Prologue

BASILIO

   Cruelty ran in my veins.

It was part of me. Just like blood, oxygen, and hustling. It was who we DiLustros were. People shit their pants when they see me.

Yet, the girl with the golden curls didn’t even bat an eyelash. She literally fell off a balcony and straight into my arms, then turned my life upside down. Well, more like, she tilted my world upright, and for the first time in my life, it wasn’t all about blood and money.

It was about a woman. My woman.

I had never felt so goddamn happy. So right, and it was thanks to her. Wynter Star. And just like her name, she had become my star. My guiding light in the darkness of my underworld.

The last few weeks had been hands down the best days of my entire life. And now that she pledged her love and allegiance to me, I knew our future would be happy. Together.

And it was all thanks to her. My angel with golden curls and big eyes that shone like beautiful, precious stones when she looked at me. Only at me.

I’d seen and done enough fucked up shit and ended more than a few miserable lives to know that when you found this, you had to snatch it up and keep it. My one shot at happiness.

She was my once in a lifetime chance at keeping humanity in my soul. Unlike everyone else in my world, she was untainted and gentle, giving love without wanting anything tangible in return. Just me.

She held power over me, without trying. I wouldn’t fuck around and chance losing her.

To anyone - cousins, family, rival mafia, or anyone else stupid enough to fuck around and try something.

I’d put a stop to the thieving schemes she had going with her friends. Fuck it. If those four had some kleptomania issues, I’d set up stores they could rob that were mine. I had plenty of money to go around for the next twenty lifetimes.

I pushed my hand into my pocket, the little velvet box burning through my three-piece suit. I patted it for the hundredth time since I’d picked it up.

I couldn’t wait to slide a promise onto her finger. As long as she wore my ring, that was all that mattered to me.

My lips curved into a smile thinking of how I left her. Naked. The softest smile I had ever seen on a woman’s face. Her skin flushed from what we had just done. Her eyes shining like the most beautiful emeralds. And her hair. Jesus, her golden curls sprawled all over my black satin sheets. She was like an angel captured in the devil's bed.

A willing angel in the devil's bed. Mine.

I’d never give her up. I didn’t give a fuck who I’d have to ruin or kill. She was my perfection. The best part was that she’d let me because she wanted to be mine.

My enemies called me the Villainous Kingpin. The devil in a three-piece-suit. She just called me hers. She loved me, just the way I was. And God knew I loved her just the way she was. My most beautiful perfection.

I turned the corner to my street and my steps picked up.

My father’s car was here.

What the fuck was he doing here?

Dread climbed up my spine and my sixth sense set off warning bells. He never came to visit. Fucking ever. Every cell of my being went on alert, I unbuttoned my jacket to ensure I had easy access to my gun.

Then I shoved the front door open. Blood.

Bloody handprints decorated the walls of the foyer. Small hands. The taste of fear was new. Something I hadn’t felt in so long, I forgot its bitter taste in the back of my throat. Like metal and gunpowder that was sure to take something you loved, more than anything in this world, away from you.

It took hold of my throat and choked the living daylights out of me. My vision blurred and a red haze descended over everything.

Like a fucked up, bloody film.

I pulled out my gun, and with each step I took, my foot crunched on broken glass, shattering the ominous silence. The kind that brought news that changed you forever.

Just not her, I prayed for the first time in my life. Take it all, but leave me her.

I heard men’s hushed voices, grunts, and I screwed the silencer onto the muzzle never pausing my steps. Each second counted right now. I rounded the corner to my living room.

Then I saw him.

My father, bleeding like a pig in the middle of my living room. Two bullets in his right leg. A piece of glass jabbed in his neck, and the right side of his face sliced. Angelo, his hacker and right hand man, tended to him, wrapping up his wounds.

Both of their eyes lifted my way. One wary set and one furious. The latter one belonged to my father.

“Where is she?” I asked, my voice vibrating with rage as I glanced around. Dread was like a chain around my heart, squeezing harder and harder. “Where the fuck is she?” I bellowed, my voice bouncing off the walls and returning my own echo in answer.

I had to keep my cool; otherwise, the rage would blind me and I’d stop thinking rationally. But the adrenaline rushing through my veins refused to heed the warning. It only cared about finding my woman.

The living room was in complete disarray. The hardwood floors were stained with blood and broken glass and overturned furniture was scattered across the room.

“Russians,” my father spat out, blood spurting out of the corner of his mouth. “They took her.”

“Names,” I growled, kneeling to lock gazes with my father.

I had to swallow down the burning rage until I had the facts so I could get my girl. I wanted to kill him for allowing them to take her. For not laying his life down to protect her.

Fury rushed through me, blood drummed in my ears. My control was slipping.

“Didn’t recognize them.” Something about the tone of his voice warned me he was lying. “She tried to run,” my father said. “Fucking girl tried to run and you know how they love the chase.”

The red haze in my vision darkened to crimson, picturing how terrified she must have been. The images of how fear would have flooded her big eyes kept playing in my mind. I swear to God, if those fuckers laid a single finger on her, I’d burn down their homes, their cities, and kill their families.

“Where were you two?” I growled. “Did you lead them here? How come they didn’t kill you?”

Bratva didn’t leave survivors. Just as none of us kingpins left witnesses behind. For a reason.

“We caught them on their way out,” my father retorted, spitting blood on my floor. A tooth bounced off the hardwood. “Fuckers,” he cussed.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and stood up.

They better not have touched my girl. Not a single goddamn piece of her golden hair. And if someone brought her any harm, I’d rain hell down on them and their motherfucking world.

I stormed out of the living room, the gun still in my hand as I rushed up the stairs to my bedroom. As I climbed the stairs three at a time, my fingers dug into the mahogany rail, the marble stairs echoing loud under my feet, and I couldn’t help but recall her teasing me about it. She called it a fancy mobster home.

It was supposed to be the safest goddamn home in this country. I promised her she’d be safe here.

The bedroom door ajar, I pushed through it, but it was as if nothing happened up here. I could still smell her faint flowery scent. The sheets were tousled, just as they were when I left her. Except she wasn’t in between them.

Her duffle bag sat on the windowsill where she loved to sit.

They’d taken her.

My star. My light. My life.

Anyone but her, I prayed. Bring her back.

And for the first time in my life, I dropped to my knees.

Unless I got her back, I’d be the world’s most ruthless villain.

There was no life without her.