Ruthless Heir: A Dark Mafia Romance (Ruthless Dynasty Book 1)
Ruthless Heir: Chapter 1

Present day…

“They’re ready for you.”

Uncle Maksim’s deep voice seeps through the thick protective wood of my bedroom door. His usually calm tone is laced with urgency.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. “You don’t want to go in my place?”

Looking over my shoulder, I raise my brow at Rian. The giant lion of a man is leaning against the wall by the door, intense blue eyes glaring down at his phone screen.

“Oh, I’ll be coming with you,” he smirks. Shaking away all of his troubles back home, he slips his phone into his pocket and turns to open my bedroom door. “Isn’t that right, Uncle Maks?”

“Your presence has indeed been requested,” Uncle Maksim nods. But his demeanour remains serious. Deadly serious. “You’re to advise your cousin on the matter at hand.”

Rian might be young enough to think all of this violence is good fun, but Uncle Maksim knows better. You can see it in his stony face.

None of this is meant to be enjoyed.

Not that there’s any chance I’m about to enjoy a second of it. I may be even younger than my mighty cousin, but I know just enough to understand how unprepared I truly am for all of this—even if I wish I wasn’t.

“I don’t need to be advised,” I stubbornly huff. Lifting myself off my bed, I suck in a deep breath and prepare myself for the shame to come.

“That shiny new scar over your eyebrow begs to differ,” Rian points out.

“Getting into one measly bar fight doesn’t suddenly make me useless,” I respond. “How many fights have you been in? A hundred? A thousand?”

“Enough to handle you,” he chuckles, turning his broad back to me.

There really isn’t anything I can do but reluctantly follow him into the hallway.

“It’s like being in high school all over again,” I mumble, quickening my pace to keep up with my two brutal chaperones.

“How many bar fights did you get into in high school?” Rian asks, never one to let anything I say go unchallenged.

“More than you,” I lie, desperate to keep up with my older cousin. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“Than what did you mean?”

“It’s this whole process,” I sigh. “The over-protective measures. The lockdown. The confinement. I’m an adult now. I’m supposed to be able to take care of myself. But suddenly, it’s like I’m sixteen again.”

“Your dad gave you way more freedom than this when you were sixteen,” Rian reminds me. “Hell, I remember visiting from out east and spending an entire night on Venice beach with you and Mel.”

“He didn’t always give me that much freedom,” I recall, a knot forming in my gut. “Didn’t I tell you about that time my high school closed down for like a month because they found the former principal hanging from the gymnasium rafters?”

“You might have mentioned it,” Rian shrugs, unbothered by the gruesome image. He’s witnessed far worse.

“Well, Dad did some digging and found out that he probably didn’t commit suicide,” I grumble. “But a murder on school property meant it wasn’t safe for his precious little princess anymore. It didn’t matter that I’d overheard descriptions of far worse shit just around this house; that we’re supposed to be this savage mob family, rulers of a brutal mafia empire. My fearsome father didn’t care. I was pulled out of school for the rest of the semester and put on house arrest for like two months.”

“Sounds like something you would have enjoyed,” Rian says. “Didn’t you hate school?”

He’s not wrong.

A chill stakes down my spine at the mere mention of my old school.

So many bad memories…

… And they all seem to stem from the appearance of one asshole.

“No. I enjoyed going out with friends,” I spit, suddenly angry at myself for daring to remember that bully—especially at a time like this. “I enjoyed being free. I enjoyed doing stupid shit like spending an entire night on a dirty, dangerous beach with my two rough and tumble east coast cousins.”

“That was fun, wasn’t it?”

“It was, until Uncle Aiden found out about it.”

“My father would have never found out if you didn’t let it slip at lunch the next day,” Rian returns.

“Will you never let that go?”

“Maybe for Christmas one year.”

Even through all of the overwhelming pressure that’s been weighing me down lately, I can’t help the little grin that lifts the corners of my lips.

“How generous.”

“Call me Rian Claus.”

“No, thank you.”

“Suit yourself,” Rian shrugs, purposely slowing down just enough that I absent-mindedly run into his mountainous back.

“Keep moving, bozo,” I say, giving him a push forward.

“Or what, you’re going to come after me with a broken bottle?”

“Well, now that I’ve gotten a little practice, maybe I’ll actually be able to draw some blood this time.”

“Wait, you didn’t even cut that asshole from the bar?”

Ahead, Uncle Maks silently plods along. I’m sure he’s listening—men like him always do. But I’m also certain he’s already been briefed on the whole story.

It’s why we’re heading downstairs, after all.

“I got one punch in before the bastard’s goons pulled me away. The broken bottle didn’t come into play until after it collided with my forehead.”

Together, we turn a corner. Then, suddenly, the air shifts. Just like that, the playful lightness floating around my cousin’s broad shoulders turns heavy. His shadow darkens. His fingers clench into fists.

“If I was there, it would have been a massacre,” he growls.

“Then, it’s probably better that you weren’t,” I note, my stomach twisting as I remember where we’re headed… and why. “Yesterday, I overheard some info on the incident. One of those frat boys was a senator’s son. You killing him would have opened up a world of chaos.”

“Is that why Uncle Ray hasn’t done anything about it yet?”

“Dad’s doing plenty,” I warn him. Rian might be a crown prince, the oldest son of the underworld king who rules all underworld kings, Aiden Kilpatrick, mafia royalty of the highest order, but right now, he’s on the west coast. That’s Byrne terrain. Here, Dad is boss. And there’s no room for dissention. Not even from family. “He’s doing this.” I say, nodding forward.

Rian knows all about the horrors currently playing out in the dark basement below our feet. He knows what we’re about to witness.

He knows Dad would never let a threat go unanswered.

But that doesn’t mean the two men always see eye-to-eye.

Reaching a familiar winding staircase, we begin our descent into hell.

The cellar.

I’m usually not allowed down there. But this is a special occasion—even if we’d all rather it wasn’t.

“I still wish I’d been there to fight beside you,” Rian huffs, but the thick darkness that had just engulfed him is already evaporating.

He’s too excited to stay angry.

“You could have been,” I point out. “But only if you’d had the foresight to cause all of that trouble back home a week earlier. Then you’d have been forced to flee to the west coast just in time to catch an invitation to that stupid bar.”

“As if I’d be caught dead in a college bar.”

When we reach the bottom of the staircase, I look to my left, towards one of the large Palladian windows that line the main floor. It’s too dark to see outside, but the black glass casts a perfect reflection.

The sight causes a soft sigh to flutter from my lips.

My new scar is even more pronounced than I feared. Red and loud, it slashes through my eyebrow like a lightning bolt.

“Shit.”

“It suits you,” Rian says.

His reflection is just as clear as my own, and I can see those intense blue eyes focus in on my half-healed wound.

“What suits me?” I ask, playing dumb.

“The scar. It’s about time you got one, I guess. Welcome to the mafia.”

“I’ve always been a part of the mafia,” I rebuff. “But that doesn’t mean I like being disfigured.”

“It makes you look like the villain you’ve always wanted to be.” Placing one of his giant hands on my shoulder, Rian leads me away from the window and back onto our path. “Maybe we’ll finally get you a tattoo next.”

“A tattoo would be fun,” I admit, trying my hardest not to lift a hand up to my throbbing scar. “But I never wanted to be a villain.”

“You’ve always wanted to be like us, Bianca,” Rian says. “You never hid it. We’re villains. It’s just how it is. Someday, you’ll learn to love it.”

“I already do,” I quickly correct him. “That’s why being on lockdown is so frustrating. I want to be out there, fighting with you. Going to that creep-filled bar was a huge mistake, but I don’t regret what I did. That douchebag was slipping pills into people’s drinks. I couldn’t just let that happen. It’s not how I was raised. I mean, even villains have codes… right?”

“Sure, but you’re not on lockdown because of the bar fight,” Rian is eager to remind me. “You’re on lockdown because of a far more serious matter, or have you forgotten about the kidnappings?”

“Attempted kidnappings…” I stubbornly try to correct him.

“No. Not all of them failed.”

That’s Uncle Maksim’s deep voice. Just up ahead, he’s stopped in front of the heavy metal door that leads down into the forbidden cellar.

Into hell.

“What?”

Suddenly, Rian has transformed again. But this time, it’s not just rage lifting his hackles.

It’s fear.

“Don’t worry, nephew. They didn’t take any of our people,” Maksim quickly assures him.

That drops Rian’s tensed shoulders a bit, but it doesn’t unclench his fists.

“Then who?”

“Yesterday, Congressmen Olsen’s daughter was successfully taken.” With a deep breath, Maksim pulls open the heavy cellar door, and a cold, metallic gust rushes up from the darkness below. “… We found her body this morning.”

The reality check is so harsh that neither Rian or I know how to react.

“Fuck.” Rian grumbles.

“But… But Congressman Olsen… he’s a politician. What does he have to do with us?” I try to reason. “Are you sure its connected?”

Maksim only nods. “He’s on our payroll. And now, he’s going to be on our asses to find the killers.”

“They still haven’t found out who was behind the attempts back east,” Rian whispers, his hand reaching into his pocket. “I was just talking to—”

“Is that the real reason I’m still on lockdown?” I interrupt, unable to keep the words from slipping out. It’s already been a week. Usually, shit gets figured out much faster around here.

“You were put on lockdown because of the attempted kidnappings in New York,” Uncle Maksim sighs. “Clearly, whoever is behind this was trying to start with easier targets. The Italian families may work for us, but they don’t have as many resources as we do. Some bastards must have taken them for easy practice.”

“And they still failed,” Rian barks.

“But only barely,” Maksim replies, steely eyed. “Two Italian princesses were nearly stolen in a matter of hours. And it was only by pure luck that the second one managed to escape.”

“You think the kidnappers got frustrated and decided to come out west and try an even easier target?”

“The coincidence is too glaring to ignore.”

“Fucking hell,” Rian growls. “Let me loose, Uncle. I’ll burn this entire fucking coast to the ground and bring you the charred remains of those responsible.”

“That’s exactly why we can’t let you loose,” Uncle Maksim replies “We don’t want a repeat of what happened back east; of what you did in Manhattan.”

“That was an accident.”

“I’m sure it was, but we can’t afford accidents right now, nephew. We have the blood of a sitting congressmen’s daughter on our hands. Even if we didn’t kill her, he’ll find a way to pin it on us if we don’t find the real culprits.”

“So, let me help.”

“No. Your duty is much more precious.”

Slowly, Uncle Maksim’s heavy eyes fall on me. The implication is clear, and Rian instantly understands. As do I.

“I’ll whip the bastards downstairs into shape,” my cousin nods, his back straightening as he accepts his responsibility.

Me.

“They’ve already been whipped into shape,” Uncle Maksim says. Turning his back on us, he slips through the open cellar door. “Your job will be to keep them in line.”

“Understood.”

Shutting our mouths, we follow Uncle Maksim down into the darkness. The further we descend, the more suffocating it all becomes.

This is worse than I thought.

Maybe I do need protection, after all…

By the time I finally see light up ahead, I realize that I’ve been holding my breath. My first exhale billows like smoke from my lips. A shiver crawls over my skin.

It’s freezing down here.

“Wait here,” Uncle Maksim orders, when we reach the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll go ahead to make sure everything is… proper.”

His footsteps echo through the frigid hall as he disappears ahead. A second later, the sound of another heavy door being opened fills the basement. In the distance, I hear an exchange of mumbles, then more footsteps. Soon, though, everything goes quiet.

“Do you smell that?” Rian asks. Turning his nose up, he sniffs the air.

I smell it too. Thin metallic strands of warmth that slither through the cold.

“Is that…”

“Blood.” He confirms. “The ritual is complete. The process has ended. Your bodyguards have been chosen. Now, it’s up to me to make sure none of the survivors are anywhere near as incompetent as your last brood.”

“They weren’t incompetent,” I hear myself whisper. “They were just busy flirting with some college girls.”

“That’s incompetence of the highest fucking degree,” Rian snaps, anger rising over him once again. “They were on the job. They should have only been worrying about you. But they failed at that. Now, they won’t have to worry about anything ever again.”

A bolt of dread lashes through me at Rian’s jarring words—that strong sting is closely followed by a wave of guilt. It’s the same red-hot guilt that I’ve been trying to supress ever since that night at the campus bar.

My bodyguards.

I wasn’t even thinking about them when I slipped out from under their protective circle. All I cared about was confronting those disgusting frat boys who were clearly slipping pills into people’s drinks.

If I was thinking straight, I would have ordered them to act for me. But I’d been drinking. And I thought I could handle myself.

I was wrong. And my recklessness sealed the fate of everyone who was tasked with protecting me.

Is that their blood we smell?

“What happens if you don’t think any of these new bodyguards are good enough?” I hear myself ask.

“Then I’ll do what I have to do,” Rian states, his voice gravelly with a growing bloodlust. “I’ll fucking show them who’s in charge here.”

For all of the happy memories I share with my cousin, there’s never been any hiding how brutal he can be.

Still, being down here with him, in the cold, unforgiving darkness of this forbidden cellar, while he’s preparing to unleash his beastly side, makes me realize just how different we really are.

I’ve never felt so helpless.

Hell, I’m afraid. Of the darkness. Of the blood. Of this side of Rian. Of this side of my family.

To some extent, everyone I know or care about is a monster.

So, why do I feel so much guilt? So much weakness? Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Why can’t I flip a switch and become a beast?

What’s wrong with me?

“Rian, I—”

I’m not even sure what I’m about to say, but before I can finish, the sound of footsteps reappears in the distance, echoing through the cold hallway like a hammer.

“Everything is set up,” Uncle Maksim’s voice rumbles through the darkness ahead. An instant later, his broad silhouette slips back into the dim light. “This way,” he says, beckoning us forward.

We do as we’re told.

“How do they look?” Rian asks, already taking the lead.

“Rough. But that’s to be expected, especially after what they’ve just been put through,” Uncle Maks replies, before looking back over his shoulder at me. “I apologize for the mess in advance, Bianca.”

“I’m sure I’ve seen worse.”

“I can’t imagine you have.”

My gut clenches at his response.

Sure, I’ve been sheltered from the worst of my family’s dealings. But I’ve still seen some shit.

What could be worse than the carnage I’ve already witnessed?

Trying to take a deep breath, I gulp in a mouthful of stale metallic air. It’s nauseating, and the further we walk into the underground hallway, the stronger it gets.

Shit. Maybe Uncle Maksim is right. Maybe this is different.

Something about It definitely feels different.

What’s changed?

Did I just get too reckless at the bar? Are these recent kidnappings just that serious?

It’s hard to tell. All I know for sure is that my hands are shaking by the time we pass a half-open door. The stench of blood that seeps from the room is almost powerful enough to send me to my knees.

I don’t want to look. But the scar above my eye suddenly flares up, and my head twitches to the side, pulling my gaze towards the slit.

Inside, I see what nightmares are made of.

Corpses.

Everywhere.

Piled up onto one another. Hacked to shreds. Spilled of their organs. Brain matter torn out and splattered over the crimson concrete.

For one dreadful moment, I meet a pair of pale dead eyes. They look oddly familiar, but my mind won’t let me make the connection.

Somewhere behind the door, I hear weeping. It’s faint, but loud enough to lodge itself deep into my mind.

“Don’t look at what’s in there,” Rian says, his voice low and guttural. The warmth of his hand snaps me out of my nightmare. “That door should have been closed.”

“No,” I hear Uncle Maksim sigh. “Her father insisted it stayed at least partially open.”

“Why?” Rian asks, shocked.

“A lesson,” Uncle Maksim says, before stopping in front of a fully closed door up ahead. “Your father wants you to know how dangerous this world truly is. How brutal. He needed you to see the consequences of your decisions, if even just a sliver of it. There’s no hiding you from it anymore, Bianca”

“That’s cruel,” Rian growls.

“That’s life,” Uncle Maksim replies. Pursing his lips, he looks me square in the eyes and nods. “Are you ready?”

It feels like I’m being choked. Like there are a pair of bloody hands wrapped around my throat. But after a moment of dread-filled shock, I force myself to fight through it.

It’s not like a have a choice. This is my life.

This is my world. No matter how dark and disturbing it is. I need to live with it. One day, I might even need to rule it.

“Yes. I’m ready.”

Isn’t this what I always wanted?

“Very well. It’s time to meet your new bodyguards.”

The heavy metal door creaks open against Uncle Maksim’s hand. He steps in first. Then Rian.

An electric heat jumps over their big bodies, rushing past them to prick at my skin. With a final deep breath, I follow my cousin inside.

The stench of blood isn’t as strong here as it was in the other room, but it still burns the hairs in my nostrils.

“I’m sorry you had to see the mess we made in the other room, dear.”

Dad’s commanding voice cuts through the suffocating air.

Wrapping my fingers around my wrist, I try to keep my limbs from shaking too much.

Be strong, Bianca. Show these men that you belong.

Stepping aside, Uncle Maksim and Rian open a path for Dad to greet me.

“I’ll be alright,” I say, looking up at his deep brown eyes. For a split second, they shimmer with concern. But that concern is quickly glazed over by a familiar, savage strength.

He is always strong for me. It’s my turn to be strong for him.

“I know,” Dad nods.

Behind him, I can feel the heat of the men who’ve been brought here to protect me. I can’t see them, though. Not yet. Dad’s big body blocks off my view—that is, until he too steps aside, revealing the line of bloody, shirtless beasts standing before us.

The gruesome sights sends another shock of fear through me. But I bite down on my tongue and try to appear fearless.

“You’ve all done well to survive this ordeal,” Dad says, addressing the troops.

While he talks, I force myself to stare down the line of beaten bodies.

These blood-stained men have gone through hell for the privilege of protecting my fragile little life. The least I can do is acknowledge their existence.

I promise myself to look every one of them in the eyes. No matter how hard that is. Because, if I’ve learned anything from that stupid bar fight, it’s that their lives are just as much in my hands as mine is in theirs.

“But this is only the beginning,” Dad continues. “From now on, you only have one goal in life. To protect my daughter. Bianca Byrne. A princess of the Kilpatrick empire. Heiress of my west coast kingdom. Future of the underworld. She is all that matters.”

Gritting my teeth, I begin my self-appointed task.

These men have already fought for you. Killed for you. Look them in the eyes, Bianca.

But that’s easier said than done. And not just because of my own fears. There are physical barriers too.

Eyelids have been swollen shut. Skin has been dyed dark shades of cracked crimson. Bones have clearly been broken.

Still, every last man in the line holds their chin up high. Being sworn into my family is a rare honor. I can’t imagine any of them are taking this moment for granted—even if the truth is this only means they will now have to protect me.

A sheltered princess who got her last bodyguards killed.

“My nephew, the great Rian Kilpatrick, will be your leader,” Dad announces. “Impress him and your opportunities will be endless. The young man isn’t just a seasoned soldier in his own right. He’s also first in line for his father’s throne. One day, all eyes in the underworld will look up to him for leadership. You are the lucky few who get to follow him first.”

Not one of the bloody men dare move an inch as my father addresses them. No one sways. No one coughs. No matter how badly injured any of them are, they only stare in our direction and listen.

In return, I do as any royal should—I silently greet them back with the same stoicism.

Or, at least, I try.

One by one, I move down the line. Black eyes. Brown eyes. Blue eyes. I meet them all. Puffing out my chest with fake courage.

But even I can feel my brave face drop when my gaze lands on the intense pair of eyes glaring at me from the middle of the lineup.

No.

Just like that, all of the fake courage in me disintegrates.

In between all of the black and brown and blue, shine a devilish pair of hazel-green eyes. They slash through my soul and dig into my gut like a jagged blade.

I’ve seen those eyes before.

Without warning, my heart starts to twitch wildly behind my chest. My limbs begin to shake. Black spots pierce my vision.

The otherworldly hazel, sprinkled with specks of emerald green flakes, framed by endlessly dark black rims.

They practically glow—even through his blood-drenched black hair; through the purple bruises on his swollen cheeks; through the crimson cuts that litter his bearded face; I can see those eyes.

I know those eyes.

How could I ever forget them?

After all of these years, they still find a way to haunt me.

Gabriel Corso.

My bully. My tormenter. The bane of my teenage years.

He’s dead center in a lineup of men who have been hand-picked to protect me from the darkest threats this depraved world has to offer.

But he is the darkness and the depravity of this world. Fully formed in a sinfully wicked body of hard muscle, deep scars, and heavily tattooed flesh.

He is exactly what I need to be protected from, not what I need to be protected by.

So, what the hell is he doing here?

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