Fated To The Mafia

I don’t steal from the rich. I deliver to them and leave before they remember I was breathing the same air.The elevator to the penthouse doesn’t ding. It sighs…quiet and expensive. I step out with a slim white box tucked under my jacket and three good lies under my tongue just in case I have to explain myself.It should be an easy job. In and out. No cameras in the hall, just a glass console table and a bowl of orchids that look like they cost more than my rent. The door is already cracked, like they’re expecting me or like they don’t care who sees.“Drop it and go,” I whisper, because talking keeps my hands steady. “You are a shadow, Salomé. Shadows don’t get shot.”I slide through the slit of the door.There’s fucking marble everywhere. Gold mirrors that seem as tall as a church, a view of the city like a glittering photo. It smells like citrus, cedar, and something else that I can’t put my finger on.I head towards the bar to leave the package and vanish but a sound from behind t

A sound begins under my feet, it felt like pressure at first, then a noise that seemed to invade every part of my body, not just my ears, my nerves, my heart, my bones.A howl climbs through the floors of this place, a sound that is raw and wrecked and full of grief. It threads under my ribs so intensely that its almost painful, like a second heartbeat that was not mine and now suddenly is.Pain lashes through me sharp enough that for a moment I swear it is my skin being split, my bones straining, my body dragged against chains.No. Not mine. It cannot be mine.But the echo will not let go. It rips through me anyway, and the shameful part is how my body reacts…how it arches against the pull, how my throat wants to open in a sound that is not my own.Heat tears across my chest and I gasp before I can swallow it back. Cassian tilts his head and he notes it without comment.“Whatever that is, it’s not mine,” I grit out, even as my chest aches like it is.Cassian tilts his head, studying

The cut in my wrist burns hotter as something under my skin yanks tight, like a leash I didn’t agree to wear.Cassian stiffens beside me, and for the first time, his perfect control slips half an inch as his shoulder begins jerking, his jaw flexing like he has just swallowed a blade. Across the room, the wolf wrenches against the chain, turning his pain into rage instead of collapsing.And me? Well, whatever is happening to them happens to me, too.Every snap of their bones echoes down my own, every raw flare of Cassian’s pain rippling beneath my skin. It was almost as if my body just volunteered as a free fucking conduit.The wolf surges hard enough that the pillar groans, and although the chain holds, the collar is practically screaming in protest. One cuff tears loose with a shriek of silver, and suddenly he’s half-free, mobile enough to kill anyone stupid enough to get close enough, and determined enough to make this the wrong kind of history lesson.He lunges forward.Claws rake

The bond slams sideways into me, and again my wrist sears. Rhett roars in fury, and Matteo jerks like a live wire just ran through him.I feel him. His fury. His disgust. His fight against it. It crawls under my skin as raw as Rhett’s rage and as sharp as Cassian’s control.“Congratulations,” Cassian says smoothly, eyes flicking between us. “Now you’re all invested.” My body’s splitting three ways, and I can't do anything about it.“Stop,” I grit out, but nothing stops.Rhett yanks the chain as his rage only grows at the prospect of more men to compete with. The collar flashes white as he drags a breath in and spits out a word.“Mate.”It hits me hard. My pulse stutters and heat spikes through me. My body tips toward Rhett without my permission. I catch myself on the table, nails digging uselessly into the steel as I try to ground myself.Matteo feels it too. I can see it as the bond yanks through him, and his jaw locks like he’s choking on a snarl. “Do you feel that? She feels it.

The circle still glows when the first shot cracks through the air. The stone walls spit dust, and the guttering candles explode in wax bursts across the floor. A bullet punches into the wall near Cassian’s head, and the stillness that had existed for only a few moments was shattered instantly. The next volley follows, harder, closer, shredding the doorframe like paper. “Positions,” Cassian barks out the order, his voice is even, clipped. His men answer immediately and spring into action. Their pistols lift as their shoulders slam into the closest thing that they can use as cover, and the room fills with the sound of return fire, sharp and clean. The air stinks of cordite already, so much so that my throat practically burns with it. Another bullet slams into the pillar near me and chips of stone spray across my cheek. Then Rhett moves without warning. The chain whines and his collar screams, his whole body bowing against it as he senses the danger and fights to free himself so th