Ruthless Princess (Mafia Royals 1)

Because they were here.

At this school.

In our city.

The kids that were left alive.

When the mafia does a cleansing of a line, they’re supposed to kill every last soul, but instead, our fathers—the bosses—offered mercy.

And now, the kids had to pay for the fathers’ sins.

They had gone soft; they refused to kill innocent children, which would have been great, respectable even, but where did that leave us?

Here.

Our lives completely derailed because of them—and now I was paying for it along with my cousins.

I clenched my fists at my side.

It was never supposed to go down like this. We were never supposed to step into the picture until after college graduation.

Until after we got the partying and freedom out of our systems.

After swearing fealty at such a young age, we thought hey at least we have some freedom for a while—but the arrival of that white horse meant calling all of the kids back home. And no matter how many times I asked my dad why the second arrival of the cryptic message was enough for him to call us home, he simply shook his head and said because.

Right, as if that didn’t burn like hell.

Because?

We were teenagers.

Teenagers with plans.

Girlfriends.

Feelings.

And now all I felt was pain.

And most of it was because of her.

We walked side by side toward class. I looked down at my schedule and cursed. Why the hell was I in a junior-level history class?

Students gave us a wide berth as the five of us made our way down the narrow hall.

Me in front with Serena.

Ash in the middle with Claire.

And Izzy in the back.

I stopped in front of the classroom and barely kept my groan in when Serena did the same.

Not. Happening.

I could feel her hatred dripping off her like an expensive perfume. Her head snapped in my direction. “Must you stalk me?”

I sneered down at her. “Must you want me so much?”

Hurt flashed across her face before she recovered. She had never been good at hiding anything from me, least of all, her emotions, and in the end, her heart.

Mine. It had all been mine.

Until we were both forced to choose.

And choosing her—would have killed us all.

She had to know that.

She had to know what her dad would do to me, to us.

She had to know that my dad would have no choice.

That I would take those seven steps, and this time, it wouldn’t be an option.

I shoved past her and found a seat in the back, and by the time class started, she had recovered back to her bored resting bitch face and was furiously texting someone—probably Izzy— to tell her what a horrible human being I was.

Get in line, princess. Get in fucking line.

“Welcome to day one!” Professor Dick Face’s eyes roamed around the room, purposefully scanning over us even though I had a middle finger raised in greeting right along with Serena. Well, at least we could agree on something, pissing off the professors enough to scare them shitless. “If you’ll all log onto your blackboard app, we can go over this year’s syllabus.”

“Overjoyed,” I said under my breath.

“Do you mind?” Serena hissed. “I’m learning here.”

She literally had Snapchat open.

“Uh-huh.” I elbowed her side only to feel the steel of a knife against my dick.

I kept my smirk in and lost when we both locked eyes.

Shit, I knew that look.

And I knew what typically followed.

The best sex of my life.

“No,” I whispered hoarsely, even though I let my eyes freely roam over her tight leather skirt down to gorgeous legs that I wanted to lick my way up. “Hell no.”

I jerked in my seat and nearly impaled myself on her knife when her hand slid across the front of my jeans.

I gritted my teeth to keep from reacting, braced my hands on the table in front of me, and shook my head slowly as she kept touching, and I kept just responding. Because it was Serena, and eons ago before she fucking broke my heart—she was mine.

“Choose me,” I’d said in my head. “Choose me in front of them all!”

She didn’t.

She never would.

Our love was impossible.

And I knew more than her—how easy love could start a war.

She still wasn’t pulling her hand away, so I took matters into my own hands, and scooted my chair back, then slid my fingers up her thigh, digging into her skin the entire way up until I felt the string of her thong.

With a jerk, I tugged it until it broke, bunched her underwear in my hands, and then very somberly shoved them into my pocket all without looking away from my handy app.

“Give those back,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Better not draw attention to us,” I said in a bored tone. “Wouldn’t want you to get detention on the first day—again.”

“That was voluntary, and you know it!” she hissed.