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Prologue

Nikolai

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New York, 7 Years Ago

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"Kill him."

Matteo fucking Gianni, my father, didn't believe in wasting words, and I didn't believe in saying them either. He slid the manila folder across like it held nothing more interesting than the lunch menu at his favorite restaurant.

Dino Donatello. Mid-40s. Ran weapons and girls out of Staten Island, made deals with anyone who waved a dollar in his face, and skimmed more than his share off our shipments. He'd successfully worked his way into my father's bad books, and now he'd have to be burned with those books.

It was a simple job. Walk in, handle it, walk out. A routine so familiar it barely registered as work anymore, more like muscle memory than murder.

"Don't think," my father added, not even looking at me as he poured himself a glass of scotch. "Just get it done."

I'd learned not to argue with him by the time I turned 15. At 22, I wasn't stupid enough to start now. So I nodded, took the file, and headed out without another word.

The Donatello house was a two-story dump at the edge of a rundown neighborhood. In places like this, screaming didn't raise eyebrows and police sirens were just background noise, which made tonight perfect. I parked a block away and walked the rest of the distance. Tonight, I was slipping into this guy's life to wreck it like I'd done to others a thousand times before.

I heard the commotion before I even reached the house.

"You can't do this, please!" The sound of a palm cracking against skin cut off that whimpering voice, replaced by a shrill cry. The muffled thud of something heavy hitting a wall, followed by the sharp sound of a girl's voice desperately trying to reason with whoever was onto her.

I paused at the back door, hand resting easy on my gun. There wasn't supposed to be anyone else here tonight. Dino Donatello was supposed to be alone, drunk, and oblivious, a quick, easy job. But judging by the shouting coming from the kitchen, someone had decided to complicate things.

"How dare you tell me when I can have you?" Dino's voice, slurred and venomous, echoed through the small house. "You're nothing! Just like your mother was nothing!"

I leaned against the wall just outside the kitchen, peering through the doorway. Dino was towering over a girl, dark-haired, young and scared, who looked like she was one shove away from breaking.

"Please, don't talk about her!" She whimpered regardless.

Her face was streaked with tears, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. Her hands were up, palms out, like she could ward him off with sheer desperation.

"You ungrateful brat!" Dino snarled, slamming his hand down on the rickety kitchen table. It cracked under the force, which made the girl flinch. "You think you're too good for me now? You're nothing without me. You'd be dead in the gutter without me!"

She wiped her face with the back of her hand, her breath hitched as she tried to speak. "I'm not like her. I won't be like her."

He lunged, grabbed her by the throat, and slammed her into the fridge. The old appliance groaned under the force, magnets and a faded photo falling to the floor.

"Ah, she thinks she has a choice!" Dino roared, spittle flying as his hand squeezed her neck. "You'll do whatever the fuck I tell you to do. I own you!"

I pulled out my phone and hit record, thumb steady, the screen glow the only clean thing in that filthy kitchen.

Family drama, episode one.

She clawed at his hand, her eyes wide and watering as he tightened his grip. "You're… choking me," she gasped.

"I can make you obey," Dino hissed. He pulled her away from the fridge and threw her onto the floor like she weighed nothing. She hit the ground hard, a pained cry escaping her lips.

Dino stalked over to her, kicking her in the ribs. "Get up," he sneered, delivering another kick. "Get up, you little bitch."

The sound of his boot meeting her side so hard she curled in on herself, shielding her head with her arms, but he didn't stop. Blood smeared the floor beneath her, dark and shiny in the fluorescent light.

Behind her, a small boy peeked out from behind a chair. Wide eyes, trembling lips, clutching a stuffed bear so tight its seams were splitting. He was maybe five or six, and every time Dino's boot connected with the girl, the kid flinched.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." I muttered under my breath, zooming in on the kid with my phone. "Who brings a kid to a beating?"

The girl must've noticed the kid because she twisted her body to shield him as best as she could. "Please, Dino," she rasped, blood dripping from her mouth. "Not in front of him. He's just a kid."

Dino grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back so hard she cried out. "Shut up!" He wrenched his belt free and wrapped it around his fist.

That's when the kid made a sound, a little whimper, barely audible, but it stopped Dino in his tracks. He turned, his bloodshot eyes narrowing.

"Get the fuck out of here," he barked at the boy.

The kid didn't move.

"I said go!" Dino roared, taking a step toward him.

The girl scrambled to her knees, throwing herself between them. "No! Please, Dino, leave him alone!"

This is better than cable.

I was already pissed and so disgusted, but I kept recording. Dino turned his rage back on the girl, punching her across the face so hard she crumpled. Blood sprayed the wall behind her, and she hit the floor with a dull thud.

"Get up," he growled, nudging her with his foot. "I'm not done with you."

She didn't move.

The kid let out a sob, and Dino rounded on him again.

Shit. Time to give this fucker a free pass to hell.

But just as I was about to do that, the girl, who I feared was dead a few minutes ago, made a swift move. It would've been funny if it wasn't so pathetic. The kid had no chance. Dino was twice her size, and drunk or not, he had the advantage.

I should've ended it right there. One clean shot, over before it started. Instead, I stayed put, lowering my gun slightly, some ugly curiosity rooting my boots to the floor. Watching.

Somehow, I found it… entertaining.

She grabbed the first thing within reach, a cast-iron skillet, and swung it at his head. The impact sent him stumbling back, swearing and clutching his temple.

"Not bad," I murmured, holding my phone for a better view.

The girl pressed her advantage and crashed out, she screamed at him, calling him every name under the sun. Dino shook his head, dazed, and then lunged at her again. This time, he grabbed her by the arm and shoved her into the counter.

"You little bitch!" he snarled, his face inches from hers.

That's when she saw the knife. It was lying on the counter, gleaming under the flickering fluorescent light. Her hand darted out, and before Dino could react, she stabbed him.

The first stab hit his shoulder. He roared in pain, releasing her.

The second plunged into his stomach.

By the third, Dino was on his knees, clutching the handle still embedded in his chest, choking on his own blood.

The girl staggered back, her hands trembling. The knife slipped from her fingers and clattered to the ground. She stared at her bloodied hands, then at Dino, and then at nothing, then she was staring at the door where the kid had been standing earlier.

She shook her head repeatedly and started mumbling. "No, no, no…"

I clicked my tongue. "Beginner's guilt," I thought, smirking behind my mask. "You'll get over it."

She turned suddenly and bolted upstairs, her bare feet pounding against the wooden steps.

This was my cue. I stepped into the kitchen, gun drawn. Dino was alive. Barely. His blood was almost drained, his breathing labored, but he wasn't dead. My father wouldn't be too happy about that.

When his eyes met mine, they widened. "Gianni… please…" he gasped.

I crouched beside him, unhurried, inspecting his wounds like I was a chef checking the doneness of a steak. "Oof, that's bad," I said, pointing at the knife sticking out of his chest. "You really should've gone to a doctor for that."

Dino gurgled something incoherent.

I leaned over him. "So aside from being a thief, you're also an abuser." I shook my head in disgust, "You're lucky she got creative, though. If it were me, I'd have just shot you."

He made a choking sound, and I straightened, pulling out my knife for effect. "I'll be back in five minutes. If you're still breathing by then, I'll consider it a personal insult."

I turned my attention to the stairs. The girl had run up there. Part of me wanted to leave it alone, but my father's order was simple.

Don't think. Just get it done.

That didn't mean leaving loose ends.

Holstering my gun, I stepped lightly, avoiding the blood trail as I followed her path.

She was in a small bedroom at the end of the hall, barely more than a mattress and a cracked window, crouched protectively in front of the kid who clung to her, burying his face in her side. They were both crying, the kind of crying that didn't care who heard it anymore.

When she heard my footsteps, her arms spread even wider to shield the boy. Her eyes locked on the gun in my hand, and her face crumpled.

"Please," she whispered in a broken voice. "Don't hurt him."

I raised a brow even if she could not see it, she added hastily. "I didn't mean to kill him, please!"

She wasn't begging for herself. She was begging for the kid.

I didn't respond. I stepped closer, keeping the gun steady on her forehead. Her head was bowed, so her jet black hair made it impossible to see her face properly. I reached out and grabbed the cheap necklace dangling around her neck.

She flinched, raising her hands to shield her face.

"It's all I have left of her," she said in a trembling voice.

I yanked the necklace free, ignoring her words, and tucked it into my pocket. She didn't move, didn't fight, just stood there shaking as the kid whimpered behind her.

I stepped back, then lowered my gun slightly. My eyes flicked between her and the little boy.

For a moment, I considered finishing it. The job was already messy, and leaving witnesses wasn't exactly my style. But the kid… and something about the way she fought that idiot downstairs. This could be the only chance to freedom she'd be getting in her pathetic life.

If the guilt of killing a man doesn't kill her later on, I'll come back and do it if she ever becomes a problem.

I turned without a word, and headed back to the kitchen.

By the time I got there, Dino was gone.

"Shit," I muttered, scanning the blood trail that led out the back door.

I stepped outside, following the trail into the narrow alley behind the house. The bastard was still alive, and he was bleeding out somewhere in the darkness.

"Fucking bastard," I muttered, pulling out my phone to check the recording.

At least I had proof. He wouldn't make it far in his condition, and even if he did, I could track him down and finish the job.

Tucking my phone away, I adjusted my gloves and started back where I'd come when I heard a soft sound.

"Take us with you."

I stopped, turned and frowned. "Uh?"

"He'll come back and kill us," she said quietly. "Please take us with you."