Page 1 of The Devil In Disguise

Prologue

“She’s dead.”

What? No. Everything is wrong. All wrong.

Mama usually comes to wake me up in the mornings, not my father. When I asked him where Mama was, that’s all he has to say? I must have heard him wrong. He’s far too calm, so I just stare up at him blankly.

“It happened last night,” he continues.

I feel my world start to spin slightly.

This isn’t real. He’s lying.

She’s going to walk through my bedroom door any minute now. Or better yet, this has to be some twisted nightmare I’m in. Yeah, that’s it. I’ll just close my eyes and wake myself up.

“Boy, what the hell are you doing? Are you listening to me? Open your eyes, dumbfuck. She’s gone. The only next step is forward.”

I open my eyes and stare back at the same dead eyes I’ve been avoiding my whole life. Mama is the pillar of our family, she holds us together. I can’t lose her. I refuse to believe it. So, I tell him as much.

“I don’t believe you. You’re lying!”

“They haven’t gotten rid of her body if you want to take a look for yourself. Down in the library,” he says casually, as if he was pointing me in the direction of a book I needed. As if it’s not Mama’s—his wife’s—rotting corpse.

How did I not hear anything happening? Could I have saved her if I was awake?

We stare each other down in a silent challenge before I relent and get out of bed. I hear his footsteps following behind me as I rush down the stairs towards the library, barreling through the double doors.

I stop dead in my tracks when I see a body lying on the floor near the middle of the room. Taking slow, shaky steps toward the lifeless body, I see the dried-up blood where it must have pooled around her hours ago. An agonizing sob rips through my throat and I slap a palm over my mouth when I round the body to see her frozen, pale face. A single bullet right in the center of her head is what killed her. Not an accident.

I never cry. I’m not allowed to, but I can’t stop the tears from falling. All I feel is a heart-wrenching pain taking over my body. I’ve just lost a piece of myself, a piece of me that died with her. Her eyes are open, but they no longer shine with warmth and love. Instead, they look soulless—like the eyes that woke me up this morning.

I don’t register my father walking into the room, nor do I feel him pulling me away. What I do feel is the force of his hand slapping me hard across the face, his ring slicing my cheekbone. Renato Kincaid does not tolerate crying—it’s a sign of weakness. My whole life Mama and I listened to him, followed his rules and orders. Where did that leave her?

“What’s wrong with you? She’s dead,” I say, shoving him with all my strength. He’s the king of the city; I know he can have a bullet in my head with the snap of his fingers for so much as raising my voice at him, for disrespecting him. I couldn’t care less right now—there’s no place I think I’d rather be at the moment. “How did this happen? I saw her just before I went to bed. I…are you kidding me right now? Why are you grinning at a time like this?”

A strange emotion passes through my father’s eyes, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. “I know your mother and I weren’t a match made in heaven, but trust me when I say I had no reason to kill her. But I know who did and I plan on doing something about it. I tried to stop them, but somehow they snuck in and made it out in one piece. Although, I have a sneaking suspicion that someone on the inside was helping them.”

I don’t remember when I balled my hands up into fists, but I can feel my nails breaking through the skin on my palm. My ears are faintly ringing, but I still hear him speak.

“We need to get back at them. You are fourteen-years-old, Kylo. It’s about time you train to take your spot in the family hierarchy.”

Mama and I always whispered at night about how she would make sure I never became my father. We talked about everything, good and bad. She was the closest person to me. She loved me and kept me safe. She was a good person—far too good for this shitty world—and they still took her from me.

I can physically feel my heart freezing over and turning black.

“They tried to hide from me,” he continues, guiding me toward the couch. “But they left something behind. More like someone. Their one and only precious baby girl. Left her right on someone’s doorstep to watch over her. Don’t you see? This is how we’ll get to them. Our world isn’t black and white, son. I’ll teach you what I like to call the long game. We bide our time until the moment is right, then we strike for the kill when they are at their weakest.” He gives me a once-over. “And you will be at your strongest. In this world, people are no better than whatever scum you pick up on the bottom of your shoe. You have to make them bend to your will. Make them listen to you. Make them fear you. One day, you’ll have it all. You’ll get your revenge and become king of Brooklyn. You’ll have all the power you can think of.”

Mama’s sweet, hopeful voice starts to fade in my head, replaced by my father’s words that fuel my rapidly growing rage and blind hatred. The man is all I have now, anyway.

Maybe some people do deserve to die. Mama wasn’t one of them, but whoever is responsible for this is.

I’ll make sure of it.

Chapter 1

11 years later

After a long day dealing with angry customers and a bitchy coworker, the only person that can put a smile on my face is my mama. It’s not unusual for me to come by the house after a shift or on my days off just to spend time with her, despite having moved about twenty minutes away from home. I love this penthouse. I have some of my best memories here, but it’s not how I want to live my life.

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