Fallen Royal (Mafia Royals 4)

Laughter bubbles out of me. “Medication? Are you tired of me doing all your dirty work for you? Are you tired of my precision killing? If you are, just say so, and I’ll stop.”

“Maksim.” A deep voice says. “Stop.”

“Sim, Sim, Sim.” I feel delirious, on the edge of a cliff. If I jump… I will really fly. No, not fly… soar. Soar with freedom. But I recognize both names, I recognize the voice, and all I can think about is the blood.

“Riddle me this, riddle me that.” I joke. “Sim took a shot and made her go splat.” I laugh so hard tears are coming down my cheeks. “She didn’t even see me coming; save me, save me!”

“SIM!” the voice says again.

I recognize it.

I want to respond, but I can’t stop laughing.

Suddenly the laughter turns into crying as my body starts to shiver from the cold in both arms. I’m biting down on something. Has it been there the whole time?

“What happened?” a soft voice asks, a female voice, one that I wish I could touch, one I want to taste. “What did you do to him?”

The room goes silent

“Yes, what did you fucking to do us?” Sim chuckles darkly.

I try to tell him to shut up, but I’m tired.

My mouth hurts from talking, from laughing, from crying. Sadly, as the cold spreads further, I realize that I’ve been talking this whole time.

I sit in silence, my heart slamming against my chest.

I am Maksim.

I am Sim.

I am broken.

I am fallen.

I am tired.

So tired that I can’t stop them this time.

The memories.

The choice.

The day.

That girl.

“Stay…” Izzy whispers against my mouth.

I chuckle. I can never get enough of this girl. She’s everything that’s perfect in this world.

Everything that’s perfect in my world.

I love her more than anything.

I don’t tell her how much because it terrifies me.

It doesn’t help that her dad, the notorious Chase Abandonato, looks like he’s ready to chop my appendages from my body on a daily basis, cook them into soup, then feed it to the pigs.

And yes, he has pigs.

Don’t ask; you really don’t want to know.

“I gotta go.” I kiss her again. She’s naked beneath me, all smooth skin and tempting paradise. My lips fall to her chest, kissing down until I have a nipple between my teeth. She’s so sensitive, so ready for me after an entire night of attempting to keep her screams quiet.

Thank God her dad isn’t home.

He’d kill me.

She’d wake up to a newly dug grave.

But damn, she’s mine.

She’s so worth it.

Where I’m hard, she’s soft.

Where I fight against every instinct bred into me and pretend she’s exactly who she says she is.

No smokescreens.

No gaslighting.

She’s just gorgeous, brilliant, Izzy.

Sometimes I feel guilty for keeping so much from her, but what the hell am I supposed to admit? That I’m petrified of turning in to my dad or… worse? That sometimes, I dream about ripping people’s hearts out and wrapping intestines around their bodies?

How sick is that?

I often wonder if something is wrong with me. Violence is expected in the mafia, but the sort of violence I think about, the sort of apocalyptic shit that goes through my head, like burying bodies in rugs under my house and smiling while I sit in a rocking chair over it… squeak, squeak, squeak, the rocking chair goes.

That’s next level The Hills Have Eyes shit, so keep it hidden. I don’t tell her about the dreams that should be nightmares but have me waking up with a smile on my face.

I don’t tell anyone about my sickness.

“I love you,” I whisper, pulling away one final time. “Try not to get into any trouble while I drive home.”

“Please.” She sits up, her dark hair cascades over her breasts, teasing me even more. “Like I could.”

“Uh-huh, heard that before.”

“You’re flushed.” She teases.

“And you’re naked.” I flick her thigh and then tug her down the bed and press my head between her legs. “Miss you…”

“Oh my gosh, stop!” She laughs and kicks at me.

“Nooooo, I’m having a moment; let me say goodbye.” I pin her body down. “Don’t wanna close my eyes, I don’t wanna fall asleep ‘cause I miss you—”

She laughs so hard she starts to cry. “You’re the worst!”

“I’m the best!” I announce, then press a wet kiss to her wetness and wink. “Try to sleep after that song dedication, I dare you.”

“Might be tough.” She moves to her side. “I don’t sleep well without you.”

“Good.” I put on my Lakers T-shirt and tug on my jeans, then grab my slides—not the best getaway shoes but whatever, it’s not like her parents are home. “Got a house to escape.”

“Stay safe,” she whispers. “And text me when you get home?”

I move and kiss her forehead. “Always. Sleep tight, princess.”

“Sleep tight, prince.” She shoves me. “Until my heart stops beating.”

I pause. She hasn’t said this to me in a while, and for some reason, it makes my steps falter as I repeat it back. “Until my heart stops beating.”