Page 3 of Brutal Crown

He flinches like I hit him, and for a second, I almost feel bad.

Almost.

But when he glances over his shoulder again, I notice another emotion in his eyes. Fear. It’s been there since he showed up. I pay more attention to his appearance, noticing the deep sweat stains under his arms and the way he’s trembling. Before I can comment on it, a thunderous blast rips through the street outside.

I let out a scream as our building shudders. The old windows crack, and the ground trembles beneath me. My father rushes to grab my arm. He drags me toward the kitchen while my heartbeat races.

“What’s going on, Dad?”

Before we can take the next step, another boom erupts, this time close to the side of the apartment. A loud crash splits the air around us as smoke pours in through the broken windows. My father’s strong grip slips away from my arm, and I hear a low groan beneath the loud rumble. My eyes sting, and my throat burns as a thick chemical smell fills the house.

“Dad?” I say in a panicked tone.

I clear the smoke around me, and that’s when I see my father pinned beneath the bookshelf that has now toppled to the ground.

“Dad!” I scream.

I scramble toward him and push against the splintered wood, trying to get him out. He cries out in pain, and I see the spot where a large piece of wood pins his twisted leg to the ground.

A deep grunt leaves my mouth as I push the shelf from underneath with all my strength to give him enough space to slip his leg out. The wood feels almost unmoving, but I continue to push until it creaks a little, and my father is able to pull his leg out with another groan.

A relieved sigh leaves me as I drop the shelf and kneel beside him.

“Are you okay? What just happened?”

Then the front door slams open.

I spin around immediately, my heart pounding so hard, I feel dizzy.

A man steps inside.

Silver hair, cold black eyes, and a tailored black suit. Dante Romano. It’s my first time seeing him in person, and I’m on the verge of peeing myself. He’s even scarier than everything I’ve heard.

My heartbeat races as masked men from behind him pour into our small, now-damaged living room. Their guns are drawn, all terrifying with tattoos snaking up their necks and arms.

My father makes another groaning sound from where he’s sprawled on the floor. I see him struggling to get up.

“Did you think you could set foot in my city and I wouldn’t find out?” Dante asks in a smooth voice.

I’m too frozen, too confused, and too scared to even utter a word. I watch the scene with terror crawling down my spine.

My father tries to speak, but one of Dante’s men starts kicking him in the side of his stomach.

“Please stop!” I cry out.

All eyes turn to look at me, but the only person I can look at is the terrifying man standing before me.

He scoffs bitterly, then glances at my father again.

“You tried to poke your nose where it didn’t belong, then you tried blackmailing me with what you found,” he chuckles to himself. “I don’t know if I should be offended or amused by your stupidity.”

My father, still groaning in pain, doesn’t say a word to him.

Dante’s voice lowers into a dangerous drawl. “You should have thought about the people you care about before deciding to mess with me.”

He snaps his fingers, and the next thing I know, two of his men slowly prowl toward me.

“It’s time to pay for what you did, and I’ll be collecting a little incentive for my troubles.”