Alessio
Russia, 16 years ago.
The thud of heavy boots echoes on the concrete floor outside the room, making my heart thump with vicious panic.
He's coming.
The monster is coming.
He killed Mom, and now he's going to kill me. Just like he promised yesterday.
Fear slows my thoughts, and my mind struggles. I never knew my life would end at twelve years old, or that I'd watch my mother die unable to do anything to save her.
I grip the metal bars of my cage and look around the dark dank room the monster has kept me in for weeks.
Last night, he beat me to a pulp and broke my leg the same way he snapped Mom's neck.
Mom and I were never going to escape him.
And this was always going to happen to me just for being Alessio Scarfoni.
The door creaks open, letting in a sliver of light. The beast-like man walks in.
The light is just bright enough to highlight his pale, ghost-like eyes and the mean-looking scar running from his left eye to his jaw.
He smiles when he reaches my cage.
"Time to die, you fucking little shit."
"No!"
He opens the cage door, then yanks me out, sending unbearable pain shooting up and down my body.
"Let me go now!"
"Shut up." A punch to my face delivers more pain, and I see stars.
Tears stream down my cheeks. I'm helpless.
The monster tosses me over his shoulder and carries me outside to the old barn. This was where he burned Mom's body. And made me watch.
He opens the door and throws me inside. I fall to the ground in so much pain I can't move, I can't see, I can't do anything.
The sinister sound of the door slamming shut lets me know I'm trapped.
Then I smell smoke.
It pours in from under the door.
Seconds later, orange flames swallow the smoke, rising all around me. I scream.
Mom, I'm sorry I couldn't save you.
Or myself...
-----------
Camille
Boston, present day.
Today is my wedding day.
I can’t believe this day has come around so quickly. Yet it feels like I’ve been waiting forever.
I’m standing in the bridal dressing room at Grantham Hall, one of the most prestigious wedding venues in Boston.
Staring back at my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror wall, I take in how grown-up I look.
My face is made up like I’m ready to walk the red carpet at the Oscars, and my wild platinum locks have been teased into loose waves beneath my veil.
In this dress my father bought for me, I look and feel like a fairy-tale princess.
Unlike the medieval-looking wedding gowns worn by descendants of the Brotherhood of Knights, my dress is from Vera Wang’s iconic bridal collection.
The strapless draped bodice has a sweetheart neck and a swirling frothy full-length skirt which reminds me of the sea of white roses in the courtyard at home.
In a matter of minutes, I’ll walk down the aisle to marry Richard Scarfoni, a man known throughout the country and Europe for his family’s wealth, power, and status.
Even though the contract for our marriage was signed and sealed in blood before I was born, the idea of our union never felt arranged to me. Not with him.
Although I’m nineteen and Richard is nine years older than me, we’ve always been close, and I can’t wait to marry him.
Everything is perfect. But I’m nervous.
And it’s not the wedding or Richard making me feel this way.
It’s my nightmares.
They’ve gotten worse.
Seven months ago, when I started my Psychology degree at Raventhorn University, the hellish nightmares I experienced as a child after a car accident returned.
Sleepless nights followed, and I haven’t managed to push aside the wretched feeling telling me my nightmares might not really be nightmares, but fractured memories of something horrific that happened to me.
Something different to the car accident, and something more I can’t remember from the past.
Just the thought sends a chilling shiver through my body.
The creak of the door draws my attention away from the mirror and my sordid thoughts. When Mira, Richard’s mother, glides in, my spirits lift.
As usual, she looks like a goddess with flawless makeup on her alabaster skin and her salt-and-pepper hair in a perfect chignon. The elegant emerald gown flowing around her body matches her eyes and makes her look at least ten years younger than her fifty years.
She looks me over, bringing her dainty hands up to her cheeks.
“Camille, oh my gosh, look at you.” The deep emotion in her voice almost overpowers her slight Russian accent. “My dear girl, you look absolutely beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
She pulls me in for a loving hug, and I sink into her embrace.
“No need to thank me, dear. It’s true. I couldn’t ask for a more beautiful daughter-in-law, or a better one.”
“I feel the same about you.”
Mira—the lead psychiatrist at Massachusetts General—was not only the inspiration for my career, but she helped me after my accident. Because we knew each other, it wasn’t therapy; I just checked in with her. She’s also been my rock, like a mother to me since my mom died.
“We’re lucky to have each other.”
“We are.”
She touches the veil, and as I watch her expression, the only word that comes to mind is nostalgic.
“I remember when you first laid your eyes on my veil. You were eight years old, playing dress-up. You asked me if you could have it.”
“And you said when the time was right, you’d give it to me.” I fill my voice with false pride, pretending I remember what happened like I always do.
“It means so much to me that you remember.”
“I know.” As lies spew from my lips, guilt writhes in my soul.
The truth is, I don’t remember anything. It’s normal for people to forget childhood memories, but the accident stole mine. My parents were told I’d have permanent memory loss, so I have no memories from before I was nine. Nothing whatsoever—not events, or even people.
Ten years have passed since, and I still feel like I’m walking around in a universe someone made up for me. Raising me didn’t exactly help my mother’s depression, and I worried I drove her to kill herself. It must have been awful having a child who can’t remember you’re their mother.
I push the heartbreaking thought out of my mind along with my nerves and give Mira a smile. I promised myself I wouldn’t spoil the day by thinking about the past.
I just need to get through today, then find a way to get back on track. The last thing I want is to start my marriage off on the wrong foot when Richard had so many women falling at his feet.
Mira takes my hands in hers and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Enjoy today, my love.”
“I will.”
“I’m sorry Evgeni can’t be here.” The light in her eyes dims as sadness invades her expression, making her look fragile.
“Me too.”
Evgeni, her husband and Richard’s father, had chronic heart failure. Three months ago, he had a heart attack and has been in a coma ever since.
We wanted to postpone the wedding with the hope he’d get better, but Mira insisted we go ahead because the chances of him coming back to us are slim. She knew Evgeni wouldn’t have wanted us to delay the wedding for him.
“He would have loved to witness your wedding. So, on behalf of the both of us, I’d like to welcome you to the Scarfoni family.”
My heart swells with warmth, and I feel like I’m going to be okay. “Thank you so much. That means a lot to me.”
She kisses my cheeks and says, “Munu sterkr smár einn.”
I love this blessing of strength in the Old Norse language, the language the Knights still use. I love that women like Mira speak it because of their thoroughbred linage which goes right back to the founding fathers from the Viking era.
I dip my head, appreciating her words. Since I was raised in the Bratva, the only other language I speak apart from English is Russian. But thanks to Mira, I can understand a few Old Norse words.
The door opens again, and my best friend and maid of honor, Lorelai, walks in. In her long golden bridesmaid’s dress that looks like it was painted on her slender frame, and her waist-length ebony hair swishing around her shoulders, she commands the same attention she does in one of her plays. She’s doing a performing arts degree at Raventhorn and wants to be an actress.
Although she saw me get ready, awe still brightens her face as she looks at me. It’s the same adoration I feel for seeing her look so good too.
“It’s time.” She gazes at me, looking proud and excited. “Are you ready?”
Releasing my breath, I nod. “Absolutely.”
“Then let’s go.” Lorelai beams.
She leads the way out, and Mira and I follow.
We join the wedding party waiting for us by the entrance to the hall where the wedding will be conducted.I walk toward my father and take his hand. His curly hair, unruly as usual, is smoothed back today. Despite the crude scar on his cheek, the look gives him a refined edge. But he still reminds me of an older Sirius Black from Harry Potter.Dad looks like the proud man he always shows the world, but nervousness lurks in his eyes.I understand the nerves. I'm not just his only daughter, I'm his only child.My dad kept me wrapped in a silk cocoon before Mom died, but after her death, he tucked me away in a glass house, keeping me safe from cartels and drug lords and any guy other than Richard.I give him a big smile of reassurance, letting him know I'll be okay. He leans in and kisses my forehead just like he used to do when he tucked me into bed at night."You look beautiful, my daughter." His voice holds heartfelt emotion he never shares with the public. As head of the enforcers in
AlessioBlood drains from Camille Galitze's already pale skin when she hears my venomous words of objection.As her full lips part in shock, I instantly think of her mouth around my cock, and I find myself smiling like the psycho I am.I know how strange I must look to all the shocked people observing me, but I don't care. Stealing Camille is just the beginning of what I plan to do.My brother's betrothed is just a pretty emblem of his imminent defeat and the first of many trophies I will be taking.There, there, Princess. This monster won't be eating you just yet. But I do plan to very soon.Camille is truly beautiful and tempting, even to a man like me who's had his fair share of women.Her eyes are a bright crystal blue, like the Icelandic glaciers I love sailing around, and that hair of hers is cotton white like the old Norse paintings of Valkyries. There's a fire burning within those eyes that's fitting to the description, and I'd bet underneath that dainty princess exterior, she
AlessioUther Galitze, Camille's father. The monster.The fucking monster who killed my mother. He thought he killed me too when he set the barn on fire that night so long ago in Russia.He's staring at me. Afraid of me now, because he knows what I could do to him with just one word.Since death is too good for people like him, I planned a special punishment.A special game, like the ones he used to play with me that made me fear for my life. The game begun today as he walked his daughter down the aisle, knowing from our little encounter days ago what was going to happen to her next."You, Leif. You knew about this. Didn't you?" Richard spits, glaring at Leif. "You planned this.""I did." Leif sets his shoulders back. Unfazed by Richard's rage, he stares at him as if he's ready to charge like a wild bull. He might be sixty, with a head and beard full of gray hair, but he can still snap any motherfucker in half no matter their age."How the fuck could you do this to me?"Leif gives him
CamilleThe wedding is off.God, what a nightmare.And now I'm being taken to Alessio Scarfoni's house.The thought weakens me, and I feel so fragile I fear I may shatter into a million pieces.Thank God Dad's arm is still around me. If he weren't holding me up and moving us down the corridor toward the car, I don't think I could do it myself.The echo of my heels against the marble floor is a welcome distraction from the turbulence in my mind, but I can't stop myself from freaking out about what will happen to me. And Richard. I've never seen him look so defeated, and so powerless.I'm desperately trying to hold it together, but I can't.How the fuck must I? What the hell are the chances of my life being ruined by Richard's long-lost brother? And surely, he can't be serious about marrying me.Every time I try to process it, I feel like I'm losing my mind.But when we walk past the stunning hall decorated for the reception, my heart gives a hard squeeze. From the rose-gold tablecloths
AlessioLeif takes us to the closest meeting room, which is just as ornate as the rest of the building.I'm the last to enter and close the door. My guests don't sit. They stand together facing me, waiting for answers."Well, start talking," Richard demands."Yes, I'm eager to find out how I have another brother I never knew about," Malik says, and Zakh nods."My mother was Fryeda Polinsky," I begin. "She and our father grew up together in Moscow. He was with her before your mother." I pause, glancing at Mira, who looks more ghostly than before. Leif told me everything about the past and never shied away from the possibility that Mira was at least aware Mom existed and was involved with my father. She didn't know about me, though. No one did. "They broke up when he was promised to Mira, but he didn't know she was pregnant with me. She didn't tell him until I was twelve. However, things didn't go as expected. She didn't know that my existence as his firstborn son threatened his busines
AlessioWhen we reach the end of the corridor, I stop when my name is called. It's Uther.He rushes up to me, out of breath. His face is red, and his eyes are filled with panic."This can't work. You can't take my daughter. She's an innocent in this." He shakes his graying head, contorting his face so his scar becomes more pronounced. "There must be something else I can do."I give him a radiant smile, enjoying his trepidation the way he enjoyed mine when he tried to kill me. "Uther Galitze, you know there's nothing else you can do. You also know what will happen if you try."This motherfucker knows my threats aren't empty, nor are they something to be trifled with. I've already taken Camille and his business through the marriage contract. I will also be relieving him of his senior position in the Bratva. Meaning the fucker will lose everything. I would have loved to kick him out completely, but I didn't want to raise any red flags.He knows if I unleash all the serious dirt I have on
CamilleResting my head against the satin wall, I stare at the sea in the distance through the long casement windows. I'd think the intricate carvings in the wood were beautifully designed if I weren't trapped behind them like a bird in a cage.My mother believed patience was the most powerful of virtues.I always agreed. But there are some situations where not even the highest level of patience can help you.Mine is without a doubt one of them.Two hours ago, I arrived at the massive compound of Alessio Scarfoni's mansion on Cape Cod. The house is one of the old-style Tudor homes you'd normally find in Salem, but his is ostentatious and has a haunted vibe.The idea of being in a haunted mansion is creepy enough, but I feel like I'm trapped in one of my nightmares.When I arrived, a rude-looking woman with silver hair and an upturned nose met us on the driveway. Then, without a word, she escorted me to this huge master bedroom I knew straightaway belonged to a man. It's the décor. Dar
CamilleHe walks in, and the door swings shut, the sound of the click lingering like a reminder that I don't know who I'm dealing with.The biker jacket is gone, but he still has the same drifter look, enhanced by the expanse of muscle on his arms, which I can clearly see now, bulging against his fitted T-shirt.My eyes flick to the clothes folded in his hands. I spot a gray T-shirt and something stretchy like yoga pants. I assume those are for me, and my stomach drops.The beginning of a smile tips his full, sensual lips, revealing dimples that make his already handsome face more striking. I stare back at him, trying to figure him out, but I can't. His personality seems to have several things going on, and I'm not sure what part of him I'm going to get.From the predatory vibe emanating from him, I know to stay focused because despite everything, he's dangerous. All the Scarfonis are, but this one is the one to watch.Especially with that rune on his wrist.The only time I've ever se