The Syndicates: A Dark Mafia Romance Collection

by Raven Scott

  “Y-you made me go to a different college because . . . ” Trailing off as my mind went blank, I leaned my head back against Natasha’s shoulder and closed my eyes. Her smell flooded my brain, and she hummed softly in my ear as she lifted the gun in my hand. Mine stayed hugging the grip, and her finger hooked on the trigger.

  “Life without you isn’t a life at all, Valerie. Together in the womb . . . ” Her palm flexed, and our free hands tangled together as I turned into Natasha’s neck. “Together in the tomb.”

  Bang!

  The gunshot was quieter than I expected, and the recoil of the pistol sent a shock up my arm as I squeezed my eyes shut tight. My heart stuttered, and my nails dug into Natasha’s hand and hers mine. The stench intensified, and saliva pooled in my mouth as bile sloshed up my throat.

  Doubling over at the mighty heaving of my stomach, I dropped the gun with an extraordinarily loud clatter, and my dry heaving echoed through the room.

  Or should I say mausoleum?

  Big hands that weren’t Natasha’s gathered up my hair, but nothing crawled up to slip off my tongue. Suddenly, I was really glad the only thing I’d eaten was ice cream and booze, and a long, slender arm wrapped under me to keep me off the ground.

  “You look surprised.” Above my ducked head, Natasha spoke blandly, and I gasped hoarsely and arched sharply. Tears dripped off my nose, and that gross taste spread across my tongue as cold droplets of sweat streamed between my breasts.

  “I honestly didn’t expect you to do that. You know, Natasha, you’re one badass bitch.” Colorful spots assaulted my vision when I shook my head, and I straightened, shivering and weak, to gasp for air. My sister took my cheeks in her cool hands to force me to look at her, and she smiled so beautifully even as she pressed her forehead against mine.

  “We got a lot of ice cream to eat and a lot of alcohol to drink, Valerie.” And we walked out, together, always together, leaving even Carlyle behind.

  38

  Carlyle

  Staring between the five people currently chained to the wall, I tapped my temple absently as I contemplated the best way to deal with them. Of course, the easy solution would be to just kill them, but I had revenge simmering in my blood. Dying was too quick and frankly not painful enough.

  “What to do . . . ” Valerie didn’t even know these men were here, so I had them all to myself to do whatever I wanted, and she’d never see the aftermath. Each thing was on its knees, hands bolted to the floor, necks viced, and asses in the air. When I set this up, I was pissed, but my clear-headedness presented me with a problem I hadn’t considered.

  Torture wasn’t my style—never had been. I thought I was angry enough to do it, but I guess not.

  “Good thing I have a girl on speed dial who enjoys this kind of thing.” My murmur filled the otherwise quiet room, and I glanced over at Vanessa as she glared at the captives with murder glowing in her eyes. “Let me know when you want a break.”

  “I won’t.” This was the problem with rape victims— there were far too many, and not enough justice went around. Vanessa was my secretary now, but she had actually been the one to come to me about being more . . . reactive. I had to admit she was scary when she wanted to be, and the husk in her tone told me this was one of those times.

  Standing up, I nodded to her on my way out as she tugged her ponytail a little tighter, and a strange, almost alien sensation draped my shoulders. Boredom.

  As I closed the heavy door, Vanessa’s gleeful giggle sent a shiver to lodge between my shoulder blades, and I pursed my lips thinly. She went a little nuts in situations like this, but they were so rare that I didn’t mind. Without her, things wouldn’t run nearly as smoothly as they do, and I was content to overlook her more psychopathic tendencies.

  “I thought Illya had a tough time following through with shit, but you take the cake, Carlyle.” For the first time since Illya took off her toenails, Theo spoke to me, and I arched a brow quizzically as I passed him. “I thought you wanted to personally sodomize them until they bleed out or whatever fucked up shit you think of.”

  “I may have let my anger get the best of me at the time.” My reply earned me silence, and I paused my way to the elevator to turn to Theo and catch his narrowed eye. “What?”

  “You say all the time how you’d kill me and blah, blah, fuck all, but I’ve never actually seen you do anything.” Rolling my eyes, I simply turned my back on him to punch the elevator button, and I stuffed my hands in my pockets. Growing up, my father made sure I knew how to fire a gun, and martial arts were so cool to a twelve-year-old boy, but like anyone else, I mostly used intimidation and fear of what might happen to maintain order.

  Like with Pedro . . . that dick. I’d never actually hurt him or even done anything at all to him, but he was still afraid of me. Was it the suit?

  “You know, Theo, you deserve a vacation.” Nodding to myself, I ignored the surprised gaze on my back as my brows furrowed deeply. “Take Illya and go somewhere.”

  “Why the fuck would I do that?” Tilting my head back, I huffed a sigh at the gruffness in his tone. Why would Theo do that?

  “I need to rework my Italian plan from scratch, as well as spend some uninterrupted time with Valerie. I’m not leaving this building for a while. You should take advantage of that. Illya would like it, I think.” The elevator pinged shrilly, the doors sliding apart as I spoke, and I stepped into the metal box with mixed feelings in my chest. Some shit was going to happen with Oran, and I honestly didn’t want Illya to get caught up in the middle of it.

  The very first night she was here, Oran had broken into Illya’s apartment. I knew about it, of course, but I hadn’t acted on it.

  That was going to change.

  “Is there something you’re not telling me?” Waving a hand in dismissal as the elevator worked its way up, I shook my head.

  “Even if I did have a secret, you’d probably be able to figure it out from the maids. Mainly, I’m going to bring all of Oran’s kittens here, and I’m going to give him a choice. Kill them all and prove his loyalty to me or walk away with them and never come back. If I can’t get rid of him, I’m going to break him. It starts with those whores.” Leaning on the wall, I gazed steadily at Theo as his brows worked over intelligent eyes. “I just needed a valid reason, but I’m not my father— I won’t tolerate his bullshit.”

  The box stopped moving, and I moved to step off the elevator to find my brother standing there, waiting. Clenching my jaw hard, I nodded at him to talk but didn’t slow my stride. Oran kept up with me, but I could feel the annoyance at how small and insignificant he thought I thought he was as if nothing he said had any value to me.

  “The snake is trying to leave, and also, the girls are here.” That made me pause mid-step, and I arched a brow at Oran as his lips thinned in his effort to stop me seeing how much this hurt him. “She’s outside trying to take the car they came in.”

  “Where’s Valerie?”

  “Drunk and passed out, at the moment, according to the maid who just went in to clean up after them. Natasha was puking at the time.” Nodding firmly, I rubbed my jaw in irritation. Esmarissa was really grinding down my nerves. She’d overstayed her welcome before she even got here, and I started off towards the stairwell leading to the quad. “Carlyle . . . ”

  Oran grabbed my forearm firmly, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I slowly cast my gaze on him. He didn’t let go, his face contorting in determination, and a wry smirk stretched my lips.

  “Do you honestly expect that anything you say will make me change my mind?” Oran was my brother, sure, but in name only. Both of them, the little shits, just weren’t people I wanted to be around, but he surprised me when he shook his head. “What, then, little brother?”

  “I want you to let me kill them. Please. They’re my responsibility, and I let my discipline slack.” In some fucked up way, this was Oran’s way of protecting these girls, and I nodded curtly. He knew how I liked to operate, to pla
y games, and let them squirm and wonder and hope, only to kill it all off at the last second. He took a shuddering, deep inhale, releasing my arm, and I pushed open the exit door to head down the hallway.

  “In a way, I am sorry for you, Oran. I think it might be time to reevaluate your relationships. Maybe, try monogamy? It’s easier when there’s only one to keep track of.” There was a deeper, darker reason behind my words— Oran so desperately wanted control, so he created it in a microcosm. I had two choices here, and he clearly intended to stick around a while, which sucked some major ass for me.

  But, even cockroaches were useful for some things.

  “Give me the damn keys! I’ve fucking had it with this place!” Esmarissa didn’t notice me immediately as she tried to wrest Carl’s keys, but he was much taller than her. She stomped her heel on the asphalt, the breeze of early autumn blasting through the tunnel created by the bridge that served as an exit. “God damnit, you tall bastard.”

  “What are you doing?” My words sliced through the mild sunlight and Esmarissa whipped around as I strode across the lot. “Did I tell you that you could leave?”

  “You know what, Carlyle? You can’t keep me here anymore. Whatever you planned on having me involved with, I’m not doing it.” Arching a brow, I cocked my head when she crossed her arms over her bust, and her scars shimmered between the shadows they made. “I’m going back to Nevada.”

  “Okay.” Holding out my hand to Theo, I took his gun and pointed it at her dog, and she tensed as horror blazed in her eyes. “Move a single fucking muscle towards that car.”

  The damn snake . . . I was so sick of her shit. She didn’t even blink, and I sighed heavily as I stalked towards Esmarissa. Her striking, blue hair seemed to fluff out as I got closer, and I held the gun on her dog as I grabbed her chin with my free hand.

  “Now.” Pressing the gun muzzle against her cheek, I relished Esmarissa whimper, the paleness of her cheeks, the fear in her eyes. “You have one chance left, Esmarissa. I am not in the habit of giving a third opportunity to those who repeatedly show they won’t fix their behavior. When I call, you come, and you stay until I tell you that you can leave. I gave you a grace period after you took over Katherin’s slut factory because I was being generous. Every time I give you an inch, you take a mile, and that is going to end right here . . . right now.”

  Putting a little pressure on her cheekbone, I licked my teeth when she whimpered and nodded hastily before stepping back. Handing Theo his gun, I rubbed my jaw and neck and rolled my shoulders to ease some of the tension there.

  I was entirely against animal cruelty, but if I had to threaten it, then so be it. Esmarissa never had to know that I wouldn’t actually shoot her dog, just that I considered it an option.

  The misery you know is better than the misery you don’t know.

  “You have good timing, at least. The reason you’re here is them.” Pointing at the car, I appreciated that Carl opened the door— it added to the dramatic effect that I liked to put on. Four girls of the same body type and color filed out, and at first glance, they didn’t look like what most people considered whores. They were all modestly dressed, with nice hair and clean faces, and truly not very trashy looking at all.

  “One of these is not like the others. It’s your job to tell me which one.”

  39

  Carlyle

  “I don’t recognize any of these girls, Carlyle. Do you know how many I see on a weekly? And that’s even considering she crossed my desk.” Folding my legs under me, I ignored Esmarissa’s exasperated complaining for the moment as I set my gaze on these girls. We’d traded the nice day and fresh air for concrete walls and a steel door. I’d been down in this basement far too often lately. On the other side of the wall, the pained cries and sobs of those men being tortured filtered through the thick concrete, and each of Oran’s sluts clearly knew something was up.

  Although, I could see the one looked a little more nervous than the others, trying too hard to seem just the right amount of worried and failing hard.

  “It doesn’t matter who did it, Carlyle. What’s the point of trying to find out?” Oran’s voice was deadpanned, and my eyes narrowed as they flickered between all the girls. The one he’d had the longest, probably the one he confided in the most, cast him a look, and I cocked my head. These girls were not stupid by any means, even if they were quite a bit over the line separating rubbing his feet and licking them.

  “There is no point that’ll matter in the end, Oran, but I still want to know . . . which one of you is a spy for the Italians.” All eyes were suddenly on me, and I clenched and released my jaw as three of the girls simultaneously jolted in shock. Training my gaze on the fourth, situated in the middle as if it’d help her blend in, I couldn’t help the malicious smirk stretching my lips. She went pale, a shiver jerking her shoulders, and her girlfriends’ eyes all moved to her in unison.

  “Roquelle. I bought her at an auction about two years ago.” It fit the timeline, and Oran’s voice dropped low with betrayal, although, I wasn’t sure what he expected. He screwed up these girls, who didn’t want to be sex slaves. He gave them good treatment, bonded with them— essentially, they were with him because of a particular form of Stockholm Syndrome. Nodding with a grunt, I glanced at my brother as his expression turned to stone to hide his realization.

  No matter how much he messed with them, these girls always had the ability to betray him.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her before. If she did come across my desk, I dismissed her.” Esmarissa’s input was nil, and Oran shuffled to his girls to very gingerly touch their cheeks one after another— but not Roquelle’s. His shoulders curled, his back showing what his face wouldn’t, and my heart ached for him. It must’ve been awful to be in a situation like this— that much, I recognized.

  But my brother did this to himself.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Whispering the question to the girl he was closest to, Oran caressed down her neck, and she noticeably gulped.

  “I told you I didn’t like her. I didn’t know why, so you dismissed it.” My brows twitched in surprise at that, and I frowned deeply as the nameless face twisted in sadness. “I don’t want to die for your mistake.”

  “I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.” Her sad smile widened slightly as Oran wrapped both his hands around her neck and rubbed her jaw with his thumbs. “I’m sorry.”

  “I hope you live a long, long time.” She leaned forward and kissed him, and my stomach roiled even as I refused to look away. Oran’s fingers flexed, and the soft sound of her breaths turned to wheezes as her face tinged pink. They stared each other right in the eyes the entire time, and only when her orbs rolled back did he snap her neck with a deft jerk.

  And she crumpled to the floor, the only sound in the room being her head smack against the concrete.

  My brother repeated the action three times, saving a shivering, crying Roquelle for last as she struggled to stand. The arteries and muscles in his neck bulged with his effort to contain himself, and Oran sniffed hard and loud as he rolled his shoulders.

  “It’s my fault, I know, but if you’d told me, we could’ve worked something out, and you would be able to live. They all could’ve lived.” Oran’s voice trembled, first with unfathomable sadness, but it slowly morphed into anger that rang in the concrete room. Across the wall, Vanessa’s gleeful giggles only added to the tense atmosphere, and I unfurled my legs to cross my ankles. Gripping the edge of the table as the world stilled, I clenched my jaw hard before Oran just . . . snapped.

  He backhanded the girl across the face so hard she fell over the body to her right, and the audible snap of bone echoed in my ears. She cried out, holding her face as she tumbled to the floor, and Oran straddled her to land punch after punch on her. Grunting with the effort, he heaved his whole body into the power behind his fists, and his rage radiated from him in palpable waves.

  Oran grabbed Roquelle’s head in both his palms to smash it
against the concrete, and his bloodcurdling, gut-wrenching scream could probably be heard all the way on the third floor. Her brains seeped out of her ears and between his fingers, the smell of her death mixing with the others in the room, but the stench of blood was all her. Solemn, silent, I watched him struggled to his feet only to fall back onto his knees before he pummeled her still chest.

  Turning to Esmarissa as she watched in horror, I frowned under furrowed brows as I contemplated what to do with her. If she became more of a problem, she’d very well end up down here, and I was going to make it explicitly clear.

  “Don’t ever get bratty with me again, or you’ll end up like her. The only difference is that I’ll do it myself.” She gulped, her blue hair shimmered when she nodded curtly, and I waved in dismissal. “Tell Carson I want all the dogs from his next litter. Leave, and you better make sure I don’t call you back.”

  “Yes, sir.” Very meekly, Esmarissa walked out, and I slid off the table to walk over to Oran. Theo and I grabbed his arms, and he panted viciously as we dragged him off what bloody bits remained of Roquelle’s head and chest.

  “Come on, little brother. We’ll give them a proper burial.” Knowing now that it truly and irrevocably was Oran’s fault, and that his little pets had tried to warn him, I actually felt a little bad. “Let’s go.”

  “N-no! No!” Oran’s glasses weren’t anywhere to be seen, and I nodded at Theo when he started thrashing and screaming. Holding an arm back, I waited for Theo to get Oran in a headlock, and it honestly wasn’t that hard. My brother wanted to get back to Roquelle, to make her completely unrecognizable as a human being, and he barely even swung at us. Flailing about, his tears streamed down his face, and he rasped hard pants through flared nostrils as spit and snot dribbled down his chin.