I'm not yours, Vito.

If you think I’m fucked up in the head, then you haven’t met Sebastian King. The first time I officially met Sebastian King, he had just smashed someone’s skull open like a ripe watermelon against the concrete floor of an abandoned warehouse. Blood sprayed in a fine mist. Bone cracked with a wet, final sound. And in that exact second—while everyone else flinched or looked away—I knew, without a single second of doubt, that he was meant to be mine. He just hasn’t realized it yet. Now there are three problems. First, I cannot be gay. Being the third and most unloved child is already bad enough. Being gay is basically loading the gun and handing it to my father. He would put a bullet between my eyes without blinking and then have someone clean up the mess before dinner. Second, Sebastian hates my guts. We are supposed to be rivals—two families circling the same bloody territory, two names that make lesser men sweat. But isn’t hate sex the purest kind? All that violence with nowhere

Vito’s POV Now isn’t this just interesting? Our one and only biggest rival, Sebastian King, was right here in my territory. Not just in my fucking territory—I had dry-humped him into the dirt and made him come so hard he was still dazed under me. “Sebastian?” I called, half-laughing, wanting to make sure it was actually him and not some evil twin. Not that he needed one. He was already evil enough on his own. For a second he just lay there, chest heaving, the aftershocks still running through him. Then the fog cleared. His eyes sharpened. Rage flooded in. “Get the fuck off me, you son of a bitch!” Before I could answer, his fist slammed into the side of my face. The impact cracked through my skull and knocked me sideways into the leaves. I tasted blood almost instantly. Sebastian shoved himself up, still shaking, still wrecked from what I’d just done to him, but pure venom in every line of his body. I sat there on the dirt with a smirk on my lips. “We don’t see this