Page 5 of King of Praise
The next few seconds blur together in a chaos of motion and sound. His hand tightens further, squeezing the life out of me. Pain explodes across my cheekbone as his fist connects again.
I blindly thrust the knife forward. Desperate to survive. To end this nightmare.
The pressure on my throat releases. Lucas stumbles backward, looking down at the blade protruding from his chest with an almost comical expression of surprise. Like he can’t quite process what he’s seeing.
“You…” he manages. Blood bubbles at the corner of his mouth.
He takes another staggering step, then his knees buckle. He pitches forward, falling heavily against me. A wet warmth spreads across my dress before I realize it’s his blood. With a choked cry, I shove his body away. He crashes to the floor with a loud thump.
Blood pools beneath him, creeping across the floor in a steadily widening circle. His eyes stare at nothing.
I slide down the cabinets until I hit the floor, pulling my knees tight against my chest. My mind fragments, unable to process the scene before me. The cheerful kitchen. The half-mixed cookie batter. The shattered door frame. Lucas’s body, so terribly still.
These elements cannot possibly exist in the same reality. Yet here they are, colliding in my own personal nightmare.
Chapter 2
The Cleaner
Micah
Coffee steam curls from my mug while the others nurse glasses of whiskey. Ever since we sent the head of the Columbus Mafia, Marcus Barone, to prison, meetings between Ezekiel, Sebastian, Eli, and myself have been tense.
We’ve created enemies for ourselves, and we need to identify exactly who they are before we lose the power and freedom we gained. Whatever needs to be done, I’ll do it if it means keeping these men safe.
I’ve known Eli since my mid-twenties and he was barely an adult—two angry boys with more baggage than sense. We worked construction together for a few years before dipping our toes into less honest work, spending weekends drinking cheap beer and raising hell. When life threw punches, we’d throw ‘em right back.
We joined up with the Kings—brothers bound by blood and secrets—when they fled the New York’s mafia scene years ago and started over in Columbus Ohio with the intention of leading honest lives. That hasn’t worked out so well for any of us.
Especially since recent events have drawn the attention of Ezekiel’s former mentor and head of the New York Mafia, Nicolo Moretti.
Ezekiel or Zeke, the older brother, acts every bit of the leader that he is, while his younger brother Sebastian radiates charm that could disarm a room. They bought a rundown warehouse on High Street, transformed it into Club Velvet Petal, and started building their empire.
Eli and I were hired as security, but we soon became more—confidants, muscle when needed, the shadows that handled what couldn’t see daylight. I watched the Kings bring order to Columbus’s chaos, establishing themselves as powerful men who operated outside both the law and crime families.
We’ve been loyal brothers by choice ever since.
Maps of Columbus sprawl across Zeke’s desk with problematic neighborhoods circled in angry red marker. The dim lighting in his second-floor office at the club casts long shadows over our weathered faces as we plan our next moves.
I tap a circled area near the warehouse district. “Costa territory. With Alessandro and Giovanni dead, their people are scrambling. Some will jump ship to the Barones, but others…” My finger traces a path north. “They’ll look for new leadership.”
We had no choice but to take out the Costas when they threatened Zeke’s wife and Columbus Police Department detective, Eve. Alessandro had the audacity to send his son, Giovanni, to Eve’s house to kill her. That didn’t end so well for Gio and nearly put us at war with the local mafia families.
Thankfully, we came out on top, but unless we take control and act like the head of the local mafia, I fear this war is far from over.
Zeke leans forward, dark eyes intent. At fifty-two, he carries authority like a second skin—earned through decades of carefully balanced violence and strategy. “We need those soldiers before Nicolo swoops in from New York.”
“Marcus being in jail helps,” Sebastian adds from his position by the door. He’s the youngest of us at forty-five, but there’snothing soft about him. “His sister Francesca’s smart, but she doesn’t have his connections. People are nervous.”
“They should be.” Eli’s deep voice rumbles from the corner where he looms like a sentinel. “Nicolo won’t let this power vacuum stand. Not to mention his anger at us for making it this way. He’s probably already got people feeling out allegiances.”
“We need to move fast,” I say, studying the map. “The Russo and Gallagher families will try to expand their territories now that the Costas are gone and the Barones have lost power. But Victor Russo’s getting old. His son Nick is unstable. He’s more likely to start a war than build alliances.”
Zeke makes a note in his precise handwriting. “And Connor Gallagher?”
“Still bitter about that boxing match you rigged against him years ago.” I can’t help the slight smile. “But he’s pragmatic. Might be willing to negotiate if we approach right.”
“Through his sister Rachel,” Sebastian suggests. “She handles their legitimate businesses. More level-headed.”
