Brutal Savior: A Dark Mafia Romance (Brutal Reign Book 2), page 1
Brutal Savior
Brutal Reign Book 2
Sasha Leone
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Epilogue
Epilogue
Thanks For Reading!
Who is Sasha Leone??
Prologue
Valentina
10 years ago...
You play or you die.
That was the last reminder I received before this suffocating black bag was tugged over my head and I was forced to sit down at the piano that will decide my fate.
No. Not just my fate.
The fate of my entire family.
Through the darkness, I can sense the ruthless violence playing out around me.
Ferocious fists stab through the air. Blood splashes onto the floor. Bones crack. Desperate grunts and growls and cries echo beneath my soft serenade as boys and young men fight for their lives.
The savage cacophony is impossible to ignore, but I must concentrate.
One wrong note, and we’ll all be put to death.
Blindly, I feel my way through the first movement of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, my skinny fingers sweeping over the ivory keys that have been placed before me.
From the moment Mama first taught me how to play the piano, I’ve dreamt of performing in front of an audience. It didn’t matter what other fantasies I’d had beforehand, after my first note all I could see in my future were dazzling concertos and standing ovations.
But I should have known better, my life was never going to turn out that way.
This is no dream I’m living in.
This is a nightmare.
Somewhere nearby, a heavy body hits the floor with a vicious thud. Every inch of me wants to flinch away from the dreadful sound, but I keep my cadence.
This classical piece was specifically requested by the leader of the Council of Shadows. It’s the one bit of mercy I’ve been provided. I could play it in my sleep. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy. In fact, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. And it’s not just because of the dreadful barbarity that dances behind the darkness of my hooding.
It’s because my older brothers, Tomek and Roman, are among the young men fighting for their lives.
No matter what happens here tonight, I’ll never see them again. Their dark fates are assigned. If they live, they will each be given to a powerful Greek mafia family to serve out the rest of their days as indentured assassins.
If one of them loses their battle, though, we will all be slaughtered. Same goes for if I slip up.
Someone is watching me carefully. Boring a hole through my soul and counting every meter I strike.
My only way out of here is a perfect rendition, but even then, it will all be for nothing if even one of my brothers can’t become the killer he was born to be.
Heartache holds my heart hostage as a single tear escapes my brave face. Underneath this black bag, no one can see me cry, but I’ve been conditioned to look strong, no matter how weak I feel. That is my duty as the Barinov princess. So, I sniff back the tear and continue to play.
This is the morbid price we pay for being the children of Sergey Barinov, shadow king of the Black Delphi and leader of the underworld’s most feared network of assassins.
For all of Papa’s power, he still answers to the Council of Shadows. They are the secret society who founded the Black Delphi, after all. And to keep the shadow king’s power in check, they make sure he follows the rules.
And that means forcing us to participate in this death waltz.
The Great Awakening.
Held once every twenty-five years, it’s meant to strip the shadow king of everything. Money, wealth, influence, family.
The logic goes that if he truly deserves to hold onto his throne, then he will prevail. But he must do so without any attachments.
That means no heirs.
Fortunately for me, girls are not considered heirs to the Council of Shadows.
Still, if I screw up my part in the Great Awakening, I die. But if I succeed, and my brothers also survive, then I will be allowed to return to my fractured family.
Tomek and Roman don’t ever get to come home, though...
Despite my best intentions, a new wave of heartache batters down my brave face and hot tears begin to carve down my cheeks.
My family is being torn apart. And even though I’ve known this was coming for almost my entire life, I can’t help but splinter under the devastation of finally confronting it head on.
Papa always warned us kids not to get too close.
We never listened, of course; kids never do. But I don’t think he really meant it anyways. Our family was too full of a certain kind of doomed love; despite the inevitability of our fates, we all became experts at forgetting our futures.
My brothers and I all played and fought and cared for each other like regular siblings.
... If only we were a regular family.
The intensity of the pain that burns through my heart at this moment almost makes me regret it all—the laughter, the adventures, the bed time stories, the makeshift recitals.
A stubborn side of my soul is almost ready to curse my brothers.
They should have known better than to let me care for them. After all, they were older. Wiser. Now, as they fight for their lives, I’m left to fight off the very troubling thought of what I’ll be left with if I survive this test.
Loneliness.
... Well, not complete loneliness. Obviously, Papa and Mama will still be around—and also, if a small miracle is allowed to occur, then Leonid will remain as well.
Leo is my youngest brother. At twelve, he’s still three years older than me, but that never seemed like all that much compared to the five years that Roman had, or the seven years of Tomek.
Two weeks ago, he accompanied Mama on a trip to America, and though they were supposed to have returned yesterday afternoon, they never showed.
At first I was worried. All of our lives, Papa has made a point of being blunt with us kids. The truth is the truth. Tradition is tradition. Duty is duty. From an early age, we were made to understand and accept the structure of this dark world.
But this morning, Papa was unusually tight-lipped about the whereabouts of Mama and Leo—not that he ever told us why they left in the first place. It all worried me greatly. What if something horrible had happened to them?
That dread of the unknown followed me into this black cavern. However, the moment the fighting started, a small sense of relief washed over my tangled nerves.
Wherever Leonid is, it’s got to be safer than here. And even if it’s not, at least there is hope outside of these suffocating walls.
Maybe Papa sent them into hiding, just in case we fail here...
When a cry of agony cuts through the air, I can’t help but wince—the shout is quickly followed by a sickening crunch.
Not even the pleasant timber of this elegant piano can distract me from what’s happening in between the notes I play so carefully.
If I could, I would speed up my tempo and get this all over with. But I know the rules. Papa’s words of warning whirl around in my mind like a looming tornado.
You play or you die.
He was never one to shy away from telling his children the score, no matter how brutal reality was.
I’ve heard about the Council of Shadows before.
According to Papa, the unseen men are direct descendants of the original founders of the Black Delphi. Corrupt Greek statesmen of the underworld. In my mind, that makes them as ancient as the mummies at the museum. Sinewy and jagged and layered in the dust of eons passed.
My skin crawls at the thought.
Still, Papa never failed to remind us that without them, we’d all be on the streets, freezing to death in a cold Moscow winter. It was the Black Delphi who gave him a chance to make something of himself. It was those ancient demons who let him fight for the power he now holds.
Well, the power he used to hold.
“Nothing is forever, Valentina.”
I’d never fail to hear that when I was sad or frustrated. But now, it’s taken on a whole new meaning.
Suddenly, somewhere in the distance, a booming voice breaks through my concentration. The announcement is in a language I don’t understand, but the tone is clear. Someone has won th
There’s no point in taking the time to cross my fingers or pray for good fortune. If it was one of my brothers, I’d probably already be dead.
As I continue my way through the Moonlight Sonata, a chorus of wails begins to rise in the distance.
Slowly, I’m walled in by the visceral agony of those suffering around me. The blood churning screams skate down my spine like blades against my bones.
Still, I play.
One by one, the wails that surround me begin to fizzle out.
This first movement of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata doesn’t last long, but I’m still a minute or so away from the ending when a dead silence overtakes the cavern.
By the time I hit the last note, there’s nothing left to hear. A hush has fallen over the world.
... Until a quiet sob breaks through the heavy blanket.
Slowly, the sobbing deepens. Before it can reach a fevered pitch, a clap of thunder explodes through my eardrums.
I’ve been around death enough in my short life to know that it’s from a gunshot.
When the roar fades and the silence returns, the sobbing is gone, and so are the last bits of my childhood.
But I’m not allowed a moment of comfort.
Suddenly, footsteps approach, and a cold unfamiliar touch begins to crawl along my shoulder. I’m too scared to move as the stranger traces a frigid line over my throat.
A tattered breath escapes my flared nostrils as dread worms its way inside of my very soul. One of my brothers must have lost their battle. We’ve failed. This is the end...
“Enough!” Papa’s voice erupts through the crackling air. Almost immediately, the strange hand retreats. “This farce is over.” A cold gust passes through me just before it’s replaced by the warmth of a more familiar body.
I feel Papa’s hands on my arms. He lifts me onto my feet. Without removing my hooding, I’m marched from the endless marble cavern.
It’s not until we’re back in the limo that Papa removes the black bag from over my head. The back windows are too tinted to see out of, and I don’t dare ask where we are, but it doesn’t matter. There is no going back.
Still, I’ve never been much for silence. I guess that’s what happens when you’re the youngest of four children.
“... They survived, didn’t they?” It’s more of a plea for hope than an actual question. We’re both still alive, so that means Tomek and Roman must have won their fights... right?
Dad takes a deep breath and I catch him shaking his head ever so slightly. “Those boys you knew as your brothers don’t exist anymore.”
Dreadful claws dig deep into my heart. “What do you mean?”
“They’ve become something else. Something you wouldn’t recognize.”
Despite the ominous declaration, I can’t help but feel a pinch of relief. Tomek and Roman are still alive.
“... Will I ever see them again?”
“No.”
“Will you?”
“No more questions, Valentina.”
Papa doesn’t sound angry. Instead, he looks exhausted and utterly defeated. I’ve never seen him like this before, and it’s almost more terrifying than the ritual itself.
What comes next?
“I want to see Mama. I want to see Leo...” My head pounds and my heart threatens to shrivel up into nothing. For all of his love, Papa has never been one to offer up a soothing touch.
“Rest, little one,” he sighs, patting the back of my hand.
But his skin has gone cold, and so does mine as I understand that there’s nothing left to say.
There are two holes in our hearts that will never be refilled, and that emptiness will haunt us forever.
It’s been three days since I was forced to play my final goodbye to Tomek and Roman.
I already miss them like crazy.
In the years before the ritual, the two of them used to roughhouse with each other in the background while I practiced. Back then, I found it annoying, but no matter how much I pleaded, Papa would never stop them. Neither would Mama. In fact, they’d both encourage Leo to join in. Now, I know why. All this time, we were being prepared.
Of course, I knew this back then, too. Papa made sure of it. But it never seemed real. Nothing ever did.
Now, everything is too real. When I wake up in the morning, the sunshine streaming in through my open window is too bright, the air is too cold, my blankets are too heavy, my heart is too empty.
The only way I manage to drag myself out of bed is by convincing myself that today will be the day that Mama and Leo finally return home.
But when I stumble out of my room and see an empty foyer, I know that today will be just as lonely as all the others.
Our family used to live in a mansion, and, still, that home never felt half as vast as this little bungalow does right now.
Because, as I search for Papa, I don’t hear Tomek snoring from behind his half open bedroom door. Roman isn’t already up and shooting on the basketball net outside. Leo doesn’t bug me to play chess with him. Mom isn’t cooking breakfast in the kitchen. There’s no piano to escape to. No music to lose myself in.
It’s just Papa and me. And Papa’s doing what he always does in the morning. Working. Silently.
Usually, I’d find him in his office. But there’s no space for an office here. Instead, I turn to see him hunched over the kitchen table, passed out on a pile of documents after a hard night’s work.
But as I approach, I realize that he isn’t sleeping.
My heart stops beating.
... He’s sobbing.
A mountain of dread collapses over me.
I’ve never seen him so devastated, and the sight threatens to crush me.
The heaviness is terrifying.
Still, I somehow force myself to trudge over to him. When Papa feels my hand on his shoulder, he snaps upright and wipes the tears from his swollen eyes.
“Papa, it’s alright...” I whisper, not quite believing it myself.
Something is seriously wrong, and the way Papa is looking at me hurts my soul in a way that I can’t quite describe.
“Valentina...”
“... What’s the matter?” I ask, not wanting to know the answer. Whatever it is, it’s too heavy for me to take. Not that it matters. I feel the need to comfort my Papa. Right now, we only have each other to lean on.
Papa picks me up and sets me down on his lap. I can feel the thumping of his heart as I nuzzle into his chest.
“I will never let anything happen to you,” he croaks, his grip tightening around me. “Even if I have to burn this entire world to ashes...”
He cradles me in his arms and I try to fight back the encroaching darkness that wants to pull me away from him. My papa needs me, and I need him.
But before I can find too much comfort in his arms, my eyes fall on a photograph that lays in the middle of the kitchen table.
It takes a second, but as I blink the sleep from my eyes, I recognize the pale, lifeless face splayed out in the image before me.
“... Mama...” It comes out as a rasp. Papa immediately lunges forward, turning the photograph around. But it’s too late. There are others, and each one is more gruesome than the last.
In another photograph, Mama’s hand, adorned with her wedding ring, is crumpled like a dead spider... and separated entirely from her body.
Her leg is in another picture. Her torso somewhere else...
Papa starts to shake. But he doesn’t turn over the remaining photographs.
“She’s dead, Valentina. Those Irish bastards killed her... The fucking cowards...” Slowly, his sorrow is overrun by fury. Papa’s pulse quickens and his grip tightens around me. “They couldn’t even face a woman and her child before blowing them to pieces... A goddamn car bomb...”
