Page 2 of God of War

"Of course,príncipe." Nicolas dips his head. "I meant no disrespect."

I don't respond. He never means any disrespect, but he skirts the line anyway. He's old school, old guard. And he still remembers when I was a teenager, trying to wear this crown and bury my mother at the same damn time. It wasn't pretty. Nothing I do ever is.

He's right, though. It is time for a more direct approach. It's been time for a while.

I wait for my office door to click closed behind him before pulling open my desk drawer and reaching inside. I grab the photo on top, lifting it out. My gaze runs over the image.

"Brynna Sullivan," I murmur, eyes locked on the girl staring up at me. She's gorgeous in a way that's unsettling. Long red hair frames an angelic, heart-shaped face. Her skin is so translucent I can trace the veins beneath. Ample curves have my hands itching to know what they feel like beneath my fingers.

It's those fucking eyes that really get me, though. They're the clearest green I've ever seen, staring right out of the image and into my fucking soul.

In the photo, she's fresh-faced. Innocent. There's a fascinating purity to her, like the harshness of our world hasn't touched her. It's bullshit, though. In this world, no one is truly innocent. We've all got blood on our hands. We're all guilty.

Her father certainly is. His list of crimes is as long as my own.

And if he wants to fuck with my business, there's a price to pay. His family. Specifically, his pretty little daughter.

The only thing in this world he gives a shit about are his kids. It's a well-known fact that he dotes on her and her older brother, Niall. They want for nothing, lack nothing, and are threatened by nothing.

Until now.

If he wants war, so be it. I'll fight…but I'm not fighting fair. He took something that belonged to me. I'm taking something that belongs to him.

Who knows? I may even let him have her back when I'm done.

I stroke my thumb down the photo, my cock throbbing in anticipation.

Or maybe I won't.

Chapter Two

Brynna

Iclose my eyes and inhale deeply as my fingers dance over cracked leather spines. The smell of old ink and musty, yellowed paper hovers in the air around me, bringing an instant smile to my face.

I could live in here and not regret a single second of it.

"Brynna, are you even listening to me?" My older brother, Niall, clearly isn't on the same page as me. His disgruntled question rips me right out of my happy bubble, plunking me down in cold, hard reality.

I prefer the happy bubble.

"Nope," I say cheerfully, just to rile him up. "Didn't hear a word."

In actuality, I heard everything he said. I was just trying to pretend the nonsense he's spouting about a charity gala is someone else's reality instead of my own. I'd much prefer to stay right here all day, thank you very much.

"Dammit," he growls. "Can you please be serious? This is important."

"So is this. Bookstore. Literature presentation. Half of my grade…ringing any bells?" I ask, only partially teasing. If he had his way, I wouldn't be in college right now. I'd be at home with him and our father, safely tucked away behind our mountainous walls, and whichever of their men drew the babysitting-Brynna-for-the-day straw.

Never mind the fact that I'm twenty-one years old and more than capable of babysitting myself. In their world—our world—I'm to be protected at all costs. It's more than mildly infuriating. It's also precisely why I started college two years later than everyone else.

It took me that freaking long to convince them to let me go. Campus is my sanctuary, the one place in the world where I'm actually free of the pressures of being…well, me. I'm not Brynna Sullivan, daughter of Nolan Sullivan, Irish mobster, when I'm at school. I'm just Brynna, boring college student.

At least, I would be if they'd leave me alone for longer than five minutes at a time. As soon as class ends for the day, my phone is ringing. It's exhausting, honestly.

Who does a girl have to kill to get a little peace and quiet?

Everyone, apparently.

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