Page 13 of Mafie Kings

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Jerking awake, I grab at my hands. Relief floods over me when I find I have the freedom to sit up and move. My body is shaking and dripping in sweat. Nausea churns my stomach. I start my breathing exercises and repeat my mantra until everything starts to calm. As soon as the shaking subsides, I toss the blankets aside and throw on some running gear. I grab the blades from my nightstand, strapping them to my thigh along with my running light.

The trails are lit in some places, but others require a light if you decide to go at three in the morning. I grab my headphones and jog down the stairs, letting the adrenaline work through my system. Once I’m outside, I put in a single headphone and turn on my ‘Fuck Off’ playlist. I start on the trail that runs behind our building, knowing it’s the longer of the three.

You would think being on an island with the children of the most notorious criminals on the planet, that running alone at night wouldn't be the best idea. You could say that I like to live on the wild side, but the truth is I can throw a blade at a moving target while I’m running and still hit the bullseye nine out of ten times. That, and I read over the rules of Elysium very carefully.

The Society helps run Elysium from afar while also being a governing body for all of the world's mafia and the majority of the criminal underworld. They are the ones to hire teachers, advance the curriculum, and provide the materials needed. No one knows exactly where they get the money to run the university, but it’s extremely well-funded. The members are also unknown. They could be one of our teachers or even the people who prepare our food. and we would have no idea. If you’re ever brought before them in a trial, everyone wears a mask or sits behind tinted glass and all votes are anonymous.

There are only three rules required to maintain order on the island. The first and main rule of the island was no killing. If any of the students were to break this rule, they wouldn’t just be kicked out, you would pay for blood with blood. If you take a life here, the Mafie Society will take yours.

The second was to always be on time. If you received special permission to leave early or arrive late because of a certain task or injury, then you would receive a colored card to present to the teacher/instructor. If you’re injured or sick, you receive a special bracelet that the infirmary will remove when you are allowed to resume studies as normal. This prevents those who are injured from attempting to drive or fly or fight until they are fully healed and cleared by medical.

The third rule is to always follow the Kings. The elite club was established shortly after Elysium became a university. They are the second governing body on the island. They have the power to kick you out if you don’t follow their orders, or if they deem that you broke a rule. The premise of the club is to mimic the Italian mafia hierarchy, and their superiors are referred to as the Cosa Nostra. They have ties all over the world as well as the power to destroy or create any regime worldwide.

Thus, the Kings answer to no one and have control over the people. And I’m being served up to them on a silver platter.

Chapter 7

I walk out to the balcony after trying to sleep for the past three hours. This place is already suffocating. I can feel my father's expectations holding onto me like a lead vest. This next year is going to be worse than the past twenty, I know it already.

I grab my sketchbook and start working on a tattoo for Damien. I know he’s been wanting something to cover part of his hip ever since a random chick pointed out the scar there when he won a match a few months back.

I still remember the look in his eyes when she pointed it out. I also remember the look he gave her and how fast she ran away.

Inspiration just isn't hitting right though. I have the right image, but I can't seem to find a way to make it flow with the scar so it's not noticeable.

After an hour of working with the lines, and trashing half the book, I give up and toss what’s left on my bed. Setting aside the idea, for now, I put on a pair of black joggers. If I can't sleep or sketch, I might as well go for a run.

I head downstairs and quietly open the door. The cool night air surrounds me instantly, bringing my mind a sort of calm. I’ve always been a sort of nyctophiliac, seeming to find comfort and calm in the dark. The night sky seems to call to me, even more so tonight, so I pick the longer trail hoping to push my distance and set a new PR.

A blur of movement up ahead causes me to pause. Who else is out running at three in the morning?

I reach for the tactical whip I keep around my waist as my eyes adjust.

Reflections of silver hair and a small running flashlight bounce behind the shadows. A woman's body comes into view, and for a moment, I'm breathless. Her silver hair is in a high ponytail, swaying behind her. I take a moment to look at her face. She's beautiful. She isn't pencil thin like the rest of the women here, and her black crop top looks like she ripped it herself to make it that way. It reads ‘If I'm too much, go find less.’ I can't help but snort. She looks toward me with her brows pinched. Damn, she's gorgeous, and she also looks familiar.

Having to readjust my semi before I begin to run again, I turn to head right toward her.

I can see when she twitches her hand to her thigh that she has a set of throwing knives strapped there. Thank the stars I adjusted myself before this because I'm now rock fucking hard. I give her a smile while keeping pace and put my hands up to show I mean no harm. As I start to speak, she removes the single headphone she has in.

“Mind if I run with you? I forgot my flashlight and wanted to take the longer trail.” It wasn’t really a question, being a King I can do whatever the fuck I want, but something about her has me wanting to ask permission.

She hesitates and recognition seems to spread over her face before she shrugs. “Do what you want, Ghost, but don't expect me to slow down if you can't keep up.”

She puts her headphone in the tiny pocket in the back of her pants. She's smart, not wanting the music to distract her from her environment. I realize she gave me a nickname instead of asking who I was, and I can't help but smile.

“What's with the nickname?” I ask as she keeps side-eyeing me like I'm going to attack her.

She shrugs again. “The car you came in on, the Rolls Royce Ghost, just seemed to fit you.”

With my white hair, I guess I can see it. And apparently, I've caught her attention as much as she's caught mine. The thought makes me smile inwardly.

“Not many people would know that car. It's pretty rare.”

She looks at me then and smiles. My breath hitches in my lungs, and I find myself smiling back when she says, “Kind of like seeing a ghost.”

I laugh in response. I can't remember the last time I laughed like this. It's probably just the running endorphins getting to me. That, combined with the hormones rushing to my cock like Niagara fucking Falls.

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