The Wedding Debt (Underworld Kings)

“Anne. I think your son should hear this from your mouth,” she says, directing her attention toward the couple sitting on the couch. Anne and Lex, Liam and Luca’s parents, look at us, and for some reason, I feel like running away.

Anne gets up and walks toward us, folding her arms just like Mom has. And it has the four of us cowering in front of them.

“None of you should be fighting,” Anne says. “Or talking about marriage.”

“But Luca stole—”

“I don’t care what he did, Jill,” my mom interjects. “You will not fight with these boys. Is that understood?”

I lower my eyes, but the need to rebel still slips into my voice as I grind my teeth. “Yes, Mom.”

“We were just playing around,” Luca mutters.

“Luca.” His mother throws him a deadly look.

Liam and Jasmine are smart enough to keep their mouths shut. We only seem to make it worse.

“Playing or not … there will be no talk of marriage, understood?” Anne responds.

“Same for you, young ladies,” my mom adds, throwing Jasmine and me a look.

I frown. Why do they care so much? “Why not?”

“Because the only one who decides who you two will marry …” My father’s voice fills the house, bringing goose bumps to my skin, every one of his steps as loud as his voice as he approaches us. “Is me.”

My lips part, but I have nothing to say. Not because I don’t want to, but because it feels like my voice has been stolen away from me.

I may not be a real princess, but sometimes, I do feel like one.

All locked up in a tower of my parents’ making.

And Luca De Vos is waiting for his chance to come and be the cruel prince who rescues me.

Over my dead body.

Chapter 2

Luca

Age 12

* * *

The dead body on the floor doesn’t faze me anymore.

I’ve seen plenty before on our trips downtown when my father’s men had to kill someone, and he made my brother and me watch.

The only thing that’s got me silent now is the fact that the person holding the gun is my own father.

He always said these were dirty chores best left to our men. But I also know the rules can always be broken, particularly by us.

And especially when it’s to save one of our own.

My brother crawls up from the ground, bloodied, wounded. There are cuts all over his back, sharp, like those from a knife. A guard supports him while my dad kills the people in this warehouse one by one until no one is left but us.

When he comes back, he sighs and cleans his gun. The silence is deafening.

“Sorry,” my brother says.

Even though he’s the one who got hurt.

“Don’t ever come out here and try to do my business by yourself again.”

“Yes, Dad.” Liam can’t even look at him.

It’s his fault we’re here. Dad had to come save him after he tried to run off and prove how strong he is and that he’s old enough.

“I get that you want more responsibility, Liam, but now you understand why I’m still the one who runs the show.” He tucks his gun away and looks at us. When his hand drops on both my brother’s and my shoulder, I’m knocked back into the moment.

“But your enthusiasm doesn’t go unnoticed. I’ll bring you two along for my daily trips around the city from now on so you can get a feel for how the business is really run.” He pats Liam a few times. “You okay, son?”

Liam nods even though I’m sure all those wounds must hurt like hell.

Pain is for the weak. At least, that’s what Dad says, and I believe him.

After all, Liam is still alive. These men who tried to hurt him are not.

“Good. We’ll get the doc to check you out once we get home,” he says. “Now, hold out your hands. Both of you.”

I do what he asks while throwing glances at my brother, wondering what the fuck is going on.

Dad pushes something into our hands. A gold-plated knife with markings on it.

“Keep that on you at all times. Use it when you need to.”

I swallow at the thought of slicing through someone the same way they tried to slice through my brother. Not because it scares me … but because it excites me.

And I can’t fucking wait to put this thing to good use.

Age 14

* * *

Another boring day, another boring party somewhere in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of people I don’t know and don’t want to know either. I grab a stick off the ground and sway it around in the grass, chopping it up while I pretend I’m fighting rivals of our family.

All that yapping at the party distracts me from my game. Ever since we moved to the Netherlands, it’s been nothing but business, and I’m bored as hell.