A scream ripped from my throat. Finally. Too late.

What had happened? How was this happening? It seemed too surreal, like something from a movie, something that couldn’t possibly take place right in front of my eyes. A dream. A nightmare.

“No,” Mother screeched. She stormed toward Father and fell to her knees. She patted his chest helplessly, as if that would wake him. It almost appeared like she was looking for his wallet, and for a horrible moment, something like a laugh wanted to bubble out of me, but at the same time my throat felt too tight. It was hard to breathe, and perhaps that wouldn’t have been the worst thing right now, to stop breathing until everything faded to black. Mother cradled Father’s head in her lap but when she pulled back her hands, they came away covered in blood and something white. Blood. Brain.

Oh God.

My vision blurred and bile traveled up my throat. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to keep face among the horrible creatures surrounding my family and me. For some reason, I looked down at my own hands as if they, too, would be covered in blood. They weren’t. I couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel if Falcone’s blood covered my hands, how it would feel to end his life like he’d done with Father’s. I suspected it would feel marvelous, and it scared me that I even entertained those thoughts.

“Your job here is done, Growl. Mike and Mimo will take care of the rest. Take your reward home and enjoy her. I’m sure she’ll keep you entertained for a while.”

It took a moment before I realized he was talking about me. Before I could react, Growl appeared in front of me, massive and tall, smelling like gunpowder and blood. My gaze flitted up to his face, but the look in his eyes made me recoil and I stared at his chest instead, at the muscles straining against his shirt.

He clutched my arm. His grip was tight, on the verge of painful, but I didn’t pull away. Behind him, my mother was still kneeling beside Father, a horribly empty expression on her face. Growl nudged me in the direction of the door and when I didn’t react, he started pulling me along.

Talia’s tear-filled eyes met mine. I tried to rip away from Growl’s grip, but it was like he wasn’t even human. He hardly seemed to notice my resistance. I was a bothersome fly attacking a lion.

“Wait!” I screamed and to my surprise Growl actually halted, an uncomprehending expression on his face. I twisted until I could see Falcone again. “What about my sister and mother? What happens to them?”

“That’s none of your business,” he said with that malicious grin. Then he glanced at Growl. “Take her out of my sight. I’m growing tired of her.”

Growl tightened his hold and dragged me away despite my protests. Talia tried to run toward me but was stopped by another of Falcone’s men. Mother was beyond our reach, trapped in her sadness.

“Cara!” Talia cried, her eyes pleading with me to do something, to help her. But how?

Growl opened the door, and then we were outside. Talia screamed again but her words weren’t intelligible.

The door closed between us, and Talia’s terrified cries died away. I walked on autopilot. Not that it would have changed a thing if my legs had given way. Growl would just have dragged me along. I finally drew my eyes away from my home. I couldn’t bear looking back at it a moment longer, knowing that I might never see it again.

As my gaze settled on the tall man pulling me toward an enormous black Hummer, the fear for my sister and mother took a backseat as my own fate registered. Falcone had given me to his cruelest fighter. If I survived today, would I even want to live any longer?

Maybe death would seem like the sweetest mercy after Growl was done with me.

CHAPTER SIX

Growl

My mind was racing as I pulled Cara toward my car. I’d often thought about the first time I’d seen her at Falcone’s party. I’d regretted ever attending that fucking party, especially because her image had haunted my sleep in the weeks after.

I’d felt like a monkey in a suit, and I knew I looked that way too. Something, a monster, they wanted to keep in a cage until they needed to unleash it. I knew Falcone only invited me so people would have something to talk about. Even after all these years, they still regarded me as the monster to fear.

I was a monster, no question. But I wasn’t the only monster in that room. I wasn’t even sure I was the worst.

I’d killed the most people with my own hands; I couldn’t deny it, and I didn’t want to. I was fucking proud of what I’d done. Most of it, at least. It was the only thing I was good at, killing. I was the best. And maybe my talent for killing made me one of the worst monsters, but I knew how easily the order to kill and maim rolled off the tongues of many men gathered at that ball, how they relished in their power to do so.

I wasn’t sure if that didn’t make them just as bad. But it wasn’t my place to decide anyway. Maybe one day all of them, me included, would have to face a higher power. That day wouldn’t end well for these men.

I wasn’t too worried, however. I’d lived through hell, still lived it. There was nothing to fear for me. Nothing waiting for me beyond death could possibly do worse damage than had already been done. There was nothing of me that hadn’t been broken, nothing left to destroy, except for my body perhaps, but I wasn’t worried about that either. I knew pain, agony even. It was the only constant in my life. I’d almost come to see it as a friend. Something I could count on, something predictable.

No, I didn’t fear pain, or death for that matter. Falcone always said that made me such a valuable asset. And that was something I was proud of, even if the words coming from Falcone’s mouth left a bitter aftertaste.

They took me for dim-witted, thought of me as nothing but a stupid lapdog to do their bidding without the barest inkling of what they were up to. Like one of the many fight dogs that Falcone and so many of the other men kept for entertainment.

But many people had made the same mistake—confused silence for stupidity, equated lack of words with lack of understanding and knowledge. It was an error they might pay for one day. I knew most of their deepest and darkest secrets, simply because they didn’t keep their fucking mouths shut when I was around. They thought I wasn’t listening, and even if I were, how could I ever grasp what they were saying?

I despised them, but they paid well and respected me for my strength and brutality; that was enough for me. I had no intention of using my knowledge. I didn’t need much: money to buy food for my dogs and myself, and for women and a drink now and then. I liked my simple life. I didn’t want complications.

I cast my eyes over to the cowering girl in the passenger seat. I hoped she wouldn’t turn out to be a complication. I could hardly give her back. Falcone wouldn’t like that.

Not that I had any intention of ever giving her back. She was my most valuable possession to this date. She was looking out of the window, ignoring me. Like she’d done at the party. Like they all did until they couldn’t ignore me anymore. Did she still think she was above me? I turned my gaze back to the road. It didn’t matter. She was mine now. The idea sent a stab of pride through me, and my groin tightened in anticipation.

Mine.

CARA

I could barely breathe. From fear, and because of the stench. God, the stench was worse than anything I’d ever smelled before. Blood. Metallic and sweet, oppressing. I could still see the pool of blood spreading beneath Father’s lifeless body, could see Mother kneeling amidst the red liquid, and Talia’s horror-widened eyes. Every moment of tonight seemed to be burned into my mind.