Page 1 of Brutal King

PROLOGUE

GIDEON

Briar House

Staten Island, New York

“Where. Is. She?”

Before I can even pretend to mutter an incoherent word, I receive a blow to my side that knocks the wind out of me. I’d double over if it wasn’t because of the ropes keeping me bound to the steel chair in the center of the small hold.

Luca Sinacore motions his man to pause the beating. “Where is Sofia?”

I spit out a concerning amount of blood and look up at him. “Can,” I cough. “Can I share a bit of advice?”

“What?” It takes a moment to clear my throat and he comes nearer. “What is it, asshole?”

“Never listen to anyone that tells you to cut your hair. Really, man. With that light behind you, it’s like a halo. Fucking glorious.” I cough again, but manage to give him a wink.

His jaw clenches and sheer unadulterated fury fills his stare. He nods to his man, the signal to continue what he’s been doingfor the last few hours. Or is it days? I’ve passed out so many times, it’s hard to tell.

Noah Esposito, once hitman, now head of the Gianni crime family in New Jersey steps into my line of sight. It doesn’t make sense that Luca would choose him out of all the Sinacore Alliance members to not-so-gently persuade me to divulge Sofia’s location. He’s been trained to kill, not to keep his targets alive.

But given the recent decline in the number of men that originally formed the group meant to stop me from carrying out my plans, I suppose he didn’t have much of a choice.

I’m not certain if it’s to my advantage, however. On the one hand, Noah seems to have forgotten about the medieval looking devices he set on the table next to me— rusty knives, clamps, and something that resembles a horrific butt plug. On the other, he certainly hasn’t forgotten about his fists.

Again and again, he takes me near the brink of death, but pulls back just before I pass out. My head rolls, feeling leaden and concussed.

“It’s edging without the fun.” I laugh and fuck it hurts.

“Tell me where his sister is, and I’ll let you finish,” Noah says with so much sincerity, I might believe him if not for the fact that I know he’s enjoying my suffering.

“What did I ever do to you?” It’s not meant to be a serious question. I know what I did.

But he answers me anyway. “You blew up my house. You used my girl to get to me.”

“Tut-tut.” If I could, I’d wave a finger at him. “Youused her for revenge.Iused her father. Big difference.”

The truth only earns me another whack against my jaw, one that leaves me with a severe ringing in my ears and blurry vision.

Fuck. I’m starting to think he might actually kill me.

“One more chance,” Luca’s voice booms painfully in my head. “Where is my sister?!”

“Kings—.” I cough with my head bent low. Blood sprays onto my lap, covering my expensive gray slacks in crimson. “Kingsbr?—.”

“What the fuck does that mean? What is king?” Luca leans in slightly, enough that he blocks the incandescent light from the overhead lamp.

I lift my one good eye to him and grin at the annoyance on his face. “Not what. Who.”

He sharpens his gaze on me, as if by doing so he’ll be able to dig up the thoughts in my mind. “Whois King?”

“I’m glad you asked.” I force myself to remain steady, to ignore the throbbing in my temples and the stabbing pain in every muscle. “Me,” I hiss. “I am king. And your sister is my ransom.”

Luca smirks. “Fine. I’ll trade your sorry ass for her. Now, tell me where she is.”

“I never said I’d trade.” I cough again and grimace. Fuck, I may have a broken rib or two. “I just said she’s my ransom.”

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