Page 1 of Broken Princess

PROLOGUE

AURORA

It hurts—everything hurts. My right eye is swollen shut, and I can barely crack open the other. I wish I couldn’t. The scene I’m met with is the stuff of nightmares. My cunt of a husband stands in the middle of the warehouse. He’s positioned behind a body, suspended by the wrists from a meat hook attached to a long, thick metal chain. The chain sways, the weight of the body like a pendulum, making my head swim as I struggle to focus with my good eye.

Max’s hands are stained red, his victim’s shirtless torso mottled with welts and deep, jagged slashes. Blood drips down to the floor as the near lifeless victim huffs ragged breaths, his head lolling forward—obscuring his face. A small crimson stream has formed beneath him and trickles towards the drain at my feet.

My arms and legs are tightly bound to a chair using zip-ties, my body facing them, forcing me to witness what’s unfolding. I must have passed out again, as it had been just the two of us up until now. The addition of this guest is unsettling, and a feeling of dread swells within me.

For four years, I’ve been married to the monster that is Max De Luca. I know exactly what he’s capable of, though I’ve never had to witness the devastation he can wreak on a body as a spectator. When I’m the focus of his depravity, I drift far away, somewhere he can’t affect me. Unfortunately, the first time he pushed me to a state of catatonia, it unleashed a beast I’m glad I was never present enough to fully comprehend. When I zone out, I become his ultimate victim. A doll on which he can practise and perfect his methods.

I pity the man before me. He won’t last much longer. I don’t know when I lost consciousness—or how long I was out this time—but this man has not lasted well against Max’s onslaught. He’s fading fast and my husband is rapidly losing interest in his toy.

Oh joy, me next.

“Welcome back, principessa,” he croons. “I knew you wouldn’t be out for long. Your resilience never ceases to impress me.” His saccharine tone caresses me like a poisonous tendril reaching around my throat, making me want to choke and gag.

I try to respond, but my throat is dry, letting the barest croak escape. “Fuck you, Max.”

“Now, now, wife. Is that any way to treat your husband? Especially when I went out of my way to bring you such a special gift,” he sneers, waving a hand theatrically toward his current victim.

“Half-dead henchman? Ooh, just what I’ve always wanted. How did you know?” I retort, my voice like gravel. We start our familiar dance; one to which we intimately know the footwork. If I crumble or show any kind of weakness, he will tire of me, too. The only reason I have survived this long is by taking everything he has to throw at me. By never letting him see that he’s broken me. I am a husk, but I will not give him the satisfaction of seeing how much of me he has destroyed.

At the sound of my voice, the man stirs. My left eye starts to focus, and I realise why my husband has a maniacal grin on his face. I scream with fear, with anger, with desperation. A dread I’ve never experienced before, settles in my chest and weighs heavy on my heart, paralysing me with terror.

“Say goodbye to daddy, princess.” His face lights up with glee, basking in my realisation. He steps behind my father, grabbing his hair to wrench his head up, exposing his throat. My father’s eyes meet mine, giving me the slightest squint, and I nod back. There’s nothing I can do to help him, and we both know it. This is all we can do. Never has such a slight gesture meant so much to me. His eyes soften and I feel how much he loves me as a lone tear falls down his cheek. I love you, Dad.

Max brings his knife to my father’s throat, and with one clean sweep of his blade—ends him.

As my father’s blood cascades to the floor, I watch the light die in his eyes and drop my gaze to my knees. Tears flood my vision, and my shoulders slump in defeat. I want to wail and scream and break into a thousand tiny pieces. This pain cuts so deeply I can feel it in my soul. He destroyed the most honourable man I have ever known.

Max tilts his head to the side and surveys me. “Have I finally broken you, my little toy?”

I consider his words, trying to wrangle my emotions as my mind wanders. Our marriage was arranged to strengthen the fragile alliance brokered between the Bianchis and the De Lucas. Resistance and infighting had been threatening to destroy the fledgling treaty since its inception. Only through our union could the alliance my father brokered be guaranteed.

My father hated doing it, but being Mateo Bianchi’s daughter, I did what everyone expected of me as his last remaining heir—I did my duty and ended the bloodshed. I married Massimo—Salvatore De Luca’s only son.

Only then did I learn the truth. I hadn’t been married off to a prince. I’d been sacrificed to a monster. A beast I could never escape—an animal I couldn’t put down. Being his wife was a necessity, so I did what I had to. I endured. For my family, for The Syndicate.

But Max has just murdered Mateo Bianchi—the head of the Bianchi family. My father. Fuck The Syndicate. Fuck the De Lucas. And most of all, fuck my cunt of a husband.

“You’re going to have to kill me, Max,” I spit out with a venomous hatred, “because if you don’t, I will burn the whole fucking world down to make you pay.”

“Oh, principessa,” he purrs, stalking toward me, cutting a track through the river of my father’s blood. He leaves a sickening trail of footprints that draws my eyes back to my father’s lifeless corpse. Max crouches, then strokes his hand down my cheek. “How I’d love to see you try. You’ve always been my favourite plaything, but alas, our time together is at an end.” His hushed tone is almost mournful. “I wish I was allowed to keep you.”

My brow lifts as his words register. His eyes hold mine in a penetrating gaze and they show hunger, obsession, anger. But this time there’s more. More than his thirst to inflict maximum pain. I can see it clear as day. There’s some part of him that doesn’t want to kill me.

As this thought drifts to the front of my mind, a searing pain slices through me and I look down, surprised to see his knife lodged in my chest.

“Farewell, principessa,” he whispers softly against my ear.

With a strangled breath I hiss, “Fuck you, Max.”

CHAPTER ONE

ENZO

Hanging up the phone, I walk through to the kitchen. We’re waiting for a call and the team needs to be ready to go at any time. Perched on a stool at the kitchen island, Sinclair is engrossed in his laptop while Benedict rummages through the fridge in search of snacks. Sinclair is my resident tech specialist and oldest friend. Surveillance and tracking are his forte, though he’s also known for his ability to liberate funds from our targets’ offshore accounts. Being self-funded comes in handy for anything not explicitly sanctioned by The Syndicate. Intellectually, he’s the biggest geek you’ll meet, but physically, he’s built like the rest of us. He’s just as likely to be found throwing down in a fight as Benedict.

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