Page 11 of Taken by the Mafia King (Kings of Philly #1)

SERA

T he body of the man who’d bought me continued to bleed all over the bed as the man who’d shot him in the back of the neck entered the room.

Without thinking, I pushed the body off me, flailing as I tried to stay calm but lost the battle.

He was fucking dead! Right on top of me.

“Calm the fuck down,” my alleged savior said, coming at me. He growled through gritted teeth, but I smacked at him blindly, trying to get away.

Manhandling me seemed to be no problem for him. Within seconds, his strong hands clasped my arms, twisting them as he pulled me against him, putting yet another bag over my head and hoisting me over his shoulder.

He didn’t tie my wrists though. Still wild, I bucked and tried to comprehend what was happening.

He merely adjusted my weight with a little toss that sent me a couple inches into the air.

When I came back down and landed on his shoulder, it took the wind out of me.

A hiss of involuntary sound left my lungs.

He patted my rear end as if calming a skittish dog.

I clenched my teeth and ached for the never-ending fear to turn into something else. Anger.

Why couldn’t I get angry? Maybe anger could keep me alive. I thrashed some more once I caught my breath. My knee thudded into his ribs but he didn’t seem to give a damn.

Screw you! I screamed in my head. If only I were brave enough to say it out loud. My heart thundered wildly in my chest and I wondered if he could feel it against his shoulder.

Thump. Thump.

Where was he taking me? What could I be worth to him? Why save me from the likes of Gabriele only to cover my head and drag me off against my will? It didn’t make sense. I kicked again, and this time my captor gave me a rough shake.

“Stop fucking moving. Understand?”

I went still.

Thump. Thump.

The sound of a door opening broke through the blood rushing in my ears. Not another kidnapping…

He took a step down what had to be the hallway to the stairs, and I swung again, fighting for my life to get out of his grasp and to run but he slammed me against a wall, the edge of what had to be a picture frame biting into my back as he pressed his weight against mine.

He had me pinned, his chest against mine. I could feel his heartbeat—slow, steady, totally unbothered. A stark contrast to the way mine beat like a caged bird trying to escape.

Thump. Thump.

“Please let me go,” I begged and tried to wiggle away again. He rammed me against the wall and ripped the bag from over my face. My hair clung to my tear-soaked cheeks. I could barely see him until he hooked a finger in my curls and dragged them away from my eyes.

The thunder of my own heartbeat went silent as I stared into a murderer’s eyes.

“Feel any better?” Killian Ricci asked sarcastically, his deep, rasping voice full of smoke.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t do anything but stare at him.

We were nose to nose, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity that made my mouth go as dry as sandpaper.

His eyes… they weren’t the unearthly gray I remember and recognized the night of the auction.

They were blue . A very pale, glacier blue flaked with silver.

I’d never seen eyes quite like his before.

It was shocking, really, so much of a shock that I didn’t process the scene around me for several seconds.

Blood covered everything . Bodies were scattered across the mosaic tiles. Red splatter stained the fine wallpaper and imported furniture and art of Gabriele de Luca’s home.

“Do not make a sound,” he commanded, his eyes still firmly fixed on my own, “or I will hurt you, Seraphina. You won’t like it.”

Terror that I’d never experienced before in my life paralyzed me to the core as he carefully lowered me to the floor and turned me toward the wall. I felt the cool, edged bite of a knife graze my throat. I didn’t dare swallow.

He turned us, keeping his knife pressed against my skin as he led me through absolute and utter carnage. Voices echoed from the door we’d come out of, far below where we were now. My bare feet slipped over bloody tiles as he soundlessly walked me right through the front door.

A van sat idling at the bottom of the steps. One of his men casually puffed a cigarette as he leaned against it. Night had fallen, the only light that of the ember at the end of the man’s cigarette and the faint glow coming through the windows that spilled over the driveway.

“In,” Killian said to me as if I were a dog. I obeyed, like a dog. Like a fool. What else could I have done? Fought the Mano Della Morte ?

If what he’d done inside this house served as an indication of what he was capable of? Well, I knew my odds, and they weren’t good at all.

He allowed me to climb into the back of the van by myself but grabbed my arm before I shifted over to the far window and shook his head. “Hands,” he said, snapping his fingers.

“Why?” I bit my lip and squeezed my eyes shut. I waited for the slap I knew would burn my cheek any second, but it didn’t come. I slowly opened my eyes to find him watching me with interest as he toyed with the bag that had been over my head only moments ago.

I held out my hands.

“Good girl.” He secured my wrists with cuffs and tightened them. The ghost of a wicked smile touched the corners of his mouth as he held up the bag, letting it dangle from the tips of his fingers by the rope.

I shook my head. Not again. “I’ll keep my eyes closed.”

He snorted.

“Please. It smells bad. It’s dark.”

It’s dark? God, I sounded pathetic.

But he didn’t laugh at me. Instead, he turned the bag over in his hands, pulling the opening apart. “I wasn’t asking.”

I fought to hold back my tears as I bowed my head in submission.

He slid the bag back over my head and secured it with a tug on the ropes, pulling the drawstring just tight enough that I wouldn’t be able to pull it off if I somehow gathered the nerve to try.

As soon as the bag was on and I found myself plunged back into darkness, I let the tears fall.

At least he couldn’t see them. In the inky blackness my mind wandered as if it were trying to escape, sacrificing my body in its place as it retreated into memories of last weekend when I’d eaten a particularly delicious chocolate croissant at a bakery down the street from my apartment.

Why I thought of that in a moment like this, I wasn’t sure, but I could almost taste the chocolate.

My dreamlike trance snapped, my body erupting with adrenaline as voices sounded and footsteps cluttered across the driveway.

Men—lots of them, some of them speaking in Italian—surrounded the van.

The van creaked and trembled as several people got inside.

No one spoke to me or touched me. The van started moving, and I found myself bouncing along at a high speed through the night with no idea where I was going or why.

My thoughts raced as quickly as the asphalt passed under our tires.

How was this all going to end for me?

An hour passed, maybe longer, I wasn’t sure, but the van rolled to a stop and everyone started moving again.

I bit my tongue to stop myself from asking for someone to take the bag off my head.

Soon enough, a firm hand took hold of my upper arm and led me out of the van.

A voice that didn’t belong to Killian warned me about the step down from the vehicle onto gravel.

I moved gingerly, and the stranger holding on to me didn’t rush me.

He led me forward and inside. It smelled like wood polish.

“The girl wants to talk,” someone announced nearby.

I gasped when all at once the bag came off my head and sunlight poured into my pupils.

I blinked, taking a quick look around at the unfamiliar space.

Then my gaze settled on Killian, who stood near a window trimmed with dark mahogany, the first light of day fanning over his broad shoulders and chest and casting shadows over the sharp planes of his face.

His eyes bored holes right through me.

“Tommaso,” he said, not breaking from my gaze. “Take her to her room.”

Killian’s eyes shifted from mine and settled on a different man, this one younger than himself, handsome, but a bit boyish in his characteristics.

The two of them exchanged a look I couldn’t quite decipher, but the wry, tight-lipped smile that touched Killian’s mouth for a fraction of a second left a chill of unease snaking down my spine.

Tommaso stepped toward me, looking me up and down before taking me by the arm and leading me away.

I knew two things.

One, another woman was a captive here, much like myself.

And two, Killian Ricci had just killed another Boss and started a war… over me .

But why?