Page 71 of The Mafia's Omega Queen

Blowing out a harsh breath, I push the pain to the back of my mind and grip the dagger tighter as I spin the doorknob and crack it open. I take a beat to listen to see if anyone notices, but not one person pays a lick of attention, then it goes silent for a moment, and I take the chance to slip through the crack in the door.

The place is definitely not what I expected. Especially after seeing the state the basement is in. It almost looks like Lionel has been squatting here for a while. Which is crazy because he just attacked Mom and Dad not that long ago.

But appearances can be deceiving. He could have easily set up that attack from here, and if he were successful, he could just jump a plane and try to claim my throne without me even knowing it was happening.

The door to the basement leads straight into a gourmet kitchen any experienced chef would be jealous of, the stainless steel appliances gleaming in the light coming through the bank of windows on the back of the house. There’s a set of French doors that lead into a carefully manicured backyard, and I could easily take that route out of here, but I won’t. Someone needs to die first before I get free.

A group of soldiers run past the windows, and I duck behind the pearly white cabinets, shielding myself from their view. They are heading toward what I can only think is the front of the house, toward my men who are diligently fighting to get me back.

A single set of footsteps head toward my direction, and I palm the blade in my hand, ready to take them out if they discover me. The person, who I now know is a woman, runs past my hiding spot toward the basement. I knew it was only a matter of time before someone was sent down there for me or Bianca.

She’s in for one hell of a wake-up call when and if she figures out Bianca is dead before I can dispatch of her.

On silent feet, I creep behind her, snickering to myself. She’s so damn engrossed in getting to me that she doesn’t even realize that danger is right on her heels. Danger being me. I’m the baddest motherfucker in this house, not that any of them realize it. Yet.

She stops at the basement door and rips it open. “Annabelle, Mr. Kilroy wants you to grab the omega and bring her up!” she shouts. She waits for a reply, but one never comes. “God dammit, Annabelle! Stop being a fucking bitch, and let’s go! You can cry over how much you hate the little skank later!”

I stand to my full height behind her, wishing I was just a little taller when I realize she’s got a good eight or nine inches on me. No matter. She’ll still die. Just need a little creativity.

I tap on her shoulder and brace myself for her to attempt to grab me. She spins around, and her eyes widen in shock and a little fear. It’s a beautiful thing to see. “Sorry, Bianca can’t come to the door right now. Please leave a message, and she’ll get back to you,” I cackle gleefully, my face splitting into a maniac grin. “Or not. The bitch is dead.”

She gazes at me in stunned silence for a mere moment before recognition flashes in her eyes, and then she moves. But she’s not fast enough. Her limbs are slow and sluggish in comparison to mine, and the little devil on my shoulder happy dances as her face contorts in horror. Knowing her end is near.

Her eyes plead with mine to let her live, and if I were a better person, I probably would. But I’m not. Resignation replaces horror as my blade flashes through the air, embedding itself directly into her Carotid artery. The killing shot. Her life is over, but it was over the moment she agreed to keep me here captive.

I rip the knife out of her neck, once again bathing myself in the blood of my enemies, and kick out my foot, sending her flying down the basement stairs. There’s a good chance she’ll be dead before she even hits the floor, but if not, she will be shortly.

Not wanting to wait around for her body to hit rock bottom, I race out of the kitchen, my feet skidding across the tile floor. The blood covering my body makes me slip and slide as I try to gain purchase to get the fuck out of here.

A scream gets trapped in my throat as one of the windows behind me shatters, and a loud whoosh followed by a raging inferno of flames sears my back as I just barely make it out of the kitchen and into the main room of the house.

My body is moving faster than my slippery feet can keep up, and I slam into one of the couches with an oomph. Luckily, the shouts and cries of those fighting drown out any noise I make. It’s almost like I’m a silent, clumsy shadow moving through the house with no one the wiser.

My ears strain to hear above the shouting and the crackles and pops coming from the direction of the kitchen, listening for any signs that there may be others I need to dispatch before I can take on the final two left standing. It must be fate that there is no one else around, or any other troops streaming in from opposite directions, anyone that could give away my shadow status.

Blowing out a breath and gaining my bearings, I look ahead to find the front double doors wide open, with Lionel standing a little further back, directing his people to go out and kill those who dare to break into his compound. Some of those men and women look scared as shit, but with a scream from Kilroy, they hustle out the door straight into their deaths. One man remains behind, standing sentinel next to Lionel. This must be his second; whoever the fuck that is.

The two bastards are side-by-side, watching as carnage ensues on the front lawn. They don’t make a move to lift a hand to help or call for any additional backup. This is their final stand. It’s noticeable in the set of their shoulders, but a tiny bit of nervousness radiates from his second as he constantly scrubs his hands through his hair.

It almost seems to be that he wants to go out and help, but Lionel is keeping him indoors. The thought that he’s not even Lionel’s second flits through my mind, there one second and gone the next. The dude is huge, not as big as my stabby alpha, but still large, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility that he’s his hired guard, set to protect him if they breach the entrance.

Their biggest mistake, though, is not having anyone to watch their backs. They, no doubt, think they are safe where they stand. That nothing could get them with the rest of their people scattered around, fighting off their foes. Glancing behind me, the whole kitchen is engulfed in flames. There’s not a chance of anyone sneaking up on them from behind. Or so they think.

My biggest hurdle is getting the big man’s attention so I can dispose of him. There’s nothing near me heavy enough that I can use to throw in order to gain his awareness, and I highly doubt a pillow will suffice for what I need. Though it would be funny as fuck to instigate a pillow fight with the asshole. Feathers would be flying everywhere, but knowing my luck, I’d come out of this looking like a damn chicken rather than a badass omega mafia princess.

Shit. Focus.

I’ll have to improvise.

How? Fuck if I know, but my time is quickly running out before they figure out what’s her ass isn’t coming back.

A squeak leaves my lips as I drop to the ground when the big guy turns around. It’s faint as hell, but I can hear him ask, “Where the hell is Angel? She should have been back here by now with Annabelle and the omega.”

Dammit. That’ll teach me not to push my thoughts out into the universe.

“Find them.” Those two words ring clear and true, heard even over the macabre cacophony happening beyond the door. A shudder wracks my body at the tenor of his voice, something that will haunt me for the rest of my life. But I can make his command work in my favor. I won’t have to improvise anymore; my prey will come to me.

Heavy boots slam into the ground, rattling my teeth as douchebag number one, as I’ve affectionately named him, races back through the house toward the blazing kitchen.

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