Page 73 of Unforgiving Queen

The fucker charged at me, a glint of metal appearing in his hands. I remained in my spot, waiting for him to draw closer, then stepped out of the way at the last minute, swinging my hand against his back and cracking his ribs.

He dropped to the ground with a groan, then rolled around on the floor.

“We’re not done,” I drawled. “Get up.”

He scrambled to his feet, his eyes darting left and right. “Looking for this?” I kicked the knife his way. “Go ahead, pick it up.”

His eyes widened, suspicious of my intentions. I stood stoic, letting him grab it. After he picked it up, he whirled around. I stood completely fucking still as he charged. He plunged the knife into my shoulder, but I didn’t even flinch.

After all, I’d been trained to push through the pain. I turned, the throbbing in my shoulder stoking the flames of my bitterness.

Straightening, I let the anger frothing inside me burst free.

“My turn,” I said, then slammed my fist into his face.Crack.Broken jaw. My foot connected with his stomach next, leaving him heaving and clutching his throat. He dropped to his knees, coughing up blood.

Standing right in front of his face, I reached down and wrapped my hand around his neck. His face turned red as I squeezed tighter. He clawed at me, then without a warning, I picked him up and threw him across the pit.

He landed with a thud.

My dick got hard at the mild ache in my muscles, at the fact that blood was about to be spilled at my feet.

He crawled like a bitch, trying to get away, as I made my way over to him. “No, no, no.”

I didn’t feel an ounce of remorse as I stepped on his hand, breaking his wrist.

I spent the next ten minutes creating a canvas of bruises and broken bones, ensuring the fucker would bleed out at my feet.

People screamed and shouted. And still, everything in my life remained unresolved.

As the doctor on the fight club’s payroll bandaged me up, I couldn’t help but find the irony in life. My brother and I were nothing but an investment to Angelo Leone, a man who’d “trained” us with his brutality and cruelty to be his assets. I learned that probably at the same time I learned how to talk. Father invested in us, and he expected a return on his investment. His words; not mine. I never understood what they meant, but when he uttered them, Dante and I knew to nod our heads.

And here I was, right back in another cage.

My mind flickered back to the first time my brother and I talked about running away.

Dante and I sat in the courtyard of our castello after the driver dropped us off from school. Neither one of us was ready to go inside. With the beautiful blue sea on one end, mountains on the other, and colorful gardens in between, the place looked like paradise.

It wasn’t.

This home was our personal hell. The Gulf of Trieste sparkled under the bright rays, and the image of a girl with blonde curls and blue eyes danced in my head.

The way she’d laughed—carefree and full of joy—as she slid through the castello with her sister. I often wondered how it would feel. To be so cheerful. To be so normal.

“We should take Mamma and run,” I blurted out. “Get the fuck away from him. We’d have our own fortunes, be powerful and independent, and Father can go to hell.”

I knew enough to understand my brother and I didn’t have a normal childhood. Our father made sure we were all isolated. He was good at reminding us that we were on this planet only to serve him, and that he could get rid of us as easily as he’d given us life.

Dante turned his head to look at me. “Why don’t we just kill him? That way we can keep our home.”

I glanced around to ensure there was nobody around. If we were overheard and Father learned of our conversation, we’d be beaten black and blue.

“Don’t say that shit,” I ordered him. “Not yet. Not until we’re strong enough to seize power.”

Dante’s shoulders slumped and regret instantly inched its way into my chest.

We were being molded into his protégées—yet another form of control. We resisted at every turn. When he felt us slipping from his reins, he’d work at turning us against each other. But he failed at every attempt. Dante and I made a promise long ago that we’d always have each other’s back.

We were brothers and best friends. Nobody and nothing came between us.