Destructive King (Mafia Royals 3)

I reached for her; thank God she let me pull her against me. Her body shook as she spoke. “You draw them out…”

She smelled like smoke.

My fingers dug into her hair.

Someone was dying that day.

“Them?” Phoenix said in obvious interest. “And who are they? Do you know?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, I tried to turn her toward me, but she jerked away and then looked up to my dad. “Do you know?”

He was silent, his eyes guilty as hell.

“Do you?” Her voice was softer now. “Do you? Does he?” She pointed to Phoenix, who sighed heavily. “You do, right? It’s why you took me in?”

“Okay.” I was losing my mind. “Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“She was my target because of her adoptive dad.” Tank pulled out a chair and sat like he held the weight of the world on his shoulders. “He was a De Lange recruit; they adopted the orphans and wanted to brainwash them, train them against the other families.”

The very Family that we’d tried to flush out.

That wanted us dead more than anything just because they’d fucked up and been left with nothing.

My own dad, the executioner that went after their families all those years ago and cleansed the family lines only to grow a heart and let the kids live, make better choices, survive.

A mistake, people said.

Grace, he’d snapped back, a man broken and beaten, who still saw the value of human life despite the horror around him.

I’d heard the story a million times.

“You’re De Lange?” I couldn’t keep the hiss of pain out of my voice. Was history just repeating itself?

She lowered her head. “No. I’m—”

“She’s Sinacore,” Dad answered in a calm voice that had me ready to throw furniture. “Her father wanted to move up in the De Lange line… but they couldn’t get pregnant, so…”

Andrei’s eyes softened as much as they probably could as he took in the scene, she was related to him, and he never knew; she’d been threatened all this time, and he hadn’t protected her.

I knew that guilt well.

So. Well.

A tear slid down Annie’s cheek. “He whored out my mom to a Sinacore underboss… and she got pregnant. Only they fell in love, and my dad, he never forgave her for it and never forgave me for being born.” She fell into gut-wrenching sobs. “H-he killed her the day the men came and stole me from my house, and she said, she said…” My arms went around her as I held her tight, refusing to let her go despite our curious audience. “She said the only Family I could trust were the Abandonatos.”

Had the moon fallen from the sky?

The sun?

The stars?

In that moment, I couldn’t have moved as my brain replayed every single shitty thing I’d done to her, said to her, been to her.

My throat all but closed up.

She’d seen me as a hero.

And I’d been nothing but the villain.

I’d reveled in it.

I’d punished her.

“How old were you?” I rasped.

“Nine,” came her damning response. “He killed her, then killed himself, and Tank was undercover as a high school student next door. I didn’t know it then, but I was adopted or taken because of my bloodline; nobody wanted a girl that old. I was so excited to leave my life behind, and then—”

“Hell,” Tank finished. “Fucking. Hell.” He stood to his feet then. “They tortured those kids, they wanted information, but they were so young.” He slammed his fist onto the table. “The FBI did whatever they could to gain the protection those kids needed—your fucking protection.”

“And you’ve known?” I asked. “This whole time? Fuck how old are you?”

Tank shook his head. “Found out before I came here… the FBI thinks the horses are a way at getting back at the FBI for attempting to gain protection for the De Lange orphans.” He sighed. “And not as old as you think, regardless of what you think, I was a child prodigy when it came to math, was recruited sickeningly young by the government.” He swallowed. “Our best guess is they want to get even.”

“Shit,” Nixon said from his seat. “So they want retaliation?”

“We think so, yes,” Tank admitted sadly. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. Several of the De Lange Family are still living and went underground after we busted Annie’s family. Most of the kids that you know, that you’re training, were adopted under those pretenses. That’s why they’d die for you guys, they have nothing left, no protection, no family—and they’re pissed, all they wanted was love, and all they got was used.”

The door opened again as six of the De Lange recruits slowly walked in. Four guys, two girls.

The last remaining kids of the De Lange line, each of them had been training under us for the past year and a half—all of them made leaps and bounds as they swore their fealty to me—to the Family.