Page 1 of Heir of Fire
ONE
FINN
The stenchof sweat and liquor clung to the walls of the rundown dive bar, creating a foul odor. After spending the past five months hitting up random bars around the country with just his bike and a backpack, Finn had grown used to the smell.
He was somewhere in Pennsylvania now. The border fifty miles back. The bar was small, but it had liquor and that was exactly what he needed. He didn’t come to socialize; he came to run from his issues like a fucking coward.
An older couple occupied one of the ripped-up leather booth seats that sat against the wall, and a couple biker dudes played pool in the center of the room. Everyone minded their own business, which was perfect.
He wasn’t there to give them any trouble. These days, he kept his head down, sat at the counter closest to the bartender and ordered whiskey to get the buzz going as quick as he could.
There was something tranquil about driving all day, watching the sunset, and then drinking all night. It was a freedom he had never been afforded in his life. Ever.
Maybe he should have considered himself lucky now, but instead the thought made him nauseous. Thinking about thecircumstances that brought on his freedom only pushed him to drink more.
He finished his whiskey and motioned for another one.
The bartender, an older woman with streaks of graying hair, slid another over. Ever since Finn came in, she’d been eyeing him suspiciously, most likely wondering if he had the money to pay for all the alcohol he’d been drinking. Honestly, he couldn’t blame her. He looked terrible. His hair was past the point of being simply grown out, his stubble was now a beard, and the T-shirt he wore under his leather jacket was full of rips.
Keeping the same clean look from before hadn’t been on his mind when he packed his backpack and left before anyone could stop him.
But he owned an empire now, even if he didn’t fucking want it. The money flowed into his account like a waterfall, and he knew his sister and new asshole brother-in-law were to thank for it. He had never given them his bank information, but somehow, they’d found it.
They could keep it all. He didn’t want any part of the Kingsley businesses or money.
As a matter of fact, they could cut him off completely. Finn wasn’t planning on coming home. Ever. He had nothing left for him there. Sure, Luna was back home, but he could always stop by once a year for the holidays. Her calls and texts were still never ending, but even she would eventually get the hint he wasn’t returning.
Augustus managed to come to terms with it easily enough. He called Finn a dumbass, told him he was a weak asshole, and then wished him the best before extending an invitation to his future wedding to Cecilia that would never happen. But he and Luna both had things for them there; they had families they were going to be starting and creating for themselves.
Finn had nothing.
He slammed down the next drink, not noticing the new presence sitting beside him.
“One scotch and another of whatever he’s having.”
Finn turned his head, finding the urge to slam it against the bar. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
He wished it was a cruel drunk hallucination, but life was just cruel and—unfortunately—real. Valerio fucking Vitali sat beside him completely out of place with a haughty look and his fancy suit.
“Wish I was. Believe me, there are a million places I’d rather be than chasing you down through the middle of nowhere, sitting at a sticky bar, and suffocating on the smells coming off your body.” Valerio grabbed his drink, taking a sip and grimacing when it didn’t match his standards. “I knew you had fallen low, but I didn’t know you were beyond the depths of Hell.”
“Fuck you. You know where the door is,” Finn growled, grabbing the new drink the bartender had handed him. This had to be his fifth.
“See, that’s the problem. My wife can’t stop thinking about if you’re in danger or not, and despite me telling her you’re fine—even though I could care less about what happens to you—you being gone is putting a real damper on our marital bliss,” Valerio said, shrugging.
“Tell her you checked in on me and that I’m fine. Then get the hell out of here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Valerio let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. He reached into his suit jacket, pulling out a gun and setting it on the bar. “I don’t think you’ve realized that you don’t have a choice.”
Finn couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the intimidation tactics. “You’re not going to kill me.”
“Easy for me to put a bullet in you, tell Luna they found your body on the side of the road in a motorcycle accident, let hermourn and then move on with our lives,” he said. “But you’re right, I won’t kill you. I don’t need to kill you to bring you home, though.”
Finn narrowed his eyes, confused at the words. It didn’t matter when a single pinch went through his neck, followed by a burning sensation. He tried to fight, to stand, but his entire body felt like jello, forcing him to fall against the bar.
He fought against the drowsiness long enough to see Allister Moretti set a briefcase of cash on the bar to pay off the bartender from saying anything. Valerio stood, pulling out his phone before walking out the door.
To make matters worse, Dante Vitali entered his eyesight. He stared down at him with narrowed eyes. “Huh, I thought I gave you enough to knock you out. My bad.”
