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

Barbed wire digs into my wrists.

The sharp metal is the only thing keeping me from passing out again. Pain, and the steady tempo of the blood dripping from the cuts in my outstretched arms.

The last thing I remember, Rian Kilpatrick’s fist was making contact with my temple. Then, there was darkness. And when my eyes finally ripped open, I was tied up here. Naked and alone.

Here.

Fuck.

The lights don’t have to be on for me to realize where I am. I’d recognize the metallic sting in the air anywhere. I’d remember the claustrophobia. The desperate brutality.

This is Ray Byrne’s cellar. In the basement of his compound.

If the police had been investigating him for the killing of that senator’s son, they must be long gone now.

Because I know what’s about to happen. I’ve been through it before. It doesn’t matter how soundproofed this place is, my screams will seep through the walls.

All I’ll be able to do is take it. Take it and lie through my fucking teeth. If a single ounce of truth slips from my bloody lips, then I’ll never leave this basement. Not alive.

Until then, I just have to keep myself from going mad. My feet haven’t been tied, and I have to continuously flex my core just to keep from swinging back and forth—if I let go for even one second, then the pain will drown me.

Taking a deep breath, I peer through the darkness and try to picture the reason I’m going through all of this.

Bianca.

By the end of this violent chess game, there needs to be little doubt in anyone’s mind that she’s mine. And even if my faith in Drago is faltering, only he knows how to unlock what I need to get where I belong.

On a throne, with Bianca by my side.

Whether she’ll be on her knees, or in a chair of her own next to mine is yet to be seen. But I’m already desperate to return to her and figure it out.

More than anything, it’s what keeps me strong as I wait in the darkness, suspended by barbed wire, shrouded in blood. Unsure of what exactly comes next.

Stay alive for her. Lie for yourself.

Those two contradicting motivations swirl around inside of me as I hear a heavy bolt unlock behind the cold darkness.

A sliver of light appears. Then, it explodes, filling the room, and blinding me.

“Wakey wakey,” Rian Kilpatrick’s deep voice precedes the slap he levies against my swollen cheek. “It’s time to rise and feel the pain.”

Spitting out a pearl of coagulated blood, I force my eyes open again. It takes a while for everything to come back into focus, but when it does, I see that Rian isn’t the only one who’s come to visit.

Ray Byrne is here as well.

The murderer.

“How are you feeling?” the old man asks, his tone cold… yet surprisingly sincere.

“I’ve never felt better,” I spit again. This time, the blood lining my mouth doesn’t get far. It dribbles from my lips, joining the thin pool of blood building below my dangling feet.

“There he goes, lying already,” Rian says. “Let’s get this fucker swinging, then we’ll see just how much longer he can spew his bullshit.”

My abs clench twice over as I’m gifted a heavy right-handed jab by the seething lion. The force doesn’t bend my body, but it does start me swinging.

“Fuck…” I can’t help but grunt. The numbness in my shoulders is being burned away. The skull-splitting pain is returning.

“Make him still again,” Ray orders.

Rian hesitates before obeying. Eventually, though, he slaps his hands against my side and squeezes, holding me in place until the momentum of his punch has dissipated.

When he lets go, I’ve stopped moving. But the numbness is gone. All I feel is pain.

“Ready to tell the truth?” Rian asks.

“I’ve never done anything but tell you the truth.”

It doesn’t matter how convincing my lie is. The answer affords me another punch to the gut.

Before I can swing too far backwards, though, Rian grabs me around the waist and steadies my tense body once more.

“Who are you?” Rian asks, all as Ray quietly watches behind him.

“Gabriel Corso.”

“Why did you want to become a bodyguard for the Byrne family?”

“Because I wanted to make something of myself.”

Another punch to the gut nearly makes me puke. But I manage to spit out only blood.

“You could have done that any number of ways. Why come work for the family of the girl you grew up hating?”

“I never hated Bianca.”

Another punch makes my entire body lurch. One of the barbs digging into my wrist is displaced, and the sharp angle slashes into the bottom of my palm, spilling even more blood.

“No more bullshit,” Rian growls. “One more lie and I’m going to cut your fucking cock of.”

I see the blade in his hand before I can process the threat. Still, I force myself to remain calm.

“I never hated Bianca,” I stoically insist, even as every inch of my body burns.

“Then why was she so afraid of you?”

“Bianca isn’t scared of anything.”

Wrong answer.

“You think I’m bluffing, don’t you?”

In the blink of an eye, Rian’s fingers have closed in around the base of my soft cock. Holding my dick in a vice grip, he slides the flat side of his blade across my testicles.

“Which nut should I sever first?”

“Rian. That’s enough.”

Ray’s voice is calm yet commanding. And it’s enough to pull Rian away.

“One more lie and not even the old man will be able to stop me,” Rian sneers, sheathing his knife.

“I’m not in any position to tell lies,” I lie. “Please, just ask me what needs to be asked. Bianca is still out there. She’s still in trouble.”

In my life, I’ve uttered countless falsehoods. But for some reason, this is the first time I’ve felt even an ounce of guilt for doing so.

My chest twitches as I realize why.

Empathy. I know exactly how Rian and Ray are feeling, because it would be precisely how I felt if someone like Drago had managed to get a hold of Bianca.

“Who took my daughter?” Ray asks.

The great don brushes past his nephew, his piercing brown eyes unflinching as they strip me down.

This is the man who killed your mother, I remind myself. Lie, or he’ll kill you too.

A flash of ancient rage slashes through me. Before Bianca burrowed herself into my every thought, this entire plan was centered around killing this man.

Ray Byrne.

“During the chaos, I escaped with Bianca. Rian held off those fuckers who ambushed us,” I start, swallowing my own blood. “But I was unarmed. I was injured. Check the back of my knee. Shrapnel shredded through my flesh. I was bleeding like crazy. I was on the verge of passing out…”

“We know,” Rian interrupts. “I followed your trail of blood to the street. But that’s where it ended. Almost like a car was there, waiting to sweep you away.”

“There was a car there,” I confirm. “It was filled with more men than I could handle. I tried to fight them off, but I wasn’t at full strength. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in a sealed shipping container.”

“A shipping container?” Ray asks, intrigued.

It’s the first good sign yet.

“Down by the docks,” I gingerly nod. The movement only starts me swinging again. I wince against the pain, but no one steps forward to stop me.

“How did you get out of this sealed container?” Rian asks, still suspicious.

“I made a hell of a lot of noise.”

“Someone let you out?” Ray asks.

“A worker. By the time they heard me, I was already on the ship. By some miracle, I was at the top of the pile. Otherwise, I’d be dead by now.”

Letting my voice tremble against the unbearable pain, I try to sell my current helplessness.

It seems to work, because I soon feel a pair of sturdy hands around my waist. It’s Ray.

The swinging stops. But the pain remains.

“He’s lying,” Rian insists. “We’ve already talked to a dozen dock workers. No one told us anything about letting a man out of a shipping container.”

“The ship was on its way out to sea,” I grit, desperately trying to salvage my lie. “I watched it disappear on the horizon as I tried to gather my breath on the dock.”

“How convenient, that the worker who set you free just so happens to be long gone.”

“I’m not lying,” I try to assure him. “If I was, you don’t think I could have come up with something better?”

“No. I think you’re a bad liar, and it’s a miracle you got through our vetting process at all.”

Rian steams before me, still more than ready to cut my balls off. But Ray remains quiet. Without saying a word, he disappears behind me.

I don’t know what I’m expecting, but the hair-raising sound of chair legs scraping against the cold cement ground definitely isn’t it.

“You believe him?” Rian gasps, utterly shocked as I feel the weight of my dangling feet fall onto the seat of a chair.

The blinding pain shooting up my shoulders is finally eased, if only slightly.

“Thank you,” I mumble, graciously.

But Ray ignores me. “I never said that I believe him.”

“Then why ease his agony?”

“Because I would like him lucid for what comes next.”

Any sense of relief I was just feeling is quickly singed away by that comment.

“Tell us where Bianca is!” Rian shouts, continuing his barrage.

“I already told you. I don’t know,” I repeat, a helpless weight filling my gut. My lies are falling on deaf ears. Fuck.

“Then tell us who took her. You said you had a description, right?”

“I do. And I have a name too. I overheard just enough before I blacked out.”

“A name?” That’s Ray’s voice. Again, he sounds more intrigued than belligerent. Really, I should stop talking to Rian. Ray seems to be my only hope here.

But can I hide my loathing for him long enough to survive?

“Well, then let’s hear it. That at least might keep you alive for a little while longer,” Rian barks.

“Drago,” I say, as loud and clear as I can, hardly believing that I am. Whatever my adoptive father has cooking up, it seems foolish to expose his name like this. We’ve all worked so hard to keep everything about us so shrouded in secrecy.

“Drago what?” Rian pushes.

“No one said his last name. But it was clear that he was in charge.”

“What did he look like?” Ray asks, stepping back around to my front side.

“He was pale. With wispy black hair and a haggard, mangled face. Scarred, but clear of any tattoos.”

“That’s hardly helpful,” Rian notes. “I know a hundred men like that just off of the top of my head.”

“This one… Drago… his right eye. It had scars cutting through it. Claw marks almost. And while his left eye was endlessly black, his right eye was pale and dead. Almost completely white.”

“Do you know anyone like that, nephew?” Ray asks Rian.

“No,” Rian slowly responds. “Do you?”

“No.”

A flash of agonizing pain quivers through my body as I desperately try to hold onto consciousness.

Believe me, you fools. Out of all I’ve said, that description is the only truth.

“Was he Russian?” Rian asks, suddenly more intrigued than hostile.

“I couldn’t tell,” I say, hearing my voice getting weaker. “But I don’t think so. They spoke both English and another language. I didn’t recognize the other language.”

My two interrogators process that bit of information in silence, before slowly convening near the middle of the room.

“What do you think?” I hear Rian ask his uncle.

“I think you should go upstairs and tell Maksim what we just heard. Give him the description of our pale, dead-eyed suspect. Drago. Let him put out the word that it’s someone we may be looking for.”

“Do you believe him?” Rian grumbles, looking over at me.

“Go, nephew,” Ray says, putting a reassuring hand on Rian’s shoulder. “I’ll handle the rest.”

“Fine,” Rian huffs. He gives me one last lethal look before turning to the door.

When it slams shut behind him, I’m left alone with the man who killed my mother.

But I’m too weak for anger. Too busy keeping up with my own lies to contemplate what this fucker means to me.

All that exists between my pain and my duty are lingering flashes of those crystal blue eyes. Those soft pillow lips. They give me glimpses of comfort as I face down hell, all by myself.

Oh, what I’ve already done to your ‘innocent’ daughter, old man.

“Who got to you?”

It’s the first question Ray asks when we’re all alone.

“What?”

His sudden accusation is jarring. Wasn’t he supposed to be playing the good cop?

“Who’s been pulling your strings?”

A stone drops in my gut as I realize the old man was never on my side.

Fuck. I haven’t been fooling anyone.

“I… I was telling you the truth.” Another lie amongst the countless I’ve already told.

In response, a deep, almost mournful sigh escapes Ray’s lips. Stepping forward, he pulls the chair out from under my feet.

The sudden blast of pain temporarily knocks me out. A fact I’m only made aware of when I’m gently slapped awake.

“This is what I get for trying to do the right thing.” Ray’s deep voice is filled with regret, and his words pry my eyes the rest of the way open as he uses my chair as a seat for himself.

His words throw me right into a raging fire.

“Right thing?” I hear myself blurt out. My brain is so scrambled from the ever-growing agony, from my cacophony of lies, that I can hardly keep my true feelings bottled up.

This man killed my mother. He doomed me to this life. To this path. To this cellar.

Who the hell is he to talk about what’s right and what’s wrong?

“I understand your confusion,” Ray says, his voice dropping as he runs a hand over his jaw. “Men like us don’t really ever consider doing what’s right. Only what’s in our best interest.”

“I’m nothing like you,” I spit. Woman killer. Fuck. I almost want to throw aside my veil and tell Ray everything. To let him know who he is to me, and what his daughter will give me. What she has already given me.

But before I can break, I snap myself awake.

“I’m just a lowly street urchin,” I mumble, trying to save myself—after all, it’s the only way I’ll ever get out of here. The only way I’ll get to see Bianca again. “Not a king. Not a Great Don.”

“I wasn’t always a great don,” Ray responds, seemingly waving aside my first rage-filled comment. “Once, I was just like you. A talented, hard-nosed kid from the gutter who would do whatever it took to make a name for myself.”

“Then you know I would never throw away the opportunity you’ve given me.”

“No. I don’t know that,” Ray shrugs. “When I was around your age, the Kilpatricks took me in. Hell, it was Rian’s grandfather who gave me my first job. He helped lift me out of poverty, out of the sewers. He gave me the most precious gift of all. Opportunity. At first, I was resentful of that opportunity. All I could see was how much he already had. Slowly, though, I learned that the man hadn’t been handed a damned thing. He’d worked his ass off for all he built. That’s when I truly understood what I had been given. Not an opportunity to be handed my dreams. But a chance to work for them. That’s not an opportunity many people get. But it’s one that I was given. And it’s one I wanted to give to you.”

Even through the blaring pain pulsing through every inch of my body, the sincerity in Ray’s voice is shockingly clear.

It doesn’t sound like he’s just speaking to some fresh recruit from an underprivileged background. It sounds like he’s talking to someone he knows.

But how could he know me?

“Why would you do that for me?” I ask, my voice weak.

“Guilt.”

The word rips through me like a scythe.

“Guilt for what?”

Say it, you bastard. Tell me that you know exactly who I am. Tell me that you feel bad for killing my mother. Tell me that it eats away at your insides. That it cripples you.

“For making you an orphan.”

My head drops right along with my heart.

The confession is heavier than any physical pain could ever be.

“You killed my mother.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t have a choice.”

“We always have a choice.” My voice trembles.

“You’re right,” Ray admits. “And I made mine. I chose to take your mother’s life so that I could protect the love of mine.”

That rips my head back up.

“What?”

“Your mother was… a complicated woman,” Ray explains, meeting my gaze head on. “But in her last moments, she crossed a line. Gun in her hand, she aimed death at the only person who’d ever made me feel the true glory of love… and not just the pain of it. If I hadn’t shot Sonia first, then I would have lost everything. It was a hard decision. But it was the only one.”

My chest burns and my skull aches, but through it all, my brain is desperately trying to make sense of what I’m hearing.

“…Sonia?”

Did Ray just say what I think he said?

“Sonia Caruso,” Ray sighs. “Your mother.”

It’s like a noose has been tightened around my throat. Despite all I’ve been through, this is what stops my lungs from working.

My mother’s name.

Finally.

But just as quickly as my breath is taken, it returns, soaked in dreadful confusion.

“Sonia Caruso,” I mumble. Immediately, the name feels wrong on my lips.

That’s not a Polish name. Not even fucking close.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

“I… I…” Fuck. I don’t know what to say. “Are you sure?”

“The truth has haunted me for years, Gabriel. But try to understand, I wasn’t made aware of your existence until long after your mother’s death. By then, it was far too late to give you the upbringing you deserved. You had already grown up an orphan. Whoever your father was, he’d left long before your birth. And you were born just after Sonia decided that there was more opportunity to be had without a child than there was with one. You were hardly even a year old before she left you for the wolves. Abandoned you so she could marry some slimy Italian mob boss—it’s part of the reason it took me so long to find out about you. Because she hardly ever told anyone about how she gave you up.”

This is the worst torture of all. I can’t believe this. I won’t.

“No… My mother saved me…”

“Your mother wasn’t a good person, Gabriel. I know it’s cruel to say—especially now—but it must be said.”

“You just want to feel better about murdering her,” I hear myself growl.

“No. I’m long past that. The only guilt I feel is about not knowing of your existence sooner. I should have known to dig deeper into Sonia’s past. She had so many secrets. But the memory of her death was too painful. Too fresh.”

“You murdered a woman!” I shout, pain be damned.

“She was much more than a woman,” Ray says, every word filled with a depth I can hardly grasp.

“She was a queen.”

Pursing his lips, Ray looks up at me. Pity lines his gaze.

It disgusts me. I don’t need his fucking sympathy. I hardly even care what I’ve just let slip.

She was a queen.

But Ray doesn’t push the matter.

“Whatever you’ve heard about your mother, it doesn’t appear to be true. She wasn’t a good person, Gabriel. And no matter how hard she tried to be one, she never became a queen.”

“How the hell do you know all of this?” I accuse, desperate for everything to be a lie.

“For all of her faults, your mother meant a great deal to me. She was the first girl I ever—” Ray catches himself before he can finish that thought. “Let’s just say we grew up together. She taught me a lot. Including how to survive.”

“Grew up where?” I ask, fists clenching despite the blood dripping from my palm and my wrists.

“New York.”

Fucking hell. That seals it. Whoever Ray is talking about, it’s a completely different person than who Drago has always painted for me.

There’s no connecting the dots. Someone is lying. Someone is playing me for a fucking fool.

But who?

“Why are you telling me all of this?” I demand to know—not that I’m in any position to demand anything.Content © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Because I want you to know that you’re different, Gabriel. You aren’t just some orphan I can ignore. Not just some failed bodyguard that I can mindlessly toss into a shallow grave. I’ve committed a section of my soul to assuring you have an opportunity to succeed. From getting you into the same private school as my daughter, to pushing you through the vetting process so that you could take a prestigious job under my tutelage, I thought I could force away the guilt by providing you with untold opportunities. By opening a path not usually afforded to people like you—to people like us.”

Every word digs deeper into my chest, until that last sentence twists the knife into my heart.

People like me.

I’m supposed to be royalty. A lost prince in exile. Not the street rat I grew up pretending to be. That was just a necessity. An unfortunate circumstance to grit through until I was strong enough to take what rightfully belonged to me.

But now I’m not sure what’s mine.

Not that Ray has destroyed everything. Not yet. Even if he is telling the truth. There’s still hope.

I latch onto that tiny slice of hope.

My father.

Half-bloods can still rule. Haff-bloods can still inherit empires.

“Did you know my father?” I hear myself ask. The desperation in my voice must be clear, but I’m beyond caring about any façade.

“No. And I still don’t,” Ray admits. Putting his hands on his knees, he stands up from his chair.

Still, even as he approaches, stern brown eyes turning back to stone, I don’t feel any fear—only relief.

What I think I know of my father is still safe… for now. And along with that, my identity as an exiled prince can continue to exist.

All is not lost. Not yet.

But as Ray walks behind me again, I can’t help but sneer through the agony, and through the relief.

An infinite rage begins to course through my burning body.

Drago.

I swear to God, if he’s been lying to me this entire time, using me…

Suddenly, without warning, the barbed wire holding up my right arm gives out. The right part of my body collapses, before catching on the barbed wire that’s wrapped around my left wrist. The pain is so sharp and stinging that I can’t help but scream.

A second later, my left arm is freed as well, and I fall to the hard cement floor below.

Immediately, I keel over, stomach convulsing as I’m reintroduced to a life that isn’t pure, constant suffering.

Ray let me go.

But why?

“El Blanco,” Ray says. “That name is the closest I’ve ever gotten to finding your father. Perhaps, if you survive this whole ordeal, you can use that information to go looking for him yourself.”

I hardly hear him over the hoarse, bloody coughs tearing up through my throat.

But I’ve been through worse. This suffering is what makes a man strong.

Ray’s problem is that he hasn’t suffered enough. Same goes with his daughter.

I’ll have to change that.

But first…

“You’re not going to kill me?” I ask, barely getting the words out.

“No,” Ray says, stepping back before me. “I haven’t given up on you quite yet, Gabriel. Not after all I’ve put in. Even if I hardly believed a word you’ve just said. I did hear truth in one thing. The description of the man with the dead eye. Drago. He’s real. And either he paid you to betray us, or there’s something else going on. Whatever the case, you’re the last one to see my daughter alive. And you will help me get her back. Do you understand?”

Blood dripping from my lips, barbed wire still tied around my mangled wrists, I force myself to sit up straight.

“I understand,” I nod.

Reaching out, Ray offers his hand to me.

“Good. Now, get up.”

It’s not like I have a choice. I take his hand. The hand of the man who just turned my entire world upside down. The hand of the man who just confessed to killing my mother.

The hand of the man whose daughter I’ve taken and defiled.

The same daughter I still have locked away; who I just lied to keep; who I desperately crave to see again.

Ray Byrne helps me up from a pool of my own blood, and I stand tall beside him, uneasy on my own two feet, and half-blind from pain, but full of a ruthless determination.

Because suddenly, I realize something.

Something that I’ve always suspected—hell, even welcomed—but which has never been so powerful or as invigorating as it is right now.

I’m the monster in this story.

Because for everything that I just learned, for all that Ray Byrne just laid bare, for all I’ve suffered in the face of the love shared between family members, not once did I ever think of giving in.

Bianca doesn’t belong to the Byrnes anymore. Not to her parents or to her cousins.

She belongs to me.

And I’m not giving her up. Not to anyone. Not without a fight.

Drago lied to me. Ray made me an orphan. Rian Kilpatrick nearly ended my life.

No one in this dark world is innocent. Not even Bianca. Not anymore. I’ve tainted her. Stained her flawless skin with virgin blood. Made her crave the darkness and its depravity.

And I only want more.

Any guilt I had been feeling is burned away as I limp after her clueless father.

I know what must be done.

My fists clench. My heart hardens. I welcome the pain. I bathe in the darkness.

Royal blood be damned, I will be king.

And Bianca will be my queen—whether she likes it or not.

First, though, I need to burn everything to the fucking ground.

It’s the only way to begin my reign.