Page 1 of King of Obsession (Kings of the Underworld #1)

No one is truly free. I sold my life long ago in exchange for power, thinking it would satiate my hungry soul. I was wrong. I had little choice then, considering I was an orphan in a system with only two ways out: become a nun or a whore. Neither appealed to me.

Walls surround me, trapping me inside, but we all live in cages. Mine just happens to be a gilded fortress. I live in a mansion on a vast estate—a gift for my service to the Council of Twelve.

Out the window, the spring wind blows, bending the trees to her will. Frail blooms scatter into the air before painting a blanket of dead potential on the pavement.

Sighing, I press my palm to the glass, wondering what else is out there if I could break free from this life. It’s the only one I know. When I was thirteen, Augustus Ducati came to visit the monastery and offered me a third option: to become an assassin.

Augustus is the unofficial ruler of the Council and the only person in the world I take orders from.

He’s neither family nor just my boss. Our relationship has always had depth but lacked substance.

By accepting his offer, I traded one prison for another, albeit a much more luxurious one.

Surrounded by people with power and the means to buy countries, I came to accept that freedom is an illusion.

From my window, I watch the guards, accompanied by attack dogs, patrolling the property. I find it ironic because I’m the one they’d need protection from.

I earned my nickname—Silver Death— after completing my first assignment at sixteen. At twenty-three, my name is whispered in the underworld with reverent fear. Everyone knows that once a name is on my list, they’re dead.

I hoped that by earning money, gaining influence, and eliciting dread, I would gain access to the only information I wanted.

Where do I come from? Who were my parents?

Humans are fickle, and their loyalty always comes with a price. I don’t care about why they abandoned me. I want to find out about my roots and better understand who I am. Is this detachment from killing hereditary? Is this hunger for power innate, or is it simply a result of my upbringing?

I hate days when I am not on the hunt, when I am not busy planning hits. But I could spill all the blood in the world, and I would still be restless.

Outside, the water lashes at the edge of the pool as if wanting to escape, brewing a small storm. I have an entire mansion at my disposal with people I handpicked to take care of my needs, but each one of them is a reminder of my duty. Of my life not being mine.

I signed my life over for a taste of power I thought would give me freedom. Instead, it captured me forever in an hourglass—each grain of sand slowly trickling, reminding me I am just a sharp tool in the Council’s arsenal.

Heavy footsteps rouse me from my trance, and I quickly don one of my many masks, each sharing a common trait: a cool, poker face. Some perceive it as arrogance, but I call it self-confidence—a reminder of who I am: Luciana Rossi, assassin.

Turning around, I see Adamo Santino approaching.

He strides into my office with the swagger of an heir eager to prove himself.

It’s no secret that the Santino’s position on the Council is due to the Ferraras offering them their seat after moving to the States to start anew.

I believe the Ferraras got the better end of the deal.

No one leaves the Council, but they did.

It would be utterly fascinating if I cared.

But all I care about is finding my roots.

“Luciana,” he says, strutting toward me in a tailored three-piece suit as if he owns the place.

“Adamo, did you wake up with a death wish today?” I ask, arching a brow.

No one comes to my house without an invitation. While I may be on a leash, even the Council is wary of me. I am resourceful in my killings and easily get trigger-happy. But it’s more bark than bite. I can’t kill anyone on the Council, which is a pity.

He places a hand on his heart in faux hurt, smirking. How I’d like to wipe that conceited look off his face permanently.

“But then you would lose the chance to find out what I know.”

I scoff, doubting he possesses any information that could pique my interest. Ignoring him, I turn my attention back to the two birds chasing each other before taking a plunge into the fountain for a bath.

“I am fucking talking to you.” He grinds his teeth so hard his jaw might break.

“Get out before I lose my patience with you.” I don’t raise my voice—it’s steady and controlled as always. No one could ever rattle the walls I’ve erected around me.

“I could have made you into a woman who would be respected worldwide.”

Over my shoulder, I look dead into his eyes, and he squirms under the weight of my stare.

“I am a well-respected woman. I don’t need a man, and you would be the last I’d let in my bed.”

He leers at me for the hundredth time. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

The innuendo makes me nauseous.

“An STI?” I chuckle just to irritate him further, sure that he’ll stomp away like a wounded, spoiled kid. He’s going to tattle, and I’ll get a call from Augustus. Fragile little ego.

“Fuck you. I guess you don’t want to find out from where you come from.”

Without a second thought, I spin around, my insides churning with the force of a tsunami, but my voice doesn’t waver. “That’s impossible.”

Because if he knew, then Augustus would have had the information for a longer time, and his refusal to tell me is a betrayal of my loyalty.

“I guess you’re finally interested in something I have to give you.” His voice drips with arrogance, looking smug about finally getting one over on me.

I jerk my chin at him. “What do you want?”

He cocks his head, shoving his hands in his pants. “Beg.”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

I have never begged and never will. I will find out what he knows, even if it costs me everything, including my sanity.

He inhales deeply, aware his chances dim by the second, just like my patience.

“Kill Enzo Ferrara for me, and I’ll tell you.”

“Does the Council approve?”

Even though I know the answer, I want this power-hungry asshole to confess his betrayal. Augustus and the Ferraras have a deal in place. No one touches the other.

“No.”

Of course not.

“That is treason.” I remind him, even though he’s brimming with self-importance. That arrogance will get him killed one day. I am absolutely certain. Time has a way of setting things right.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” he says with a playful lilt as if we’re in on a secret.

Satisfaction etches on his face. He knows he has me.

Am I really willing to risk my life and everything I’ve built for myself to discover something that seems inconsequential when weighing the costs?

Once again, I’m trapped because I can’t ask Augustus. Apparently, he doesn’t want to share the information with me. Why? Why is he hiding my birth information from me? I agreed to become his assassin, trained since I was barely a teenager. Doesn’t he owe me the truth?

Fuck it. It’s a risky endeavor, but what could go wrong? While my “calling card” is a bullet straight to the heart, I will just shoot Enzo several times and cover my tracks. The trickier part is if Augustus needs me, I must be at his beck and call.

I could play the vacation card. It’s long overdue and I can become a ghost if necessary. No one knows all the names I use for my missions, not even the Council.

My stiletto heels click clack, each step echoing with finality. “If you lie to me, I will kill you.”

A sigh rolls out his mouth. “I am not stupid, Luciana.”

“Why do you want him dead?”

“I won’t jeopardize my position.”

His father’s untimely death brought him the seat at one of the most important tables ruling the world.

They’re the unofficial kings of Italy, their influence spanning through Europe and across the oceans.

Nothing happens in the financial or political world without them knowing and influencing decisions to benefit them.

“The Ferraras have long relinquished their seat. I doubt they want it back.”

While I made my decision, the distant voice of my common sense insists on continuing this conversation, wanting to gain every bit of information.

Even if this happened before my time, I’ve spent countless hours learning about the Council, their members and rituals. The Ferraras moved to the States and made themselves a home in Reno, taking over the nightlife and ruling from the shadows.

He clears his throat. “My cousin must die. He’s not like my uncle.”

So he’s afraid. Family ties are so messy.

“How is he different?”

“He’s expanding his family’s empire, making him look—”

He stops himself as if not able to admit someone could ever be better than him, when it wouldn’t take much to achieve that. The Council knows about Adamo’s proclivity to gamble, paying exorbitant amounts of money to indulge his lavish lifestyle. He’s not a contributor, he’s a spender.

Face to face, he lifts his hand to touch me, but raising my eyebrow stops him. No one touches me. My skin is a canvas of purity and flawlessness. No man will touch me. No man will get inside of me. No man will know me.

He glowers. “Get it done. Quickly.”

Done with having him in my space, I cast an intent look his way. “Don’t tell me how to do my job. You know how I work.”

“Yes, half the payment now. Half when it’s done.”

You still have a bit of time to give up on this , the voice inside my head says and quickly quiets. A ravenous desire for the truth blasts through, deafening me. Not knowing has haunted me my entire life.