“What about the Italians?” she asks.
“Fuck them, we’re better than them. And with the Reapers and Wolves having our backs, they don’t stand a fucking chance.” Lowering my lips to hers, I breathe. “Bring it on. Bring it all the fuck on.”
“There’s something really wrong with you.” Although, despite her words, a wide smile spreads across her face.
“Yeah, but you love me for it.”
“I do.” Her eyes soften, and it makes my chest ache in the most incredible way. “I love you, Theo Cirillo.”
“I love you too, Emmie Cirillo. You’re mine, for better or worse, richer or poorer.”
“I’m pretty sure I can get on board with that.” She throws her arms around my shoulders and presses her lips to mine. “But right now,” she says into our kiss, “I want to see you at your worst, boss.”
Spinning her around, I walk us to a dark corner of the club and push her up against the wall.
“You can scream as loud as you like in here, Hellcat.”
“My hero.”
My laughter is swallowed by her kiss as I set about proving to her how I’m anything but.
Toby
My blood burns me from the inside out as I stand in the shadows, just watching.
My heart pounds and my hands tremble as I stay frozen, watching people all dressed in black walking into a church as if the person they’re going to say goodbye to is actually worthy of ever being inside a fucking place of worship.
But maybe they do think he’s a good man. Maybe they believe all the lies, they don’t see the manipulation.
I guess we didn’t understand the depth of it, so why should they?
Who even is this man they’re all mourning? What lies has he spun them over the years? What do they think he does for a job that has allowed him enough time to ruin mine and Mum’s lives while living a secret one on this side of town?
My head spins from the whisky I sank last night in the hope I could sleep through this entire day, but I knew it was wishful thinking. I knew I’d be standing right here, watching this car crash play out.
The others only started their party at dawn, celebrating the demise of another of our enemies, but I couldn’t bring myself to see the joy on their faces. And plus, they didn’t deserve to have me dampening the mood with my misery.
All of them have been through too much recently to be brought down by me and my bullshit.
It shouldn’t be this hard.
We’re free from that sick son of a bitch. I should be able to turn my back on him and walk away.
But I can’t.
It’s why I still turn up to visit him most days of the week to sate my inner monster so that I can rest a little at night, knowing he’s getting exactly what he deserves for the way he treated my mum all these years.
I should be at home spending time with the sister I never knew I had, or my actual biological father. But I can’t. Not while he’s taking up all my headspace.
Until he’s hurting like he’s hurt those I love, I can’t do anything else. I can’t see anything else.
I might not be his son, I might not share his vindictive blood, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t learned from him over the years, or from the training he enforced on me in his quest to make me his perfect protégé.
And just like he taught me, I’m not going to back down until the job is done, until I’ve destroyed every single inch of my enemy, he who did me wrong. And then, and only then, will I look forward to what our lives can be like without such a poisonous snake living among us, controlling us.
A large black hearse comes to a stop at the end of the path that leads to the church, and my heart leaps in my chest.
Is there even a person in that coffin? How much effort has Damien really put into this farce?
It’s a joke, a fucking joke that he even considered doing this for a second, but as much as I don’t understand, doing this has brought me one step closer to my goal.
A second funeral car pulls up and I wait, my heart racing and my skin prickling with anticipation as the driver gets out and pulls open the door for the people sitting inside.
I lean forward, more than ready to get my eyes on the one person I’ve come here for.
An older lady emerges first, followed by another young woman I recognise from all the research I’ve done.
My teeth grind, thinking that she’s not with them. But then a black shoe and a smooth calf emerges.
My heart jumps into my throat as I wait for the rest of her to be revealed.
My new target.
My new enemy.
My ultimate vengeance.
Toby’s story starts in One Reckless Knight.
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HATE YOU PROLOGUE
Tabitha
I stare down at my gran’s pale skin. Her cheeks are sunken and her eyes tired. She’s been fighting this for too long now, and as much as I hate to even think it, it’s time she found some peace.
I take her cool hand in mine and lift her knuckles to my lips.
“It’s Tabitha,” I whisper. I’ve no idea if she’s awake, but I don’t want to startle her.
Her eyes flicker open. After a second they must adjust to the light and she looks right at me. My chest tightens as if someone’s wrapping an elastic band around it. I hate seeing my once so full of life gran like this. She was always so happy and full of cheer. She didn’t deserve this end. But cancer doesn’t care what kind of person you are, it hits whoever it fancies and ruins lives.
Pulling a chair closer, I drop onto it, not taking my eyes from her.
“How are you doing today?” I hate asking the question, because there really is only one answer. She’s waiting, waiting for her time to come to put her out of her misery.
“I’m good. Christopher upped my morphine. I’m on top of the world.”
She might be living her last days, but it doesn’t stop her eyes sparkling a little as she mentions her male nurse. If I’ve heard the words ‘if I were forty years younger’ once while she’s been here, then I’ve heard them a million times. She’s joking, of course. My gran spent her life with my incredible grandpa until he had a stroke a few years ago. Thankfully, I guess, his end was much quicker and less painful than Gran’s. It was awful at the time to have him healthy one moment and then gone in a matter of hours, but this right now is pure torture, and I’m not the one lying on the hospital bed with meds constantly being pumped into my body.
“Turn the frown upside down, Tabby Cat. I’m fine. I want to remember you smiling, not like your world’s about to come crashing down.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I just—” a sob breaks from my throat. “I don’t know how I’m going to live without you.” Dramatic? Yeah. But Gran has been my go-to person my whole life. When my parents get on my last nerve, which is often, she’s the one who talks me down, makes me see things differently. She’s also the only one who’s encouraged me to live the life I want, not the one I’m constantly being pushed into.