Ruthless Heir: A Dark Mafia Romance (Ruthless Dynasty Book 1)

The chaos is sudden and violent.

I can’t tell who shoots first, but the sound of gunfire fills up the walk-in closet until I can’t even hear myself think anymore.

Then, just like that, it’s over.

Dead silence.

My first instinct is to look over my body. To check for wounds. But I’m clean. No blood. No pain. Nothing.

That’s when I check to make sure Rozalia is alright too. Our eyes meet. The smoke from her pistol billows across the savage glint in her sharp green eyes.

Before I can speak, the black cat lifts a single finger to her lips.

Be quiet.

The knife in my hand trembles. The row of hanging outfits before us sway softly, a few of them riddled with bullet holes.

It’s eerily silent… until the cursing starts.

“You fucking bitch!” The voice is coarse and phlegmy and full of hatred.

“No fucking way,” Rozalia whispers in response, her sharp eyes going wide with shock.All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

“What’s happening?” I ask, keeping my voice as low as possible.

“Stay behind me, and get ready to run.”

That’s all Rozalia says before blowing out the tip of her smoking pistol. Lowering the weapon again, she points it outwards and carefully starts to stalk forward.

“Shit,” I mumble to myself. My heart is pounding like a jackhammer.

Still, I follow her. Jittery knife pointed outwards.

The swinging clothes are still hot from the bullets that tore through them. It’s hard to say how many shots were fired, but I don’t need to count. No matter the number, it was too many. It’s a miracle we weren’t hit.

“Oh, when Drago learns about this, he’s going to—”

“Shut the fuck up, Krol.” When I join Rozalia on the other side of the closet door, she already has her gun pointed at a man bleeding on the floor by the bed.

The man has a gun of his own pointed right back at her.

But when he sees me, the barrel shifts.

Suddenly, I’m his target.

“You’re coming with me, girl,” the man sneers. His thin white lips curl up, exposing triangle teeth, each shaved down to look like fangs. Evil emanates from him like fog from a swamp.

“I… Roz… What’s happening?”

“Nothing,” she spits. “Start heading towards the door. Slowly. When I say run, you start running. Understand?”

“But where—”

“Do. You. Understand?”

“Yes,” I gulp. My knuckles have turned white around the handle quivering between my fingers.

“Good.”

“Wrong,” the man on the floor hisses. With a grunt, he clicks down on the safety of his gun. But that’s all he’s able to do before Rozalia shoots the weapon from his hand.

“You fucking bitch!” he shouts, grimacing.

“I heard you the first time,” Rozalia snaps back. “Is that all you have to say? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Oh no, I have much more to say, you traitorous fucking cunt. Drago will have your head for this—or maybe he’ll finally let me have my way with you…”

Rozalia fires another warning shot just past the man’s ear. But this time, he doesn’t flinch. Not even as shards of the shredded wall fall over his bald, tattooed-crossed head.

“Start walking, Bianca,” Rozalia orders again.

I do as I’m told, but my knees are like jelly.

Was that a shiver of fear I just heard in Rozalia’s voice?

What the hell could scare a woman like her?

“You won’t get far, girl,” the human serpent assures me. “We have eyes in every shadow. We—’

“You’re alone, aren’t you?” Rozalia interrupts, the tip of her pistol quivering ever so slightly. Her voice, however, has become steady again.

“It was a mistake I won’t make again,” the man growls back.

“Who says I’m going to let you make any kind of decision ever again?” Rozalia asks. “I should kill you for being here. I should kill you for shooting at me. Hell, I should kill you for calling me a cunt. It’s a miracle you’re still alive, Krol. Count your blessings and answer my fucking questions. What the hell are you doing here?”

“I was ordered to retrieve Gabriel’s special package,” the man snarls. What is that Rozalia keeps calling him? Krol? Is that his name or a title? “The girl needs to be returned to us. That’s what I’m doing here. Now, here’s my big question: what the hell are you doing here? Because it definitely isn’t what Drago ordered of you.”

“I’m not doing what I was ordered to do. I’m doing what’s right.”

“That’s the wrong answer, girl.”

With a guttural grunt, the man pushes himself up onto his ass, revealing the wound in his spleen. I’m so prepared for the shot I’m sure is about to come from Rozalia’s pistol that I pre-emptively flinch.

But nothing happens. The black cat lets the bleeding serpent get into a more comfortable position.

Still, before he can get too comfortable, Rozalia makes her way over to his fallen gun and takes it for herself.

“Bianca, this is Kuba Krol. Krol, this is Bianca,” she says. New weapons in hand, she carefully starts to back away from the man. “You two get a good look at each other, because I have a feeling this is the last time you’ll ever meet. Gabriel isn’t going to like this, Krol. Not one bit. You’ve made a huge fucking mistake.”

“Fuck you,” Krol spits, blood trickling from his lips. “You’re the one who’s made the mistake. We both know Drago isn’t someone you cross. Gabriel is just the prince. I’m not scared of him. And I’m definitely not scared of you, fucking cunt.”

“You should be,” Rozalia warns him, as we both inch closer to the doorway.

“Step out of that door and seal your fate,” Krol threatens. “There’s no going back. Either you come with me, or you suffer the fucking consequences.”

“My choice is already made, asshole. If Drago wants to talk, then I’ll get in touch.”

“If you leave, there won’t be anything to say. You’ll be dead to him. And then I’ll make sure you’re just plain dead.”

“Who said anything about letting you live long enough to keep that promise?”

That makes Krol laugh. At least, I think it’s a laugh. It’s hard to tell with him.

“You don’t have the guts to kill me, Rozalia,” he says, hand pressed against his bleeding wound. “Sure, you might have chosen to protect Gabriel’s feelings over the fate of your family, but you’ll come crawling back when you realize he only cares about the princess.”

Krol’s black eyes slither back onto me as I step out into the hallway. There’s so much hate in his glare.

“You followed me here, didn’t you?” Rozalia realizes, pistol slowly dropping as she joins me in the hallway.

“I’ll never say,” Krol taunts, his thin white lips twisting into a dirty smile.

“If you follow me anywhere ever again, I’ll put a bullet right between your eyes.”

“Not if I get you first.”

There’s no hiding how much Rozalia’s gun is shaking now. It almost looks like she’s about to lose control and drop it.

Before that can happen, though, she holsters it, right along with Krol’s confiscated weapon. “See you in hell, you bastard.”

“Coward! Face me like a fucking—”

That’s the last thing I hear before Rozalia slams the bedroom door shut. Reaching under her shirt, she pulls out a key and shoves it into the handle, twisting until I hear the lock click.

“That won’t hold him for long, but it should give us enough time to get out of here and lose the fucker. The idiot came here alone. He probably thought he could catch me snoozing. Fool. Let’s start moving. Now!”

She doesn’t have to tell me twice. No matter how weak my knees are, or how sore my legs, I force them forward as Rozalia and I rush down the hall.

“Who was that?” I ask, my voice trembling as I begin to realize just how close we just were to death.

“A dangerous man,” Rozalia replies.

We hardly pause when we reach the stairs. Still, Rozalia unholsters her pistol again and points it forward, like she isn’t quite ready to believe that Krol actually came alone.

“Why didn’t you kill him?” I ask, bewildered.

“Because it’s not that easy to kill a man. Especially not a man like that.

“Because he’s family,” I suddenly remember.

You might have chosen to protect Gabriel’s feelings over the fate of your family, but you’ll come crawling back when you realize he only cares about the princess.

That’s what he said.

If that man is part of Rozalia’s family, that means he’s part of Gabriel’s family too. But then what the hell was that all about?

“Fuck no,” Rozalia barks. “He’s not part of my fucking family. Never really was. Never really will be.”

“So then who is he?”

“I’ll tell you later, let’s get out of here first.”

Fortunately for her, my lungs are beginning to burn way harder than my curiosity, and I shut my mouth as we look for a way out of here.

To my surprise, it doesn’t take long to find the front door—if only because it’s been busted open, creating a howling tunnel of wind that screams out like a fucking ghoul.

We follow the wailing, stepping over the discarded door frame and into a humid night.

“What the hell?”

I’m immediately met by a face-smacking view of a sparkling skyline—as well as a strong gust that nearly knocks me off my feet.

Holy shit. We’re on the top of a skyscraper.

“This way!” Rozalia calls out to me. She’s heading towards what looks like a fire escape at the far end of the rooftop.

I follow her for a few steps before stopping to look back at the structure we just burst out of.

What I see doesn’t seem to make any sense.

A modern mansion, baked into the rooftop. It’s walls are a melted mixture of soft grey cement and sleek black glass—they somehow combine to form an almost perfect mirror.

It makes the protruding palace nearly invisible; a reflection of the skyline twinkling at my back.

“Bianca! Here! Now!”

Rozalia’s voice cuts through the wind, seeping into my awestruck trance. But it’s only when I remember who’s still in the invisible palace that I snap back to reality.

“Coming!” I shout.

Stumbling over my own feet, I make my way across the rooftop, joining Rozalia on the fire escape.

“Are you afraid of heights?” she asks.

“… Maybe.”

“Then don’t look down.”

With that, she takes off. The metal floor rattles against her footsteps as she disappears ahead, and I nearly drop the switchblade still gripped between my fingers.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down.

Shutting my eyes, I try and force myself to concentrate.

I just survived a shoot-out at close range. I held death at knifepoint. I escaped my cage.

This is nothing.

Slowly, I can feel my shaking hands start to steady.

Fuck. Maybe I’m not so helpless after all. Even if I was terrified for every second of what just happened, I still managed to hold myself together. To do what needed to be done.

Now, I just need to keep going.

Retracting the blade on Rozalia’s knife, I take a deep breath. Then, I rip my eyes back open and follow the black cat down the shaky, impossibly high fire escape.

Adrenaline pumping through my veins, I can’t help the wave of pride that prickles over my skin.

I can do this.

I’m a survivor.

If only Gabriel were here to witness it.

A little pocket of disappointment appears in my gut as I struggle to catch up to Rozalia.

Gabriel.

I may have escaped my troubles, but the last time I saw him, he was about to walk into a storm of his own.

There’s a chance I might not ever be able to tell him about how I handled myself under pressure. About how I escaped. About how I stabbed his walls and secretly hoped to be punished for it…

“Honey, I know you’ve got shaky legs, but we don’t have all night. Krol could be calling for back up as we speak.”

Despite the hurried pace of her words, Rozalia waits for me at a landing so that I can catch up.

“You should have killed him,” I tell her, newfound courage lifting my voice—but it’s mixed with a confusing anger.

I’m glad to be free, yet disturbingly hurt that my captor isn’t here to see me off.

“Oh, look who thinks she’s all badass now.”

Even in the darkness, I can see the whites of Rozalia’s eyes as she roles them at me.

“I’m serious.”

“If I had held him at gun point and ordered you to cut his throat, do you think you could have done it?” I’m challenged.

“No,” I sheepishly admit.

“Good. It’s nice to know you haven’t completely broken from reality yet. Now, enough small talk. I just texted a friend. There should be a car waiting for us down on the street any minute now. It’s up to us to get there before any of Krol’s backup.”

Rozalia turns and I shut my mouth. Together, we continue our warpath down the black fire escape.

This is starting to feel less like a nightmare and more like an adventure. But I know that feeling won’t last long.

We’re descending back into hell, and I can feel the weight of the switchblade in my hand getting heavier and heavier.

Soon, I may not have a choice. If I want to survive, I might have to kill.

Fuck.

It doesn’t matter that I’ve always wanted to become a woman who could decimate entire armies with the wave of her hand. Rozalia was right. The reality of actually taking another life fills me with dread.

… Until I remember how good the darkness can feel.

It was Gabriel who showed me just how much pleasure can be found in the heat of hell. He forced me to stare down the flames, to watch as he burned away my innocence.

I survived the pain to feel the ecstasy. The fear was part of it. So was the depravity.

Maybe, I’m not so hopeless, after all.

Maybe, all I need is his strong hand on my wrist, leading my blade as I slice the throats of those who threaten me—or maybe I’m just getting lost in the thrill of survival again.

It’s hard to tell.

Still, one thing remains all too clear.

Even as I leave my cage behind, I’m not free. Not from Gabriel. Not yet.

Those hazel-green eyes follow me down the fire escape; they fill me with dread, and a wonderful, fiery darkness. But above all, they make sure I remember that there is no escape. Not without sacrifice. Not without blood. Not without death.

So, who am I going to kill?

Gabriel—or the girl I once was?