The Syndicates: A Dark Mafia Romance Collection

by Raven Scott

  But she knew dying was her best option, and I was kind of disappointed when he just sunk so low in her chair. Piss dribbled on the floor, the disgusting reek of shit pluming all around her, and I walked out before handing Theo his gun back.

  “Guard the door.” Carl waited patiently, a huge toolbox by his feet, and I nodded curtly at him. “Weld it shut.”

  28

  Carlyle

  Leaning back in my chair, I ran my hand over my head as my father and brothers waded into the room. I could tell just from a glance that they knew something was up, and I honestly enjoyed watching them squirm— well, not my father. He never squirmed.

  Oran probably had the best picture of them all, and I’d taken all night to figure out how I wanted to approach this. My eldest younger brother had his kittens, and he gave them a fair amount of trust. Granted, he supposedly thoroughly ensured they were completely and utterly helpless by that time. Of course, Mateo’s little problem had been rectified, so he was out.

  Illya slipped into the room behind them to stand next to Theo, and I drummed my fingertips on my desk as I gazed at the four of them. Despite what she said, she hadn’t made any friends with anyone since coming here. It was a telltale indicator she wasn’t as ‘good’ as she pretended to be.

  This was going to be hard on her.

  “I’ve decided to let the Italian problem go for now. We have a bigger issue to deal with.” I’d been working on this a long time, well over a year now, and Oran opened his mouth only to pause when I held up my hand. “I said ‘I have decided’ not ‘this is open to debate, but . . . ’, so allow me to continue before you start screeching.”

  I let the silence stretch right to the cusp of discomfort before nodding, and I sat up to take a breath in preparation.

  “I wondered about it at the time, but never got a real answer. How could a woman get you to fall in love with her, Mateo? Of course, money is a motivator, and that thing certainly had some need for it, if what I understand is true.” Illya pulled an uncomfortable face at my words, but Theo grabbed her arm to stop her from sinking back. “I’ve thought about it a lot, and while it’s not entirely unreasonable, you’re stupid enough to get a random pregnant, you were very torn up about its passing.”

  “You made me kill her.” Mateo’s snarl wasn’t nearly as nasty as he thought, and I held up a hand quickly to silence him.

  “The details don’t matter. The point is that you fell hook, line, and sinker for it in a very short amount of time. You were in California for a while, and yet, it wasn’t until late last year that your whirlwind romance happened. While I’m all for young love, life doesn’t work like that. So . . . ” Clapping my palms on the desk, I stood up to stare my youngest brother in his haggard, drawn face, and I had to actively fight back a smirk. “Was it your money it was after, or did someone pay it to like you? Honestly, the second option there seems far more likely.”

  “You’re an asshole, Carlyle.” My eyelid twitched at Mateo’s grumble, my lip curling up instead of out, and he visibly shrunk. “So, what’s your point?”

  “My point is that my darling Isobel and her idiot brother knew Dad was going to hand me ownership of everything, and I certainly didn’t tell them.” My gaze flickered to Oran to narrow, and I stood up straight as the cogs worked behind his hazel eyes. “One of you bought an Italian slut sent to spy on you.”

  “Even if she was working for the Italians, she’s dead. What’s that got to do with not taking them over?” Even now, after knowing how stupid and impractical he was, Mateo still sounded incredibly sad, and I rolled my eyes at him.

  “You really haven’t learned anything, have you? You didn’t even know about my promotion, Mateo, which just leaves . . . ” Training my gaze on Oran, I stalked around my desk, and he tensed as his expression washed in stone. “Where are your whores now, Oran?”

  “In case you didn’t remember, I properly break them, and if they don’t pass, I put them down myself.”

  “Oh, I remember. Even if it was one of your kittens, you’ve been living in England and have too much jealousy over me to go to the Italians, of all people— you know just as well as I do that they can’t get the job done.” I really, really, really enjoyed the confusion in the room right now, and I smirked at the irritation on Oran’s face. “I don’t think you’ve quite broken them as hard as you thought, Oran. That thing Mateo got pregnant was probably contacted by Isobel. Since it’s only fair, put all your kittens down.”

  Oran paled, and for a brief second, I saw how much it pained him to contemplate what I’d demanded. Money aside, he loved his kittens in some fucked up way, but now was not the time to fight for their rights to live. He nodded, raking his hand through his perfectly styled hair, and I thought for a moment that his glasses fogged up.

  “Illya.” Turning to her, I pursed my lips thinly, and Illya looked ready to just throw down. “I need you to prove your loyalty to me. Considering that thing was your friend, I can’t rule you out as a possibility.”

  “Fine.” Croaking harshly, she had to physically pry Theo’s hand off her finger by clawing finger, and a thick bruise was already budding on her wrist. She pushed back her hair, her chin jutting out and determination glimmering in her bright, green eyes even as she gulped nervously. “What do you want me to do?”

  Just at that moment, Carl popped open the door and wheeled in a sizeable box with just one item on it. The pliers were brand new, never been opened until today, and all eyes turned to him as he shuffled through the crowd. Theo sucked in a sharp breath, but I ignored him, glaring daggers at me to watch Illya’s birdlike features twist.

  “Pick a limb— hand or foot.” This time, the demand rolled heavily off my tongue, and she shuddered noticeably as my brothers and father moved to the corner of the room. “You only have to do one.”

  “That’s so dumb. Of course, I’m gonna do my foot, you . . . you . . . you asshole.” I let that slide as she sputtered wildly, her nerves stringing her voice like a bad violin. Kicking off her sneaker and yanking her sock, she straightened her shoulders before glaring me in the eye. “Theo leaves.”

  “Fine.” Theo might actually kill me if he stays, anyway. He started hyperventilating the way a bull did right before bursting from the pen, and the veins bulged around the reddening scars on his face. His teeth ground loud enough to hear, and I almost grabbed the phone on my desk to call for someone to escort him out.

  “I’m gonna kill you one day.” A sliver of fear struck me right between the eyes at his whisper— not a growl, not a snarl, but a very, very quiet, very shaky whisper. Theo shuffled out, his shoulders trembling, the back of a broken man.

  For the first time, I realized how much it must suck to be in a relationship in which both participants work for me.

  “Why did you chose this?” Snapping from the empty doorway, my gaze narrowed on Illya as she folded and worked her hands. “If it was about the pain, you could just poke me in the tit, and it’d be worse.”

  “I don’t want your pain, Illya. I want proof. I believe wholeheartedly, you had nothing to do with that thing or any of this, but you know that’s not enough. I can’t have anyone question my employees. Just like Oran, I’m telling you to do something that will be very difficult on you, something that goes against everything you are. There’s nothing I can do that’ll cause you more pain than you’re constantly in. It’d be stupid to ask you to do anything else, too, because I need you for your looks. You need all your fingers, so I can’t just cut one-off.” Everything Illya had been through had been of someone else's making, and she’d fought so hard to getaway. Now, she’d have no choice but to inflict damage on herself. As someone who put self-preservation above all, it was the worst thing I could demand of her.

  She gulped, her slender neck flexing before she nodded firmly, and Illya put her foot on the box to grab the pliers in trembling hands. The ribs gripped her toenail, and my stomach roiled at the sudden calm that lightened the atmosphere. Flexing her unstable gri
p on the tool, she gathered up her hair sloppily, and my brows rose when she punched herself in the upper abdomen.

  Illya jerked her toenail off as a bloodcurdling, gurgled cry filled the room and echoed out the open door. She turned green, body heaving as her skin instantly slicked with a cold sweat. Nothing I’d ever seen was as horrific as this, but determination still defined her thin brows as she wiped away her tears. Blood seeped from her toe as she moved onto the next one, and she took a loud, rattling breath before ripping out that nail by the root.

  I didn’t do the disservice of looking away, and Illya went through all five toes before dropping the pliers with a loud clatter. She didn’t collapse like I’d expected, flipping her hair even as it stuck to her face to glare at me. Tilting my head in acceptance, I clenched my jaw hard as she wobbled out, and the whole complex seemed to shudder when she leaned hard against the wall out of sight.

  “Oran, bring all of them here. I’m going to watch you do the job to make sure you don’t try to hide one.” Glancing at my brother as he nodded, defeated, I scanned my brother standing, solemn, on one side of my office. “From now on, if you go against me, I won’t look the other way. You can pull that shit with Dad, but not me.”

  Again, Oran nodded, the muscles in his arms straining as he clenched and released his fists in his pants pockets. Flickering to Mateo, my eyes narrowed into slits, and he looked about ready to throw up. Maybe, I’d been wrong, and letting my father take his reins was a mistake.

  “You’re being sent to the city. I’ll give you the details when you get there. Fuck it up, and I’ll kill you myself, Mateo. I no longer have the time or inclination to deal with you. I’m not cleaning up your messes anymore.” Flicking my wrist at the door, both my brothers shuffled out quietly, and I sat up on my desk to run my hands up my face. My dad closed the door behind him, and I was left alone with a ringing in my ears.

  29

  Valerie

  “What do you think of this, Fred?” Turning over my sketch pad, I propped my elbows on the table, and Fred grinned like a little boy seeing a lollipop he didn’t earn. “It’s just the sketch, so it can be changed.”

  “No . . . no, that’s perfect.” The kitchen table was a complete mess of papers, and I gazed over the spine of my book as Fred nodded firmly. “You’re a really talented horror illustrator. Did anyone ever tell you that?”

  “Not specifically. I just get told a lot that my stuff has dark undertones.” Pride bubbled in my chest when Fred’s smile widened, and Natasha sat back in her chair to groan loudly.

  “There’s so much to do. Who knew making an app like this was so difficult?” Marshal raised his hand, not bothering to look up from whatever he was reading on his tablet, and I opened my mouth only to get cut off by the doorbell ringing. Pushing myself up, I skirted the living room with a pep in my step, and I couldn’t be happier with the progress we were making. Sure, it was a lot of work, but that made it so much better.

  Not that Natasha ever appreciated hard work. She liked things easy.

  Opening the door, my brows rose when no one stood on the other side, and I stuck my head out of the threshold. A glimmer caught my eye and dragged my gaze downward, and a slight frown dragged down my lips.

  “Hey, Nat, did you drunk buy something online again?” Picking up the sizeable package, my frown deepened at the weight. “It’s pretty heavy— that means expensive!”

  “I haven’t gotten drunk in days. I’m saving myself for Vegas.” Puffing out my lips, I set the box on the sofa to be ignored for now, and I snuck my phone out of my jean pocket. “Maybe it’s a present from your boyfriend!”

  Huffing softly, I opened my unread text from Carlyle and rolled my lips between my teeth.

  Carlyle: I’m glad things are going well. After we get back, I’ll introduce you to your marketing director.

  Typing a quick reply, I wandered back into the kitchen to plop in my chair to sigh heavily. Either this project would go well, or it’d sink fast. We had to work to make it good, and my gaze flickered around the circular table. All I had to do was focus on concept art right now, but Fred had a clear vision of where he wanted this to go. He was a much better manager than Paul, and I licked my lips heavily.

  “So, I’ll just run with this for now, and we’ll make changes as we go along.” Nods all around, and I cleared my throat as I grabbed my sketchbook.

  “Don’t worry about anything but banging out il—” A shrill beep cut Fred off, and I twisted with confusion, scrunching up my nose under furrowed brows. Natasha and I shared a weird look. The beep wasn’t coming from the stove or any phone, and I stood up to follow the sound. Pulling my phone out, I unlocked the screen to tap Carlyle’s number as I drifted into the living room.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, you know, you could’ve just brought my present to me yourself. It would’ve meant a lot more.” Palpable confusion rose the hairs on my cheek, and I held my phone between my ear and shoulder. “What?”

  “I didn’t send you anything. What present?” The sharp edge of his voice stiffened my knees, and I pushed my hair back to hold my phone against my ear. “What is that sound in the background?”

  “You didn’t send it?” My gaze locked on the sofa, and dread curdled my blood as the beeping droned in my ear. “We didn’t buy anything online. Nat hasn’t drunk shopped in a while.”

  “Is there a return address?” Anxiety beaded my upper lip as I peeked over the back of the couch, and I shook my head before remembering Carlyle couldn’t see me. “Get out of the apartment, Valerie. I’ll be there in two minutes.”

  “What? Why?” Backing up as I posed the questions, I tensed as my thoughts stalled. “Oh fuck . . . is there, like, a bomb in the box or something!”

  “Valerie, shut the fuck up and get out, damnit!” I couldn’t hear anything but that beeping even as the air rippled against my back, and my legs locked as fear gripped my spine in a vice. “Fucking punch it, Carl!”

  “Oh fuck . . . oh my God . . . Carlyle . . . is there a bomb in the box? Oh shit . . . ” My eyes ached, and my lungs seized as I shook my head wildly. Suddenly, the beep went silent, and my heart throbbed from its furious pace. Blood drummed in my ears, and I choked on the lump in my throat when two hands grabbed my arms and yanked me back.

  Tile sent tendrils of frigid cold up my legs, and my grip on my phone tightened before a horrible boom rattled the very foundation of the apartment. Dust and smoke surged into the kitchen, and I crouched down to cover my head as a shriek burst from my throat. Ringing assaulted my ears, and my teeth trembled in their sockets from the ripples in the air.

  “Oh . . . shit, Valerie . . . hey . . . hey . . . ” Squeezing my eyes shut tighter, I barely registered Fred’s call even when he shook my shoulders. “It’s okay. It’s fine.”

  The sickening shattering of glass banged around in my skull, and I whipped around as the television mounted on the wall fell flat onto the floor. The sofa had been knocked back a few feet, at least, and I knocked back on my ass to scoot back.

  “What the fuck? What the fuck . . . fuck . . . fuck . . . ” There was a huge piece of wood blown out the back of the couch embedded in the floor where I’d just been standing. I was literally just standing there a second ago!

  “Hey, Val, look at me.” Grabbing my face between his palms, Fred seemed excruciatingly calm, and he nodded with a little, reassuring smile. “You’re alright. Let’s get out of here. Can you walk?”

  “I-I-I . . . ” A low groan cut off my stutter, and my eyes snapped to Natasha as she hoisted herself up onto her hands and knees. The table had been knocked over, and she pushed a chair off her to shake her head roughly. “Nat . . . Nat . . . oh, fuck!”

  Crawling over to her, I wrapped my arms around my sister as my tears spilled out, and she gripped me in a deadly bear hug. Wrapping my legs around her, I struggled to breathe in her grip, but I didn’t care because at least I could still do it.

  “Marshal . . . hey, Marshal, we gotta g
o, man.”

  “How can you be so fucking calm? We almost got blown up!” Aghast, Marshal practically screamed, and I winced at the high pitch, assaulting my ears. “Fuck, Fred!”

  “I worked for a comic book place, dude— those fans are really passionate and get really angry. We got threats and stuff all the time. It wasn’t that bad a blast— good thing she put it on the sofa.” Fred’s calm voice floated in and out of the ringing in my ears, and I shivered as Natasha cupped the back of my head. “Furniture saved Hitler’s life, you know.”

  “Valerie . . . ” Whimpering at the touch on my shoulder, I tightened my grip on my sister, and she on me. “It’s okay. It’s alright. You need to stand up, okay.”

  “N-no . . . I’m not moving.” The crackling of wood splintering ripped through my apartment, and the floor trembled from heavy, stomping feet.

  “Get the fuck out of the way.” My dazed mind couldn’t register the voice, and I tensed when powerful arms wrapped around both my sister and I and effortlessly hauled us off the floor. Two fingers gripped my hip, and I cracked my eyes open to find Theo’s dark, pissed off expression just inches from my face.

  Natasha hiccupped against my cheek, and I managed a strained inhale as my lungs screamed for oxygen. Blinking hard, I didn’t even wonder how hard it must've been to carry our combined weight down three flights of stairs, but that was all the time it took to breach the emergency exit. One blink and I was outside, with the sun on my face and sirens ringing in my ears.