Broken Crown (Mafia Royals 5)

“Bring them to me.” His voice is a low whisper as Phoenix and Andrei slowly bring two men forward. They’re both bloody and beaten up pretty bad. Blood cakes their faces, and they look a bit older than the men holding them.

With a long sigh, King looks down. “Did they talk?”

“They were the ones who delivered the package; that’s all we got out of them.” Phoenix says.”

“Your call,” Andrei adds in.

Both men are looking at King to already make the heavy decisions, ones I know will weigh on his soul for an eternity—I want to stop him, I want him to run away. But I know this is his destiny which means it’s also mine.

King doesn’t even blink as he says. “If they’re of no use to us, then they’re of no use to the universe. Slit their throats.”

I hold my gasp in.

The rest of the room goes still.

Andrei holds out his hand as Maksim, his son, hands him a blade and, in two swift movements, slits both of their throats. Blood spills. And it’s suddenly over.

“Now clean up the bodies.” King stands to full attention. “Everyone is now suspect.”

I freeze.

He makes an announcement that I know we may never come back from and says, “From here on out. Everyone”—his eyes roam the room—“is now my enemy.”

Slowly doors open around the house, and men in suits come in. Some have FBI on their jackets; others are in black suits and look like the president’s personal security.

“Until we know who and why,” he announces in a strong voice, “everyone’s on house arrest. Hope you like fucking DoorDash.”

He grabs my hand as everyone gapes up at him like he’s lost his mind, and we start slowly walking down the stairs.

The group parts, I can see the rage on Ash’s face, Junior’s, the betrayal on Valerian’s, but I also understand it.

Because as of right now.

We’re living in our own version of dark Clue, where we have no idea who attempted to kill and no clue how to flesh them out.

We pass Phoenix and Andrei, who look way more relaxed than they should. They’re both drinking what looks like whiskey and talking in hushed voices.

I frown when King stops in front of them on the way to his dad’s old office. They both nod slowly, then open the doors and follow him in.

Nixon and Chase are next.

Sergio.

And then, to my shock, I see Valerian, Ash, Junior, and Tank go right behind them.

Basically, the most powerful men are all in one room.

And I have to wonder if that’s a good thing.

Or will it lead King to his doom?

I want to follow, but Serena grabs my arm and tugs me back, shaking her head slowly. “Let them talk.”

“But what if—”

She shakes her head again. “It wasn’t us. I know he knows that. Someone’s toying with the Families, but until we find out who, it’s best to make it look like he suspects one of our own.” She whispers in my ear, “Let him lead the way it needs to be; some things need to look… a certain way to find the mole.”

My chest gets tight. “You think there’s a mole?”

She blinks twice, slowly.

“Okay.” I sigh. “Okay, so what do we do until we can figure this out?”

“Hey, anyone want to play charades?” Tiffany shows up and does a little jig like the world isn’t actually exploding around us, then frowns. “What? I thought it would cheer everyone up?”

“God, Tiffany,” Roman says, coming up next to her. “Read the fucking room!”

“That’s what I got charades for,” she whispers back, then elbows him in the ribs, and I almost laugh as the rest of the wives disperse around the house; okay, let’s be honest, they all seem to be going into the kitchen busting out more wine bottles than I can count. The rest of the kids are getting herded into the movie room, and I’m left there wondering how this will end.

Will it end how it began?

In heartbreak?

Death?

Or can he fix it?

I look over at the office door and say a small prayer for him. He has to. And I believe he can.

Because he’s a superhero.

He’s a king of old.

He slays dragons.

He’ll find this one.

I just know it.

Because if I don’t have my belief in him, what do I even have?

Chapter Thirty-Four

“One day, a King will come, and the Sword will rise… again.”—Excalibur 1981

Roman

I hate this.

I hate how selfish I actually feel right now that while our Capo may never open his eyes again— I’m thinking of her, that all I can think about is my hands around her waist, and then weirdly, I imagine him with her.

King pressing his mouth to hers, a mouth that should be mine.

I’m so conflicted because I actually don’t hate him for being a fucking good leader. I just hate him for wanting what’s mine or what I thought was mine.