Page 95 of Fierce Monarch

Keeping my eyes on the shiv, I shook. He looked down and startled, as if he’d forgotten he had it in his hand. With an apologetic grimace, he tucked it away under his bed and came back.

“I’d say it was a pleasure to meet you, but I don’t know if that’s true quite yet. Is Killer an accurate nickname?” He smiled at my question, and it changed his whole face, making him look way younger than I’d expected.

“Fuck me, how old are you?”

“Twenty-one and, yes, it’s accurate.”

Christ, he was a kid and a murderer. I mean, it wasn’t a surprise in our lives, but still. He should’ve been in college or going to bars, more focused on getting laid and setting his life up for success. Instead, he was in jail.

While I grappled with that, he lifted up the gray T-shirt he wore and flashed a tattooed chest at me. I stepped back, holding my hands between us. “Look, man. I’m not interested in?—”

“Fuck off.” He laughed as he tapped the skin near his hip.

I had to get way too fucking close to his junk to see the insignia, but there it was. The filigree M that all Marcosa men had. “You’re one of ours?”

He nodded, then shook his head. “I was initiated, but I got picked up almost immediately after. No time on the ground.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.” If he’d been asked to initiate, especially as young as he was, it meant Mari had a reason to ask him to. “What’s the protection like in here?”

He dropped the shirt and settled against the opposite wall. “Not much, but it keeps us alive. Most of it has been in place since Antoni was in power.”

He said the name with such reverence that I reevaluated him. “You one of Antoni’s boys?”

There had been whispers even in Chicago of Antoni taking street kids and initiating them early, giving them a chance to get their lives in order. They were desperate and foolish, but Antoni wasn’t the type to play fast and loose with someone’s life, and he didn’t mistreat them. If he initiated them, he thought they had a chance at something better.

The kid nodded, and I could admit, I was shocked. I’d assumed most of the kids had died early trying to prove themselves. Apparently not.

“How long?”

“Was I in the family, or how long have I been here?”

“Both.”

“Seven years in the family, six in here.”

Christ, he was fourteen when he blooded into the family, and he’d been arrested just before Antoni had died. That was young. He was either stupid, desperate, or seriously good at his job.

“Tell me what I’m getting into here,” I said, taking a chance that he really was on our side. He was still in here, still alive, but who knew if he was loyal to our queen. Jail changed people; I didn’t have to be in here to know it.

He ran me through the basics. The food lines, the commissary, the way cell checks went. He also told me which guards were more lenient to contraband than others. Killer or not, he was a fucking gold mine of info. He’d just spelled out the current gangs and their holdings inside the jail when he explained that there’d been some strange dealings lately.

“Guards who’ve been clean are turning their heads at beatings, longtime rivals suddenly working together to smuggle shit in, best friends killing each other in their sleep. No rhyme or reason to any of it, man.”

“How long?”

“About six months ago.”

“Around the time Rey died.” Mari’s former underboss had been feared and revered in equal measure, and his loss had rocked the foundation of the Marcosa name.

Killer hummed. “There’s always chaos when power shifts, even in here, but this was worse.”

Sitting on my bed, back against the wall, I wondered if it had something to do with not just Cash, but Nate. How long had he been out of the Army? How long had he been in the city?

Was he the catalyst for all this?

Not knowing how much time I had, I decided to utilize Killer’s information and put the fear of god back into the Marcosa name. But first… “Have you heard anything about Cash in here?”

“Only that he’s a fucking psycho.” I raised a brow, and Killer blew out a breath. “Honestly, it’s his people who make me nervous.”

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