eyes dart toward the door and I spot a man who must be in his mid-twenties, with strikingly dark hair. He’s wearing a striped, fitted suit with oxford shoes. His entire essence screams money.

  I see, a rich Romanian man.

  Not impressed.

  “No, and I mean it.” I grumble.

  She has no clue how much I mean it, either. Marriage has never been a must have for me. If it happens, gre
at . . . but I’ve seen so many people get torn apart after they get married. It seems like a waste of time.

  “Come with me, little girl.” My father grabs my forearm and tugs me out of my chair, pulling me off to the side of the room. He keeps his voice low, though anyone here can see we’re both obviously heated.

  “I said no.”

  “I didn’t ask for your opinion. Now I am telling you this would be an amazing union.”

  “I am not a fucking child!” I hiss, rather loudly. I don’t give a damn if people are looking at us. They’re in our home, so again, they can suck it. “Things aren’t done the way they were back in the 18, or even 1900s. This is a modern time, and I’m not some woman who can be passed to a man with a promise of a goat.”

  My father belts out a laugh, “I promise you, you’re worth more than a goat.”

  “Fuck you, and fuck you even more for thinking this is funny.”

  My father has never been the type to tolerate disrespect, even from his own daughter. His typical ivory skin flushes with red and I know he’s thinking about striking me, of making me an example . . . but he won’t, because he knows better.

  “You will marry who your mother and I decide is a good fit for you.” He grits.

  “No, I won’t.” I stand firm in my decision, metaphorically digging my heels in the ground.

  “Why not?!” He snaps.