Page 8 of Ruthless Commander

It was the finality of our life here.

The cornering. The hunting.

The doing things that could not be undone.

Because as much as I'd brought death to Davol and his men tonight, I'd also brought death to me.

The Besnik Organization would come for me, and they’d come for Edon, too.

I shoved from the car and straightened, that thought slapping the disgust from me. They’d come…but by then we needed to be gone. I strode back inside the house, grabbing a change of clothes from my pack as I went. I checked on my brother before I headed for the bathroom and washed the blood of my enemy from my skin.

They’d come…

I knew it.

I felt it.

Because I’d do the same.

I scrubbed and rinsed, stepped out of the chipped tub, and wiped myself dry with my dirty shirt before pulling on clean jeans and a shirt.

“Mat…” The croak reached my ears as I stepped into the bedroom.

“It’s me.”

“Thought you were a dream.” The hoarse words were barely a whisper.

“No,” I answered coldly. “I’m real.”

He closed his eyes once more. “Where are we?”

“In the past,” I answered. “And the United States is our future.”

“United States?”

“That’s right.” I lowered my gaze to him. “Just as soon as you can move.”

4

Xael

Twelve months before Cosa Nostra

Champagne flowed,fake smiles followed, and my family was thriving with it all at the bullshit gala dinner. I wasn’t sure which one annoyed me more, their lack of spine or the crappy taste of the alcohol. Either way, I’d had enough, enough of my family and enough of this. I shoved up from my chair, drawing my brother’s attention. He scowled, then motioned with his head for me to sit back down. As if I wanted to watch him finger the new bitch he'd brought to the gala under the table once more.

Did he think I was fucking stupid?

No thank you.

I grasped my dress and stepped away, leaving him to mutter something under his breath. Let him bitch, I was over it. My father’s deep roar came across the tables. I glanced his way, to the table where he sat with my mother. But it wasn’t my mother who captured his attention. No, she sat alone, her hands clasped on the table in front of her, empty seats on either side, while my father made a fucking fool of himself flirting with a thirty-something redhead.

The great Taran Davies.

Serial adulterer. Mob boss with bodies buried in our backyard…literally.

Christ, my family was a mess.

I left the party behind. It was getting late, or maybe early, who the fuck knew anymore. All I knew was, the celebrations and the toasts were well and truly over and I was bored. I clutched my dress as I climbed the stairs of the massive mansion and strode along the landing, peering down at the celebration.