Ruthless Prince (Dark Syndicate 1)

I know he feels the same guilt that surrounds us. We all blame ourselves for not being able to save her. As Pa casts the flower into the grave, Father De Lucca says a prayer and Grandfather takes my brothers to give Ma their flowers.

I remain where I am. I can’t will myself to move. I can’t say goodbye yet. I don’t want to say goodbye at all.

I know what will happen next. We’ll leave and they’ll fill the grave with the rest of the dirt. Covering Ma up forever. My legs tremble at the thought and that weakness returns to my body.

People start throwing in their flowers too, one by one. Some look at me, others just follow suit dropping their roses: lilies, dahlia’s. Ma’s favorites.

I’ve been holding on to the rose in my hand so tightly the thorns have cut my palms. I almost forgot I had it. I look down at the stains of blood on the stem and leaves. The rich crimson color stark against the dark green.

A heavy hand rests on my shoulder, startling me. When I look up, I find myself staring straight into the pale blue eyes of the devil. The man who took everything away from us.

Riccardo Balesteri. A man Pa used to call his best friend. That’s who we knew him to be before things changed and he became a monster.

Pa doesn’t involve us in business, but there was no one to shield us from anything that day two years ago when Riccardo came to our home with men and threw us out.

I didn’t know what happened, but I remember the arguing. I remember Pa pleading with him to be reasonable and Ma crying as she tried to get Dominic and Tristan out of bed. It was Andreas who took me and calmed me down when I tried to help. The men just laughed at me.

Now, this man is here at my mother’s funeral. With a smile on his face.

“Dear child, I’m so truly sorry for your loss,” he says.

His words are similar to what has been sa

id to me all day, starting when we entered the church this morning and as we arrived at the cemetery. Everyone who said it, though, meant it. They were genuine. This man is not.

The click-clack of what I know is a gun steals my answer. Not that I would know what to say. I haven’t spoken much since I found Ma in the river.

I look up to see Pa holding out two guns, aiming them at Riccardo. Grandfather places a protective arm around my brothers while the remaining guests stare on in terror.

The only person who doesn’t look scared is Father De Lucca. His face is stern and becomes harder when Riccardo tightens his grip on my shoulder.

“Get your hands off my son,” Pa demands, tilting his head to the side.

Riccardo laughs. The sound ripples through me. He squeezes my shoulder so hard I wince and my knees buckle.

“Giacomo, trust you to make a scene,” Riccardo answers in a sing-song voice.

“I said get your hands off my son. Now!” Pa shouts.

In answer to his demand, Riccardo applies more pressure to my shoulder. His fingers dig past the fabric of my suit and burrow into my skin.

“Let me go,” I growl, thrashing against his grasp. He’s too strong though. I’m helpless. I can’t do anything.

“So disrespectful at your wife’s funeral,” Riccardo taunts. “I wonder what Sariah would think if she wasn’t six feet under. Maybe the disappointment you are as a husband made her jump to her death. Yes, yes. That must be it. Maybe she preferred death to being with you.”

Enraged, Pa steps forward with his guns, but Riccardo retaliates by pulling his own, pulling me closer and placing the steel barrel to my temple.

I cry out, dropping my rose and gritting my teeth. That makes Pa stop in his tracks. His eyes widen with fright and my soul shivers with fear. This man is the devil. Pa always told me to never underestimate. It will get you killed. So, I won’t do it now. I won’t underestimate or assume that Riccardo won’t kill me.

Tears run down my cheeks when he smooths his hand up to my neck and holds me tighter.

“You fucking dog,” Pa shouts. He still has his guns raised though. “How dare you show up here today to gloat. Get your fucking hands off my son.”

Riccardo smiles and leans closer, close to my father’s outstretched guns, daring, as if he knows Pa won’t kill him.

“Look at you, thinking you’re hot shit. You can’t kill me. You know that.”

“Do you want to test me?” Pa snarls.