Ruthless Princess (Mafia Royals 1)

It meant my life was no longer mine.

But I’d known that from too young of an age.

I gave him a jerky nod and kicked off my shoes, then went over and grabbed a leftover hoody from one of the benches, so I didn’t flash boob at anyone.

With a deep breath, I crossed my arms. “Who wants to get their ass kicked first?”

Ash smirked and held up his fist. “Let’s go, little girl.”

I hopped into the ring.

And trembled when each of the bosses slowly gave me their back because, at the end of the day, they were parents first, bosses second, and their instincts were always to protect, never to harm.

But this wasn’t just their war anymore.

It was ours.

So, I held my head high and blew Ash a kiss. “Let’s see if you’re roundhouse has gotten any better.”

A choked laugh came from Junior as he stepped outside of the ring and watched.

The only rules?

Two minutes, no time outs, no killing, and blood must be shed.

Game. Freaking. On.

Chapter Eight

Junior

I wasn’t allowed to show emotion—so every single time Ash landed a blow to her perfect hateful face, I swear I cried on the inside, mourned the loss of her blemish-free lip, wept over the fact that she would never be the same after this. That the last remaining part of her soul that was still clinging to the dream of a life outside of this—would be crushed—and I would help do it.

I always wondered if Nixon would find an excuse, a way to get her out, and now… now we had no choice because she’d killed—for me. She’d done that for me regardless of what she said with her words, her eyes… her actions, they said it all.

Her words said I hate you, while her soul cried I can’t lose you.

I didn’t know how to digest both realities.

I didn’t know how to protect her and hurt her.

And that’s what I was going to have to do in another thirty seconds.

I gripped the machete.

Only one of us got a weapon.

So, when my dad handed it to me, I had to look excited that I was chosen when I wanted to run to the bathroom and hurl every last drop of vodka in my stomach.

Serena got a good punch in, causing Ash to stumble backward, but he had thirty pounds of muscle on her—both of us did.

We worked out to stay sane.

Where we were hard muscle and grit, she was soft and sexy.

Fuck.

The sound of bone cracking had my fingers turning white from gripping the machete so hard.

Ash had just broken two of her fingers.

She had to fight me with broken fingers.

The timer went off.

Ash handed her a towel then pulled her in for a hug. Blood mixed between them as he kissed her forehead with a bloody mouth and whispered. “Blood in, no out, welcome to the Family.”

“Blood in, no out,” she rasped, landing one more sucker punch to his shoulder that had him grinning, despite the fact that his mouth was bleeding.

At least she had gotten a few good hits in.

Ash left the mat, and it was my turn.

She was allowed to grab a weapon to fight me with, and I wasn’t surprised when she shimmied out of her leather pants far enough to grab a knife that was strapped to her thigh.

She wouldn’t be Serena if she weren’t carrying a knife.

I almost smiled as she struggled to pull her pants back on with her swollen hand,

And then I realized I had to fight her.

For two minutes.

She excelled in hand-to-hand combat.

But against me?

It was a joke.

“Ready spoiled princess?” My voice cracked.

“Yeah, jackass, come at me,” she taunted.

From his spot at the side of the ring, Ash chuckled.

She lunged first. I dodged the knife with ease and got a bit of her flesh as the machete went straight through her hoody. Blood dripped from her side down to the mat.

It was a deep cut.

A machete didn’t make shallow cuts.

I could chop off body parts.

She held her broken fingers to her side and lunged again. This time she caught me on the arm—and I let her.

Then she was kicking my feet out from under me, slamming me into the mat as she leaned over and hissed, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Fighting.” I gritted my teeth.

“No, you’re losing.” She shoved her knife into my right shoulder; it went in at least three inches. “I don’t go easy on you, don’t go easy on me.”

“So, you want to die?” I whispered.

“A problem?” Chase called.

I shoved her off of me. “No.”

“One minute left,” Ash shouted out.

“You want to bleed?” I clenched my jaw. “I’ll make it burn.”

“Bring it!” she yelled.

I went at her with the machete, hitting the back side of her arm before shoving her away, only to come at her again and make a slice down the front of her right thigh, the cut opened wide enough to show muscle.