THE KILLER THAT CLAIMED (A dark, mafia romance)
I was sold and married off to a monster.
And on my wedding night... he tried to rape me.
But before he could, gunfire tore through the walls, blood spilled and screams filled the air.
And just like that... my husband was dead.
I thought it was over.
I was wrong. Because the men who killed him didn't save me.
They took and dragged me into a world darker than anything I had ever known and straight into the hands of a man far more dangerous.
Now I belong to him.....Bane Valak.
And in his world, there are only two choices, Obey... or Die.
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Chapter 13
The girl was shaking so hard I could feel the tremors vibrating through my own bones.
I kept my arm hooked firmly through hers, guiding her toward her room.
Poor thing was so fragile she reminded me of a fine porcelain doll ready to shatter.
"Breathe, Amaya. Just breathe. You're inside now. The walls are thick, and the locks are solid," I said, my voice pitched in that soothing tone I used when I needed to disarm someone.
"He was going to hurt me," Amaya whispered.
Her eyes were wide, the pupils blown out with terror.
"I know. I know." I led her to her room, taking both of her cold, clammy hands in mine.
"Look at me. Look at my eyes, Amaya."
She lifted her gaze, her lower lip trembling.
"You are a Valak guest. In this house, that makes you sacred. Do you understand? That man was an error. And I promise you, on my life, it will never happen again"
"Okay" she said quietly.
I signaled to the two maids hovering near the door.
They moved instantly, like shadows responding to a candle.
"Maria! Sofia!" I barked. The girls jumped.
"Take Care of Miss Amaya while I'm away. Prepare a lavender bath and stay with her. If she so much as whimpers, I want to know about it. If anyone tries to enter that room without my express permission, you scream loud enough to wake the dead. Clear?"
"Yes, Signora Regina," they chirped in unison.
I stood up and headed for the exit.
I looked back at Amaya and gave her a sharp, encouraging nod and then I left.
The second she was out of sight, the smiling mask I wore disintegrated.
I turned toward the hallway leading to the west wing.
My blood was boiling and rightfully so.
I didn't knock when I reached Bane's study.
I threw the heavy mahogany doors open with such force they slammed against the interior stoppers with a crack that echoed like a gunshot.
Bane was sitting behind that monstrous desk of his, a cigar in one hand and a fountain pen in the other.
Nathaniel was standing by the window, his arms crossed, unlike Bane, he looked surprised.
"Get out, Nathaniel," I snapped, not even looking at the young man.
Nathaniel stiffened.
"I'm in the middle of a briefing, Aunt."
"I don't give a damn if you're in the middle of a coronation," I hissed, turning my glare on him.
"Out. Now. I need to yell at your uncle"
Nathaniel looked to Bane who only gave a curt, infinitesimal nod.
Nathaniel shrugged, said nothing more, stood up and excused us.
As soon as the door clicked shut, I marched straight to the desk, slamming my palms down on the polished wood.
"Is there a reason you're trying to break the furniture, Regina?" Bane asked with a bored tone.
"You're men," I spat, the words tasting like acid. "You're indisciplined, absolute gutter trash imbeciles!!! That's the reason!!"
Bane set his pen down slowly. He finally looked up, his dark eyes narrowing.
"Explain what you're on about. Quickly please, I have a shipment in Livorno that needs my attention."
"Oh, to hell with your shipment! One of your guards just spent his afternoon harassing Amaya near the isolation block."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop twenty degrees.
Bane's hand, which had been reaching for a document, froze mid-air.
"Which Amaya?" he asked.
The question was a razor blade.
"YOUR Amaya!" I said, "That bastard grabbed her, pulled a knife on her and said she was spoil of war and spoils should be shared"
"Spoils of war should be shared....."
Bane repeated the phrase under his breath and went unnervingly still.
It was the kind of stillness you see in a predator right before the killing blow.
"Who was it? The guard?"
Bane asked.
"I don't have a name yet. All I know is he's some stupid asshat with a pocketknife. He was stationed near the gray bunker. Amaya is upstairs right now, shaking so hard she can barely speak. She's terrified, Bane."
I paced the length of the rug, my hands flying as I spoke.
"What the hell are you doing, brother? You bring her here, you tell her she's safe, and then you let your dogs off the leash? Is this how we run things now? Are we letting these men terrorize women in our own gardens?"
Bane stood up.
He was a tall and massive man and right now he looked angry.
He walked around the desk, his presence filling the room until it felt like the walls were closing in.
He stopped inches from me.
I looked him eye to eye.
As a big woman who was 5'11, I too, was an imposing figure myself.
It was a family trait.
"Is she hurt?" he asked.
"Bruises on her shoulder. A few scratches on her neck from where he pulled her hair." I poked a finger into his chest, hard. "If a man touches what belongs to a Valak, what happens, Bane?"
Bane's face was a mask of cold, unadulterated fury.
The veins in his neck were corded, and his eyes were so dark they looked like pits of charcoal.
Bane's voice was a low vibration that I could feel in the floorboards.
"If one of my own thinks he can touch what I have marked as mine... he has forgotten who I am."
I stepped back.
"Remind him then"
Bane walked over to the intercom on the wall.
He pressed the button with enough force to crack the casing.
"Captain," Bane barked.
"Yes, Boss?" the voice crackled back, sounding startled.
"Assemble every guard on the grounds. Every single one of them. In the courtyard right now! If a single man is missing, I'll have your head on a spike next to theirs."
"Right away, sir."
Bane turned back to me.
The rage was still there, but it was being funneled into a singular, lethal purpose.
I smiled and nodded approvingly.
"That's my brother"
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7.8
Isabella Hart thought her Valentine's Day plan was perfect: propose to her boyfriend, celebrate in the Maldives, and finally start the life she'd dreamed of.
Instead, she walked into his office and found him kissing his assistant who was also her friend.
Heartbreak turned to fury and before she could stop herself, she shoved the engagement ring meant for him onto the finger of a stranger with cold gray eyes.
The stranger looked at her, amused, and said, "I do."
Moments later, her ex called that stranger Boss.
Luciano Moretti, the stranger, was no ordinary man. He was the quiet, ruthless king of New York's underworld, the man people whispered about but never dared to name aloud.
What began as a viral mistake became a dangerous entanglement of power, lies, and a love too forbidden to survive the truth.
7.5
On the morning of our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, I found a cream-colored document tucked inside my husband's suit pocket.
It was a twenty-million-dollar asset transfer for his former receptionist, Carmen. But what made my blood run cold was the contingent beneficiary: Leo, my newborn son who the hospital claimed was kidnapped twenty-three years ago.
When I confronted Devonte, he didn't even try to explain. He handed me a fake Cartier watch, canceled all my credit cards, and publicly called me delusional.
The next day, he moved Carmen into our mansion and emptied all our joint accounts into offshore trusts.
"If you don't sign these papers and walk away, I will have you committed," he threatened, his mother nodding in agreement.
They had orchestrated the kidnapping of my baby, hiding him with the mistress while I spent half my life sedated and screaming in grief. Now, to keep his secret, Devonte was going to lock me in a psychiatric ward and bury me in debt.
I didn't understand how the man I loved could be such a monster. Why did he steal my child? What else was hidden in that confidential adoption file?
Pushed to the absolute brink, I refused to be his victim.
When his goons came to my temporary apartment to drag me away, I turned to the rugged union electrician who had just fixed my lights.
"If you need a husband to keep you out of a psych ward, I'll marry you," he said, offering himself as my legal shield.
I took his hand. It was time to tear my husband's perfect life apart.
7.1
"Don't tease me again or else you really want it. There are no safe words in my bed."
He is rumored to know a thousand ways to disarm and pleasure a woman, and I am Olivia, the nymphomaniac.
In a quest for revenge against my childhood bullies, I got locked into an unhappy marriage, with an untamed brother-in-law. Colt Fletcher, the morally-grey, rebel biker is ever excited by danger and prefers life on the edge. And from the moment he laid eyes on me, I became his forbidden want.
I should know better, to steer clear of deadly desires like these but when fate forces us to live under the same roof, share the same boardroom, and every accidental touch burns, my resolve begins to collapse.
But scandals don't stay buried, and my husband is the devil. The price of this betrayal is death. I must choose between my husband who owns my name, and his brother who owns my body.
7.1
For ten years, I disguised myself as my dead twin brother, fighting bloody mob wars to build the Falcone family's bootlegging empire.
When the war ended, I thought I could finally take off the men's suits and be Anya again.
Instead, my parents stole my victories to secure my father's power, demanding I disappear forever.
When I tried to expose the truth, my family dragged me into a soundproof basement.
My younger brother forced a metal funnel past my teeth and poured corrosive chemicals down my throat, dissolving my vocal cords into a blistered ruin.
They chained me to a freezing pier, whipped me bloody, and let the men I used to lead spit on me as a jealous traitor.
Then, under the guise of a family reconciliation dinner, my mother drugged my wine.
While I lay paralyzed but fully conscious on my bed, my brother took heavy iron pliers and crushed all ten of my fingers, bone by bone.
They wanted to ensure I could never hold a gun or write the truth again.
I had slaughtered for them, bled for them, and craved only their love.
In return, they pulverized my body and painted me as a hysterical madwoman just to keep the crown I had won for them.
The foolish girl who wanted a family died in that agonizing pain, leaving behind only a ghost.
Dragging my mangled, bandaged body into the rival Romano family's charity gala, I collapsed at the feet of their ruthless matriarch.
"I invoke the sacred code," I rasped through my chemically burned throat. "I demand a Vendetta."
7.9
"You are wet, Red. I can smell your juices already." He said. I wanted to deny it but I knew he was right. The sides of my thigh were already clammy. How could he tell from afar?
"No, I need to sleep. I told you I have a presentation tomorrow, right? I'm tired, I want to rest a bit." I replied.
"You'll do that when I get a release. I'll make sure to be fast about it," he replied. I stood rooted on the same spot without moving. I knew he was just being civil with me. It was only a matter of time before he dragged me to his side.
"Unless maybe you want me to call the others?" He asked but I could tell he was threatening me. Calling the others would end in me not getting any rest at all.
"No, please," I replied walking obediently to his side.
*****
Three men, one naive woman.
Ziyana never knew her life would turn in the most dramatic way. She enjoyed the life of a princess until life happened.
From being hated by her blood to suddenly being sold to a spoilt Mafia Lord. She thought she could navigate through it but there were two more brothers!
Ruthless. Domineering. Voracious.
The Niccolo Brothers' lives were full of danger and envy but these men never wanted her out of their sight.
Would Ziyana be able to cope in the midst or run for her life before she get used to them?
8.1
Trigger Warning: This book is extremely dark, containing themes of obsession, strong sexual content, abuse, and psychological manipulation. Read at your own risk.
"I'll delete the pictures depending on how obedient you are. You have to do everything I say. If I want you to become a dog, you get on your knees and bark. Do we have a deal?"
Pierce leans down to Malakai's height, his lips brushing the shell of his ear, close enough to taste his fear.
"You don't want her to know what a dirty little creep you are, do you?"
Malakai Kreston is the preacher's perfect son. Quiet. Obedient. The kind of boy no one looks at twice.
But Malakai has a filthy secret. And he'll do anything-anything-to keep it buried.
Enter Pierce Masterson.
Wealthy. Attractive. Pierce doesn't just want Malakai's secret. He wants Malakai. All of him. His fear. His obedience. His body. His mind.
Pierce wants to own it, and lock it away where no one else can ever touch it.
Kai has always been the hunter-watching from the shadows, obsessing in silence, taking what doesn't belong to him.
Now someone is hunting him.
And Pierce doesn't play fair. He plays dirty.
How far can you run when the devil already knows every dark corner of your soul?
In a game of predator and prey, the lines blur. The roles reverse. And the most dangerous thing isn't the boy who holds the blackmail-
It's the moment Malakai stops wanting to be free.