She looked around the corner to make sure the males were gone and sighed in defeat. This was her life, one of drugs, murder, lying, and cheating, and of course arranged marriages so that the “families” could come closer together and unite to become stronger and more powerful. But Kettah didn’t want this life, had never wanted it since she knew what was going on. The only problem was when someone was part of this type of family, dealing with organized crime and paid hits on enemies, there was no way out. Well, there was, but it meant a bullet to the back of the head if the offending person was lucky. It didn’t matter that her father was the head of the Russian shifter mob located in America, or that she was his only daughter. No one ever went against Viktor Milokov, blood or not. Okay, so she’d known telling him she wouldn’t marry Marlon would end like this, but she also knew she had to give it a shot. To be born into this world, and into a family that thrived on hurting others, was not how she wanted to live her life. At twenty-one she was an adult, and old enough to make her own decisions, but that wasn’t in the stars for her it seemed.
She took off down the hall, knowing that if she allowed her father to pair her with a male as cruel as he was, her life would end up like her mother’s had: disappearing in the middle of the night after an argument on how her mom wanted out of “the life”. It was just herself and Konstantine, her older brother, who was shamelessly following in their father’s footsteps, and would one day run the business. Her brother was just as apathetic and ruthless as Viktor, and asking him for help would be fruitless, not to mention dangerous since he would see it as a betrayal of the family. Konstantine might be her brother, but she didn’t care for him, not when she had seen him hurt countless people with little thought or regard. She passed guards at every corner, and although they were meant to keep them safe, they were also meant to keep their enemies out, which were plenty. She went into her room, closed the door, and leaned against it. She looked around her perfectly gilded room, smelled the vase of fresh lavender the help had placed on her side table just that morning, and knew she had to escape. Even if Marlon had been a kind and gentle male, she still wouldn’t have stayed. But Marlon was far from the male she envisioned herself being with. He was cruel, sadistic, and took pleasure in degrading and causing pain in others. He was nearing forty, and although that wasn’t too old if she had loved him, the truth of the matter was she despised him. He disgusted her, and she knew as soon as he had her as his wife the pain would be in the form of verbal and physical abuse.
Kettah didn’t dare speak her thoughts aloud, not when every part of the house was bugged for “protection”. But living with the mafia, when there were people just right outside the door waiting to “off you” had every available precaution being taken. Kettah lived in a beautiful golden cage, but it was a cage nonetheless, and she was a prisoner. Tomorrow she would leave under the pretenses of going to the spa. It sounded like an easy enough task, but there was always someone watching, always someone tailing her, and not because her father worried about her safety, but because he didn’t want one of his enemies taking her and using her as collateral against him. It would be tricky slipping away from the goon that followed her out of the house, but it wasn’t impossible. Besides, she had been thinking about this, calculating how this would all play out, for so long it was ingrained in her brain. God, she just hoped this didn’t end up backfiring, because the repercussions were enough to have her skin crawling.
Chapter Two
“Yo, boss, you have that requisition for that ’05 Ford engine?” Maverick looked up from the stack of papers strewn across his desk. Liam, Trace’s son, leaned against the frame and wiped his greasy hands on an equally greasy rag.
Maverick leaned back in his old ass chair, the metal squeaking from his weight, and the stench of motor oil filling his nose. “Yeah, sent that in last week. It should come in today.” Liam nodded, and glanced over his shoulder. The kid was just as big as his fucking dad. Trace Dakota was a burly polar bear shifter that owned the bar and grille Dakota Dark’s. It was also the place Maverick worked occasionally as a bartender, not because he needed the money, but because the work was a distraction that helped to keep his mind occupied on other things than maiming and killing, and silenced the edgy need that was a living entity inside of him. It didn’t matter if he moved to Alaska, or if he became a priest, there was still anger, violence, and pent-up aggression inside of him, feeding his lion until it was like a wildfire consuming him.