Ruthless Heir: Chapter 9

“Where is the girl?”

I can practically smell Krol’s putrid breath from across the gilded room.

It doesn’t matter that Drago’s base is set up a hundred feet below the ground, he’s done his best to recapture the ancient sense of underworld royalty he was once brutally deprived of.

It’s that sense of power that we’re all still chasing—even if we are slowly starting to disagree on how we’re going to finally fucking catch it.

“She’d be buried six feet under if you’d had your way,” I snarl back. Krol always finds a way to get under my skin. But this time is different.

He was in charge when Bianca was almost killed. I’m not going to fucking stand for that.

“I ordered my men to shoot anyone who looked Irish or Italian,” Krol shrugs, his withered face stuck half way between a sneer and a disgusting smirk. “I guess you’re starting to look like a mick—or maybe more of a wop.”

Tilting his head to the side, he mockingly studies me. “Yeah, I could definitely see how you could be mistaken for a dirty fucking wop.”

“I swear to God, Krol,” I growl, fists clenching into brutal weapons.

“Try me, little prince.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

I’m only allowed to take one step forward before Tytus lifts his heavy arm across my chest.

My friendly beast stays silent, but I feel his nervous energy. It’s directed over to the center of the room, where Drago leans against a large mahogany desk.

“Is that all?” Drago asks, his calm tone undercut by a threatening impatience.

“I’m doing just fine,” Krol says. “It’s the pretty boy who always seems to have a problem.”

Forcing myself to ignore the fucking serpent, I step back from Tytus’ raised arm and look towards the man who is supposed to be my adoptive father.

“Who were those men who you sent to ambush us?” I ask, gently trying to divert attention away from Bianca’s whereabouts. “I didn’t recognize any of them.”

“They were expendable contractors,” Drago calmly explains. But I’ve known him long enough to hear the fury bubbling just beneath his words. “They did what they were paid to do. And then they all died like they were supposed to.”

“And who told them to shoot the Byrne princess. You or Krol?”

Drago’s black eyes dig deep into my soul as he silently challenges me to question him again.

“No one was supposed to kill that bitch,” Krol spits. “Or you, for that matter—though, you’re making me wish I had put a bounty on your fucking head.”

“If you didn’t order them to shoot her or me, then that means you must be fucking incompetent as hell, right? Because we both got fucking shot.”

“I heard that the princess was only grazed,” Drago says, his deep voice lifting as he stands up from the edge of his desk. “And I barely see a limp on you anymore. From what I understand, you weren’t even shot. Am I supposed to think that the fearsome Gabryjel Corso is bothered by a bit of shrapnel?”

Fuck. Someone must have let the true nature of our injuries slip. It could only have been Tytus or Roz. They were the only ones there, after all.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Roz’s head drop ever so slightly. I know that look. It was her. But it wasn’t on purpose. Sometimes, she can talk too much.

I’m not mad. Not at her. How could I be? Especially after she helped dissolve her own state-of-the-art tracking device from under Bianca’s skin, and mine.

Sure, I had to knock Bianca out for an extra day so that she wouldn’t feel the intense pain of the process. But it was well worth it to know that I’m the only one in this entire fucking world who knows where she is.

Grinding my teeth, I remember the acidic burn of the neutralizer Roz injected under my skin. I’ll be having nightmares about that for the rest of my life.

But at least Bianca won’t have to remember the agony.

“Are you listening, boy?” Krol barks from his corner.

“Yes,” I grumble back, keeping my gaze peeled ahead. Stay focused, Gabriel. “But I’ve decided to no longer respond to my fake name.”

Corso.

For as much as I hate the phony last name, it’s not the real reason I’m bringing it up now. No. I’m just trying to bide my time until I can figure out how to keep Drago away from Bianca.

“Is your name not Gabryjel anymore?” Drago asks, his black brow lifting in my direction.

“It may be. But I don’t want to be called Corso anymore. Tell me my real name.”

“No,” Drago responds, venom lacing his tone. Finally, the fury is bubbling over. “Not until you’ve earned it.”

“Then tell me what to do next.”

“Give me the girl.”

Fucking hell. So much for biding some time.

“No.”

I can practically hear Roz’s head snap back up. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tytus straighten up too.

They both knew I was planning on standing my ground against Drago. But none of us have ever dared to be this direct.

“Excuse me?” Krol immediately responds for his master. “How fucking dare—”

Raising his hand into the air, Drago shuts his lapdog up with a single motion.

But I was never worried about Krol. If push comes to shove, I could kill Krol, even if he’d probably manage to take a chunk out of me first.

Drago, however… Even if I got the upper hand, could I really kill the man who took me in when I had nothing and no one? Could I end or journey together like that? After he’s promised me the world?

“Don’t let your little crush get in the way of our destiny, Gabryjel,” Drago quietly warns, his voice shaking ever so slightly—the tremors before an eruption. “This is not a game.”

“I’m not playing,” I respond, dead fucking serious.

“But are you lying?”

“To who?”

“To me. And to yourself.”

“Have I ever managed to sneak a lie past you?” I test him. The truth is, I have, if even just a handful of times over the course of my life. But more often than not, Drago is able to see past my deception.

Not this time. I won’t let him. He doesn’t need to know of all the games I’ve already played with Bianca. And of how she’s inadvertently playing with me too.

“So, the truth is that your tracking devices got scrambled in the ambush? That’s why they aren’t sending a signal anymore? The truth is that you no longer trust me with the safety of your captive, because of how Krol handled the ambush? The truth is that you think you know the plan better than I do? That you are willing to put the fate of everyone here in the palm of your hand? That you can handle it?”

All I can do is stand tall and take Drago’s accusation with a stony face.

“My answers are all the same: yes,” I bluff, hoping that Roz and Tytus can keep the lie going for as long as I can.

“Fine,” Drago nods, his sharp black eyes cutting through me. “Keep the girl for yourself. As long as she’s safe, it doesn’t matter. Not right now. But I’m holding you personally responsible for her well-being. And when the black priests arrive from the motherland, you will reveal your bride to us all once again. Understand?”

“So be it.”

Clearly, my lies haven’t been accepted as wholly as I hoped. Drago is violently suspicious, but he’s being smart enough not to push me. Not yet.

There’s no point in starting a civil war before he can reap the benefits of my inheritance.

“Rozalia,” Drago says, snidely turning his attention away from me. “Make more of those tracking devices.”

“Yes, sir,” Roz dutifully nods. “But it might take a while. I’ll need to find the specific ingredients.”

“Tytus, get your sister what she needs.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now go.”

With a single wave of his hand, Drago sends my only two allies back into the darkness outside. But they leave behind a sliver of warmth.

Thanks to them, I will have the time I need to figure out my next move.

When the door closes behind them, Drago gestures at Krol. “You wait outside. I’d like to speak to my son alone.”

Krol’s face twists in disgust at that word. Son. He hates that I get the title and he doesn’t—even if it wouldn’t make sense for him. The lapdog is old enough to be Drago’s younger brother.

It’s pathetic.

“Sir, I—”

“Leave,” Drago orders once more.

He never asks twice, and Krol reluctantly obeys, making sure to brush awfully close to my shoulder on his way out.

When the door slams shut behind him, Drago turns his back to me. Circling around his desk, he opens a drawer and pulls out a matchbox and a Cuban cigar.

“Come here,” he says, gesturing me forward.

When I’m close enough, he reaches out and hands me the matchbox. Then, he leans across his desk, cigar in his mouth.

“I’m not a kid anymore,” I sneer, realizing what he’s doing.

“Clearly,” Drago replies, not budging. “You used to love lighting my cigars when you were younger.”

“I liked feeling useful.”

“I know. And I’ve always done my best to make sure you knew just how useful you could be. It’s why I finally told you about your ancestry. About your bloody history. About your parents and their kingdom and those who ripped it all away. So that you would understand that you are more than useful. Gabryjel. You are the only way I will ever become whole again. We will take back what’s ours. But not if we fall to in-fighting first.”

“You almost had me killed,” I remind him. And Bianca.

“That was Krol. But it was my mistake to trust him around something so fragile. You know the man well enough. He’s like a bull in a china shop. We’re just lucky you were there to save the most delicate item.”

Drago is trying to comfort me, but all I can see is the gut-churning image of Bianca bleeding out on that alley floor.

“I’m just doing my job,” I grumble. Finally, I give in and strike a match, lighting Drago’s cigar before throwing the box back down onto his desk.

“This isn’t a job,” Drago says, after taking a long puff. “This is destiny.”

“We won’t know that it is until the dust has settled.”

“I’ve already seen enough,” Drago says. A smoke ring floats from his thin lips, hovering just past my ear. “You’re finally starting to like this girl.”

“I’m starting to like the idea of becoming king, and she’s the only way that’s going to happen,” I try to deflect.

“It’s true,” Drago nods. “But it’s always nice to have some kind of affection for your pawns. It makes it easier to spend the necessary time with them.”

“But harder to betray,” I hear myself mumble under my breath. Immediately, I regret saying the words out loud. They make it sound like I’m having doubts.

I’m not. For this plan to work, I don’t have to betray Bianca in the end. She could become my queen…

But first, she needs to survive being my captive.

“I’m glad that you’ve at least come around to this plan,” Drago sighs, taking another puff of his cigar. “Is the girl alright?”

“Yes.”

“Are you alright?

“Yes.”

“Good. Because I have more work for you.”

The announcement doesn’t surprise me. Adoptive father or not, Drago has always found ways to put me to work.

“Tell me what to do,” I respond, subtly crossing my fingers, hoping that whatever this job is, it won’t keep me away from Bianca for too long.

I already crave her like crazy. I need more. More of those crystal blue eyes. More of those soft pink lips, that tender throat, her tight body, those perky tits.

Most of all, I need more of her fire.

It’s cold down here in hell. But somehow she manages to make it a whole lot fucking hotter.

“Are you still willing to do whatever it takes to regain the crown that was stolen from you?”

“Yes,” I growl.

“Whatever it takes to make those responsible pay for what they’ve done?”

“Yes,” I respond, with far less conviction.

For as little as I know about my past, Drago has let a few details slip.

I know that Polish drug lords killed my father. I know they chased my mother to America. I know they couldn’t find her, so in response, they extinguished every trace of our family from the motherland.

I know if they hadn’t done that, I might already be king of the Polish mafia—one of the most ancient and feared underground syndicates to ever exist.

I also know that I will never have the satisfaction of getting my revenge on those drug smuggling fuckers, because the Kilpatricks wiped them all out decades ago.

But most clearly of all, I know that my mother survived the purge… until Ray Byrne found her.

Until Ray Byrne killed her.

My fists clench and my chest tightens as I remind myself of what I need to do. Perhaps Bianca will become more than just my captive someday… but after I do what needs to be done, could she ever really become my queen?

“Ray Byrne will die,” I assure Drago. “I will make sure of it.”

“Good,” Drago nods. Finding an ashtray, he rids himself of his smoky cigar.

“But revenge won’t keep us in power. Sure, it may fuel us now, but once we have wiped out our enemies, we will still need to rule.”

“I understand.”

“Do you understand that power is leverage?”

“Yes,” I grumble, becoming impatient. Just tell me what I need to do so I can get back to my captured princess.

“I knew you would,” Drago says, pursing his lips. “It is for that reason that I need you to return to the Byrne family.”

It takes me a second to process what I just heard, but when I do, my stomach drops a hundred feet deeper than this fucking underground lair.

Whatever kind of hellish task I was expecting, it definitely wasn’t that. Anything but fucking that.

“What?” I blurt out, unable to control my disbelief.

“You need to get close to Rian Kilpatrick. It’s absolutely essential to our future struggle to stay in power.”

For a moment, my outrage is bottled and a flash of relief passes through me.

“He’s still alive?”

“Yes. The lion managed to kill the last of our men and escape.”

Shaking my head, I try to rid myself of the warm relief lapping against the inside of my chest.

I’d just assumed he was dead. Fuck. I was dreading Bianca’s reaction to the news.

But he’s not dead. And that’s somehow even worse.

The lion is alive. And probably engulfed with fury about the disappearance of his cousin. The same cousin he last saw me with.

“What the fuck does Rian Kilpatrick have to do with our power struggles?” I foolishly ask. “Drago, this is fucking suicide.”

“No. It’s not suicide,” he shakes his head. “It’s necessary.”

“They’ll kill me on sight!” I shout. “If they weren’t suspicious of me before, then they definitely will be now!”

“They’ll probably handle you roughly at first,” Drago responds. “Hell, they might even torture you a bit. But I have an alibi all lined up for you. As well as a suspect that you can all hunt down together.”

“Why would they ever believe me? I was already on thin ice. Ray—”

“They will be desperate,” Drago interrupts, lifting his hand in the air to quell me. “They will want answers. They will want a life to end. A villain to disintegrate. And you will have a very detailed description of just the man they’re looking for.”

“Who the fuck could I possibly use to convince them I wasn’t involved in Bianca’s disappearance?”

“Me,” Drago smiles. “You will lead them to me.”

It’s another unexpected blow. Drago is running fucking circles around me.

“A trap?” I try to catch up, blinking away the stars in my vision.

“Precisely. Ray Byrne will do anything to save his daughter. And that includes following you into the mouth of the monster.”

“You promised me I could kill him,” I mumble under my breath, unsure of how to feel. Just a moment ago, I experienced doubt that I could even bring myself to kill Bianca’s father. Now, I’m furious that I might not get the chance to decide on my own.

It feels like I’m being pulled apart from the inside out.

“Plans change, Gabryjel,” Drago says. “Are you willing to change with them, or are you ready to go extinct?”

“I want my revenge.”

“You will get everything you ever dreamed of and more. But first, you must trust me. Do you trust me?”

I don’t. Not anymore. Not after the ambush. But I know I have no choice here. Not now.

“Yes,” I grumble.

“Good. For that trust, you will be rewarded. I may be the one to kill Ray Byrne, but you will be the one who wipes out the last remnants of the organization that betrayed your father.”

“The Reca’s?” Another unexpected fist punches me right in the fucking gut.

“Yes,” Drago nods, the fading smoke from his cigar shrouding his pale face. “The heads of that serpent may have been chopped off long ago, but they still have their disciples. And those disciples remain vigilant. To this day, they still work the docks. They continue their attempts to build and grow and smuggle in enough drugs to rebuild the empire that was taken from them.”

“How the fuck do they tie in?”

“They will be made to look like my crew,” Drago explains. “You will lead Rian and Ray to those traitorous fuckers. Then, you will personally wipe them from the face of the earth, once and for all—much like they did to your family. Only then will I pounce from the ashes. I will kill the Irish king. And then together, we will take his Irish lion. Rian Kilpatrick is more than just a primal beast, Gabryjel. This I’ve learned. And his hidden talents will come in great use for our future reign.”

“How?” It’s all I can manage to spit out after being overloaded by Drago’s sinister twist in our master plan. “How will Rian Kilpatrick help us? Why would he?”

“He won’t have a choice. And you don’t need to know yet. It will all come in due time, just as all else will. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like madness.”

“Indeed it is,” Drago smirks, his lips thin and white and crooked. “Are you in or are you out?

Fucking hell.

The tornado of new information wreaks havoc behind my skull as I try to process everything.

Still, through all of the chaos, I know one simple truth.

If I’m going to keep Bianca safe; if I’m going to fulfill my destiny; if I’m going to finally take what’s mine, then there’s only one way out of this storm.

Forward.

“Fuck it,” I growl. “I’m in.”

But first, I’m going home to see my princess.

Because before I leave Bianca again, I’m going to make sure she understands the ruthless truth of who she truly belongs to.

Me.