Kiss Of Death: A Dark Mafia Romance

Una

Two years later…

Bitter wind whips around me. The snow beneath my knees melts, soaking through my jeans as I focus through the binoculars at tonight’s mission; a non-descript grey building hunkered within the other snow-covered businesses in the commercial district. It’s just a few miles outside Moscow, almost hiding in plain sight. From the outside, it looks like a pharmaceutical supply company. It’s a good front, a reasonable excuse for the guards on the door, but I know they’re Elite from the way they’re dressed. This facility isn’t a military base though. Our intel suggests it’s another lab. This isn’t where soldiers are trained, it’s where they are created. My son may have been an obsession for Nicholai, but little did we know that the idea of breeding soldiers was not a new one. We’ve already shut down two exactly like this one.

Two years, and every time I think we’ve destroyed all the Elite bases, another pops up. Nicholai is long dead, but the bratva weren’t willing to let go of his legacy. A lot of the facilities simply moved below ground. My guess, his Elite army were an attractive prospect to someone. The bratva certainly isn’t short of power-hungry madmen.

Sasha’s voice crackles over my coms. “Move. Now.”

Lowering the binoculars, I shift my stare through the sights of my rifle. Two quick shots and the guards are down. One more takes out the gunman on the roof. Then Sasha moves in with a team of Italians we picked specifically for these jobs. Nero doesn’t give a shit about rescuing children, but he does care for dismantling anything left of Nicholai. For me, this is personal. I swing my rifle over my shoulder and push to my feet, cutting across the empty top level of the parking deck. Three flights of stairs down, and I’m crossing the quiet street beneath the orange glow of a street light. With the businesses all closed for the night, my boots crunching through snow is the only sound in the eerie silence of deep winter. As soon as I’m inside the building, the steady pop of gunfire greets me. Bodies already litter the floor in the lobby, and I skirt around them on my way to the elevator at the opposite side of the room.

It descends several levels before the doors open on carnage. More bodies, gunshots, blood.

I find Sasha in a control room just off the main corridor, hunched over a computer, hacking their data systems. It’s the easiest way to document everything and trace the women and children being kept here.

“I just need a minute to get through the firewall,” Sasha mumbles, his fingers flying over the keyboard.

“Hurry it up. I want to go home.”

He spares me a cold glance. “Yes, you have a wedding to prepare for.”

“No, I’ve just been here freezing my ass off for a week already.” And I miss Dante. And Nero.

“You’re going soft.”

I ignore him, because he’s right, instead stepping out of the room.

Moving down the corridor, I clutch my gun. The cinder block of the walls gives way to glass. I stop beside the window, staring into a room full of plastic cribs, all lined up in rows. As soon as I push open the door, the high-pitch wails of babies crying filters in. There was a time when the noise would have irritated me, now all I can think is that I’ve never heard Dante cry like that. He’s never had to. I’ve seen enough security footage from these facilities to know how they operate. These babies are left here, expected to be soldiers. Their basic needs are met, but they’re never held, never comforted, and it cracks my cold heart. Even Nero doesn’t truly understand my misplaced morality when it comes to the job I’ve tasked myself with.

I pass the cribs, each child wrapped in an indistinctive white blanket which somehow strips them of all identity, and I finally come to a stop beside the crib in the far back corner. The baby’s face is red, mouth open as though trying to cry, but only a hoarse sound comes out. An identification number, 213, is printed on the tag around a chubby ankle. Sex and date of birth. Female, only two months old. The urge to soothe her pain is a poignant jab in my chest. Scooping the child up, I bring her to my chest and after a few seconds, she quiets. I wonder if Nicholai ordered these children deprived of human touch from birth. It would make the touch conditioning more effective. The thought has me pressing my palm firmly against the baby’s back.

“You’ll be okay, little one.” When I glance at her face, I still. Indigo blue eyes blink up at me; the exact same shade as Dante’s. Something stirs in my chest, this unexplainable pull, a knowing… My pulse rages against my eardrums so hard, I barely hear Sasha approach.

“Una, you need to see something.”

I know exactly what he’s going to say. I can feel who and what this baby is to me. Words get stuck in my throat before finally coming out in a strangled rasp. “I know.”

He holds an open file in front of my face, the identification number 213 is printed at the top of the page. And there’s only one other detail I can focus on. Mother: Una Ivanov. Father: 001011. Just a soldier.

“I…” I look to Sasha, unsure what to do, what to feel. She’s mine, biologically at least. But I knew that, was drawn to comfort this child before I even picked her up. It shouldn’t shock me. This is what Nicholai did, and even now, his effects are still far-reaching. He harvested eggs from my own sister when he had her. We found her daughter, Violet, in a facility last year. It stands to reason that he’d do the same to me. I was in a coma for weeks before I had Dante. They could have done anything to me, taken anything from me. But in two years, we’ve never found a child of mine. I had hoped… I don’t know what I hoped. That no child of mine would ever suffer in a place like this. How many of my children could be out there?

“Do not think about the possibilities, Una.” Of course, Sasha knows exactly where my mind is going. He’s logical like that.

My arms tighten around the child. “Let’s go.” I stride from the room, Sasha following silently. We have teams in place to handle everything. The children will go to orphanages. Raphael and Anna will take in and help the women who have been trafficked, and the facility itself will be destroyed, bringing me one step closer to ending the nightmare that embodied my entire life.

I press my lips to the little girl’s downy head. “I promise, no one will ever hurt you or abandon you again, sladkiy.” It’s a promise I will keep if it kills me, and I have no idea where that will leave me with Nero. All I know is, I owe this child a life.

When the plane lands in New York, Tommy stands waiting on the runway. A briny scent drifts off the dark waters of the Hudson River, and what once seemed so foreign, is now a reminder of home. As instructed, Tommy put a baby carrier in the back of the SUV. I don’t miss his confused expression as he opens the door and waits for me to secure the child.

“Did you tell Nero?” I ask before I close the door and head to the passenger side.

He sinks behind the wheel and shakes his head. “You told me not to.”

“Good.”

“Is this one of those things where I don’t tell him and he kicks my ass?”

“No.” I turn my attention to the window, watching the New York city skyline pass in the distance.

“I’m not even going to ask,” he grumbles.

My stomach clenches with nerves as we creep toward The Hamptons. Nero and I are supposed to be getting married in three days. We’re happy, we know who and what we are. We have Dante. And I’m about to throw a huge wrench in the works because Nero only likes his own child. He hasn’t softened at all where anyone else’s are concerned.

After half an hour of driving through the darkness, Tommy pulls through the guarded front gate of the mansion that was once Arnaldo’s. The house we now call home. Light spills through the windows, illuminating the perfectly manicured lawn.

The baby is still sound asleep as I remove the carrier from the backseat and make my way inside. I don’t generally feel fear, but as approach Nero’s office, it’s very real. It’s fear of the unknown, of potentially having to make a choice.

When I step over the threshold, Nero looks up from his desk, the phone pressed to his ear. His gaze shifts from me to the carrier at my side.

“That’s fine, Gio,” he says. “Let me know what you decide.” Then he hangs up, tossing the phone on the desk. “Morte. I missed you.”

I remain near the door, stumbling over the words I should say. When I don’t move or speak, Nero pushes to his feet and approaches, brows tightly knitted together. “What’s wrong?”

I meet his dark gaze when his fingers brush my cheek. “She’s mine.”

The words settle on his face before his attention drops to the tiny creature sleeping, so blissfully unaware of how messed up her short life has already been.

“I won’t abandon her.” My voice is stronger than I expected, despite what feels like a ball of jagged thorns in my gut. I didn’t carry her the way I did Dante, but she’s no less my child. I feel her, like part of my soul. But she’s not Nero’s child, and he’s beyond sentimental charity. “It’s a lot to ask. I understand if—”

He cuts me off with a kiss, lips lingering over mine. “Don’t you know yet? You could ask me for the world, Morte, and I would hand it to you on a silver platter.”

“This is different.”

“I had considered this might happen. Given Nicholai’s obsession with you. He used your own sister to create a child…” Of course he’d thought about it. This was Nero. He had a plan for everything. “So, ask me.”

“She’s not yours, Nero.” It’s the harsh reality, a brutal truth.

“What’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is yours. Isn’t that what marriage is all about?”

Jesus. It’s not like I brought home a stray dog. I brought home a baby with zero warning. “Just like that?”

“As I said, I’ve considered the possibility for a while. Trust me when I say, a father is not biological. So, ask me, Morte.”

“Will you be her father, Nero?”

“Of course.” A smile pulls at one side of his lips. “A wife and two kids. I’m becoming positively civilized.”

I place the carrier down and grab his face, kissing him hard. I couldn’t love him any more in this moment. He might have been the villain to everyone else, but to me and our children, he was a blood-stained hero. “Just when I think I know you, you surprise me, Capo.”

“There’s very little I wouldn’t do for you, my vicious butterfly.” He pulls me close. “What are you going to name her?”

“You don’t want any input?”

“Well, I did name Dante without you.”

“You did.” I look down at the little girl’s downy white hair, the same as mine and my mothers. “Tatyana. It was my mother’s name.”

“A beautiful name. And I’m sure she’ll be just as beautiful and deadly as her mother. God help us all.” He releases me. “Now, put the baby to bed. I missed you, my soon-to-be wife.”

I snort. “Stop.”

“Oh, you don’t want to be my wife anymore?”

My arms wind around his neck, fingers raking through dark hair. “You know how I feel about your bullshit mafia formalities.”

His lips whisper over my neck. Teeth scrape my skin. “But you make such a ruthless queen of said mafia.”

A high-pitched cry has him stepping away from me and glancing at the floor.

I wave a hand toward Tatyana. “Your new princess calls.”[MOU1]

His brows pull together as he crouches down and scoops Tatyana from the carrier. “Fuck me, I’m not cut out to be a girl dad.” He looks genuinely concerned, and I have to fight a smile. Poor kid has no idea what she’s in for, but he’ll certainly protect her. I stand by the fact that the formidable and violent Nero Verdi is never more attractive than with a baby in his arms. “Come on, Tesoro. Let’s see if we can get you some formula.”

“Nero.”

He pauses at the door. “Yeah?

“I love you.”

“I fucking love you, Morte.” He leaves the room. Tatyana’s cries rise over the sound of his footsteps as he retreats down the hall.

It’s a strange thing, to have had your life mapped out before you, only to have someone step into your path and divert it so violently you can’t remember what it was ever like to be without them. Nero is a dark and twisted reflection of myself. My soul mate if there is such a thing, the father of my children. My monster. Forever.

Thank you so much for reading Una and Nero’s story. I hope you loved them! If you’d like to read Una’s back story, keep reading for Make Me, Kiss of Death #0.5

If you’d like to read Anna and Rafael’s story, HATE ME is available HERE. Free in KU.