Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 116875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
My hand starts tingling, the long, dead nerve endings waking up. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this much sensation on my skin. I lost the ability to feel anything long ago. In the fighting rings, it was an asset. I felt pain, but it was far away. Like my skin had become armor, and I could only register any brutal blow as heat or pressure.
It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted to touch someone. I usually hate the way it feels—or doesn’t feel. The lack of sensation reminds me that I’m a shell of a man.
Makes me feel half-dead.
But ever since I laid eyes on her, I’ve imagined touching her.
It’s probably because I haven’t fucked anyone since I started this job. I should just go to Camille’s and hire a woman for the night. But I don’t want to leave this girl’s side.
Lately, every time I go to jack off, I imagine her face. My cock swells whenever I see her, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore. Makes me want things I can’t have.
She passes me as I’m hidden in the shadows under a tree. She can’t see me, but she pauses and looks around like she senses that someone’s stalking her.
Satisfaction roars through me. I’m so close, I can smell her perfume. Or at least, I think that strong smell is her perfume. Smells like roses and there aren’t any rose bushes around.
I’m strongly tempted to step out from behind the tree. Two steps and she’ll notice me.
And then what?
Only my loyalty to my brothers keeps me from grabbing her right now and taking her somewhere we can be alone. Where I can touch her all over and figure out why she’s gotten under my skin.
I follow her home, keeping a distance between us. There’s nothing else I can do.
Then I spot an enemy, a shadow slipping along the sidewalk across from us.
It’s a man in a baseball cap, talking on the phone. I’ve seen him before on campus but never this close to her home. He’s like me in this rich neighborhood. He doesn’t belong.
He watches her bounce up the sidewalk and disappear into her home, then finishes his call and leans on the brick wall opposite her house. Watching her, like I’m watching her. He raises his hand to light a cigarette, and the flare of light illuminates the pentacle tattoo on his hand. The symbol of the Vesuvio Mafia family.
Showtime.
I check my mask—a skull bandana that covers half of my face. I cross the street silently and jump him before he takes the second puff of his cigarette. I jab a hand into his throat, and he chokes and drops the phone, his hands rising to defend himself.
Too late. I punch him in the gut, making him double over with a gasp.
I propel him into the shadows so I can interrogate him. “Who sent you?”
He attacks without warning, fists swinging. I let him get a punch in just for laughs, his blow glancing off my biceps. I feel the shock of it, and I know it must hurt, but I can’t feel it. I can’t feel anything anymore. I hit him with a haymaker, and he goes down. The scent of his blood rises in the air.
The guy struggles to rise, but he’s too stupid to know he’s beat. He’s a typical foot soldier, too dumb to tell me anything. I already know he was sent by the Vesuvios, the sworn enemies of the Poisoner. There’s no reason for him to be watching my target unless he’s up to no good. I take great satisfaction in slamming his head into the sidewalk until his body goes limp.
I pick up his phone and hit redial. It’s a burner phone, so there aren’t any saved numbers, but whoever I’m calling has a Metropolis area code.
“Joey?” a gruff voice answers.
“Joey can’t come to the phone.” He’s too busy bleeding out at my feet.
“What? Who is this?”
“I have a message for Don Vesuvio.” I don’t think I’m talking to the head honcho, but it might be one of his sons. “Tell him the Poisoner’s daughter is off limits.”
He cusses me out. “Says who?”
“Fraternitas.”
He sucks in a breath, falling silent as dangerous men often do when I invoke the name of the brotherhood. The Vesuvios are a powerful family with a stronghold in this city, but no one fucks with Fraternitas.
Instead of arguing with me, he hangs up. Probably to call his bosses and tell them what happened. Letting everyone know that if Vesuvios wants the Poisoner’s daughter, they’ll have to go to war with Fraternitas. The fear will ripple through them, and they’ll think twice about attacking my target.
She’ll be safe another night.
The man at my feet comes awake. I lean down and break his neck, feeling a rush of disappointment that the fight is over so quickly. My blood is pumping hot through my veins. I want a worthy opponent, more fighting, more blood spilled.