Page 4 of The Tallest Tower (Underbelly Enchanted)

“We’re supposed to respect our fathers.” Her lips are plump. Bowed and kissable. I already know—we’ve done it a million times. “You’ve got them mixed up.”

“Nah.” I settle my forehead on hers and shake my head gently from side to side. “We’re supposed to be given fathers worthy of respect. But Timothy rules with fear, not admiration.”

“He controls my father. He controls everything.”

“He won’t control me.” I press a kiss to her lips, and smirk when she receives it the way she always has.

Sixteen, in the real world, is sixteen. Young. Dumb. Childish, still. But sixteen in our world: you’re either claimed by the mafioso’s kid, or you’re claimed by the mafioso.

I know which she’d prefer. And I know which one she won’t survive.

“Tim doesn’t want to rule,” I murmur on an almost whisper. “He likes our father even less than I do. And Archer would slit the asshole’s throat in his sleep if he could sneak in and get away with it.”

“So, what, then? You want to become the next Malone ruler whose sons hate him? Whose sons would kill him if they could?”

I cough out a laugh and drag my bottom lip between my teeth. “I’m never making kids, Silly Savvy. Not sons. Not daughters. But I will rule.”

“Because you want the power? You want to be in charge?”

“Nuh-uh.” I study her eyes. “Because I don’t want my brothers tohave to do it. I don’t want that to be their future. I want them to be able to have sons, if they want them.”

“So you’re the martyr,” she deadpans. “Their savior?”

I flash a wide grin and tap the bow of her lips with the tip of my tongue. “A little self-serving, a little self-sacrificing. I won’t mind the power that comes with being the king of New York. It’s a best-case scenario thing.”

She rolls her eyes, but a warm blush fills her cheeks. “You can’t be king, silly. Cordoza is king—and Mancino controls the next largest part of the city.”

“So I’ll kill them both on the way up. Right after I kill Tim.” I dart forward, faster than she expects, and feel a mild stab of guilt when our lips clash and the back of her head raps against the wall.

But I kiss her anyway. I taste her tongue and hold her body beneath my hands.

Savannah Elizabeth Towers will be my queen someday.

We just have to survive our fathers first.

“Felix!”

I jump back and balk when my father himself stalks around the side of the house with a brand-new baby in one hand, and a gun in the other.

Savvy’s father follows, supporting the baby’s mother.

She’s young. Emaciated. Bleeding. Sweating.

Sobbing.

She’s in a bad way. But all I can think about is me and Savvy. How we meant to run to the trees, and got caught up here instead. How we intended to escape—for the day, at least—but spontaneity has us standing out in the open like fools.

“Come. Now.” The second our eyes meet, Tim lifts his chin and summons me closer, one shaky step at a time.

I leave Savvy on her own, pressed to the wall and wide-eyed, and look to her father, who holds up the nameless woman. Not in a lover’s embrace, and not as support, the way a person typically cares for someone who is sickly. Instead, he merely grips her arm and creates a brace meant only to keep her from hitting the dirt.

But his attention is on me, his eyes burning against the side of my face. Then they jump over my shoulder and stop on his daughter’s.

Pain. Rage. Fear. Worry. Every emotion passes through his expression so I read him as easily as Micah reads a book.

But he has a job to do, so he says nothing about finding us out here together.

Hedoesnothing, except carry the young woman who will likely bleed to death anyway.

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