Scandalous Prince (Mafia Royals 2)

“I hate you,” she mouthed right back.

Well. It was worth a shot.

Pain pounded in my back, and now my skull felt like it was on fire as Andrei kept talking.

“Breaker has had full knowledge of his destiny since he could walk. You see, I’m the one who tried to kill him all those years ago—” He winked. “So sorry about that, by the way.”

“No, you aren’t.” I rolled my eyes. “You literally set my house on fire, but sure, you’re sorry. My mom died. But that’s on me,” I said gruffly. “Not you.”

“Phoenix found out about my plan because he knows too much and likes to check up on all of us. Trust me, he has trackers on all of you and friends in every high and low place.”

“I think that was a compliment.” Phoenix clicked his glass against Andrei’s. “All I saw was a scared little boy who thought he killed his mom and had nowhere to go, a boy that would be a target until he was able to fight back or take back what was stolen.” He eyed Andrei. “I took him in, gave him a new life, and the protection of Tex’s Family until it was time. The plan was to wait until he finished college and then let him slowly take the Family back.”

“Until I rose from the dead,” I whispered, staring into my wine glass. “Until that night when Violet was threatened, when she was going to suffer at the hands—” My voice cracked. “I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t just stand there and let them hurt her. One of the guys started taking off his jacket, and I just lost it. She’s my best friend,” I rasped. “Was my best friend. I would do anything for her, and I knew there was a chance that they’d demand this, but I did it anyway.” I raised my head and locked eyes with Chase. “I went into that room with her. She was blindfolded, she was so brave. She asked for my name.” I swallowed, throat dry. “So, I told her my real name, Valerian Petrov. They were watching on the cameras. They demanded my identity, and after proving it—” I lifted my left hand where the tattoo stained my finger. “I tried to fake it, but one of these assholes came in and showed me his phone. A gun was trained on Chase, Luc, and Ariel at the Christmas party while he danced with Luc, a gun was trained on Andrei, a gun was basically trained on me. I had three minutes left, so once he was out of the room, I panicked. And Violet, perfect Violet, so calm and innocent, told me she forgave me before I even sinned. I took her virginity in a club while my own people watched, and I’ll live with that for the rest of my life.”

Chase slammed his hands onto the table and stood, his head was lowered. “And now? What are you now?”

“Married,” I whispered. “Because word of Valerian Petrov reached Seattle and they said if I didn’t take my rightful place and bring my Italian bride with me, the alliance with the Italians, despite what Andrei said, would be null. And Phoenix was right. Breaker had to die so Valerian could live, so all of you could live.” I stood. “So, if you want to kill me, kill me, but I would do it again and again, make those choices, even if it means you look at me like I betrayed you. When I was ten, you invited me into your family. Trust me when I say, killing off the son, cousin, friend you loved, was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, but love sometimes asks us to die.” I jerked my head toward the clock. “You’re going to be late. Bury me well.”

I couldn’t take it anymore.

I left the table.

I walked on wooden legs toward the basement door, stripping off my shirt and dropping it on the stairs, then stepped into the middle of the sparring ring, fell to my knees, and screamed.

Chapter Twenty-Five

In sickness and in health, in death and in life, but what about purgatory, darkness as they drive the knife. —Valerian Petrov

Violet

As far as funerals went, it was uneventful compared to the scene back at the house.

I mourned him while Junior gave the eulogy.

I cried when asked to put a flower on the casket.

I was inconsolable when I looked at the picture of him, so vastly different from how he looked now. I had so many questions, but I was afraid that by asking him, I’d fall in love with him all over again—and he didn’t deserve that love.

All of this could have been avoided if he’d just told me.

I would have run away with him.

But deep inside, part of me asked… at what cost? My dad would have killed him, disowned me, we both would have been in constant danger. But our love would have sustained us, right? Was that just my innocence speaking?