Page 3 of In the Shadows

Nausea rolls over me at the thought. He’s dead because of me. I’m the reason my father’s life has ended, and I’m going to have to live with that, unless these two idiots kill me at least. Another wave hits me as a startling thought rolls over me. If I manage to escape, I have no one. I have nothing. I’m all alone.

“Now, if you’re a good girl, we’ll make this quick. But if you’re bad…” the one in front of me starts.

“Then we’ll drag this out for hours,” the one behind me finishes.

I consider my options for only a moment before I do the only thing I can and slam my elbows back into the gut of the man holding me, before immediately kneeing the one in front of me in the balls as hard as I can manage. I don’t hesitate before running farther into the alley. The other way likely has more of their men, because a man like Davenport isn’t dumb enough to only send two men to take care of a problem. He may not know I’ve been training for moments like this my whole life, but he won’t underestimate the daughter of a rival Mafia family either.

My feet hit the ground hard and fast as I push my body harder than I have in years. I was on the track team my sophomore year, but I had to give it up when my workload got too much. I’m meant to be starting at Yale in the fall, but at this point, I think I can admit that’s not going to happen.

Several sets of footfalls behind me push me harder.

I’m not dying today.

I’m not dying today.

I’m not fucking dying today.

I repeat it over and over again until I can almost believe it, but then reality comes crashing down on me. Or maybe not reality so much as a huge body tackling me so hard the air leaves my lungs, and then I hit the concrete. My bare skin tears as I slide to a stop, and a loud cry echoes off the alleyway.

“I guess it’s the hard way, then.”

The man who tackled me rises to his feet and shoves me onto my back. Four men surround me, their faces blurry through the tears I didn’t realize I was crying, but I don’t bother wiping them away. I don’t need to watch these men as they kill me.

A boot slams into my ribs, followed by another, and another after that. Over and over again, their heavy boots kick me, my stomach, my legs, my head, and the pain that follows makes me wish for death. It has to be a kinder fate than what they’re doing to me.

“Shouldn’t have run, cunt,” the one who was standing in front of me before snarls right before he slams his foot down in the middle of my stomach.

I choke on the scream that tears from my throat, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t drag in a breath. This is it.

I close my eyes and allow the agony to overwhelm me.

They say death is peaceful, but that’s not going to be my experience.

CHAPTER TWO

BISHOP

I’m bored.

I have been for a while, but telling my father that is impossible because I shouldn’t be. The work we do, the world we live in, it should be enough to satisfy me, but the longer we do it, the longer we rule over the five families of New York, the more monotonous our lives become. Well, mine, at least.

Kaos and Kovu get to have all the fun. Tearing people apart is pretty much their job description at this point, and they fucking love it. They thrive off blood and death, the things all four of us used to.

But I have one of the boring roles. I’m the guy who takes care of problems, the diplomatic one, the one who can fix things with words rather than my fists. It’s fucking boring.

I look down at the papers spread out in front of me. The underworld of New York is a strangely complex place. When we stepped into this role all those years ago, I never knew it would take up so much time keeping criminals in line, but perhaps I should have been able to put those pieces together.

Our underground fight club is bringing in good money, but not as much as it did this time last year. There’re more than enough patrons. People fucking love the violence of it, but they’re not betting like they used to, and I have to figure out how to fix that. It’s not as simple as you may think to make people gamble with money they don’t have.

I sigh and glance up at the wall of screens in front of me. The complex we’ve turned into our home and the hub of our operations is huge, but that also means it takes a lot of security to keep it secure. It’s been quiet the last few weeks. It always is around the holidays because the families of New York tend to travel away from the city for their celebrations, and no one they leave in charge is dumb enough to fuck up while they’re gone. But this is also the time of year when I’m most restless. I fucking hate being idle. I hate doing nothing. And I know I’m not the only one.

The four of us, the Princes of the New York underworld as you will, aren’t stagnant men. We wouldn’t be in this line of work if that were the case. We’d be accountants or some shit.

I snort at the thought of Kaos in a suit behind a desk with a spreadsheet open in front of him, and then outwardly laugh at the idea of Kovu trying to reign in investors.

The laugh catches in my throat when I notice something in the alley behind the garage. We have an expansive collection of cars, and the garage takes up an entire floor of one of the two buildings we joined together to form our home and workplace. If you were to look at the two nondescript buildings, you would think they’re full of office workers typing and phones ringing, but what these buildings house is much darker.

I wheel closer to the screen and inspect the black-and-white image. Is that a person?

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