Reign of a Billionaire : A Dark Mafia Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

PrologueKingston

Eight Years Ago

We moved through the moonless night like two spirits in the shadows.

I knew by heart every corner patrolled by the guards on the outskirts of the property. Our boots crunched the fresh snow, and I regretted there wasn’t another storm coming to erase our tracks. Goddamned Siberia.

“Mother has security extra tight.” The tremor in Louisa’s voice mirrored the trembling of her cold, slim fingers in the palm of my hand. “Ivan is making a deal with the Tijuana cartel, so she’s extra paranoid.”

I nodded, wrapping my arms around her waist and steadying her before she could step into the spotlight circling the grounds.

“They won’t get to you,” I promised naively. “You’re eighteen. Nobody has the right to hold you back.”

“And you’re twenty-four, Kingston. She’s holding you captive,” she pointed out. I didn’t tell her that once I turned eighteen, she was the only thing keeping me here. I would have run, willing to die trying, but not without her. Not by leaving her behind and vulnerable to Sofia and Ivan’s men.

The December air howled with bitterness, pulling us into its frigid embrace. It whipped at Lou’s soft cheeks until they were raw, but she hadn’t complained once. She was just as determined as I was.

I just wasn’t as sure about her twin. She was nowhere to be found, and we were out of time. The alarms that surrounded the property would be down for precisely fifty seconds. If we weren’t off the property by then, we’d miss our window.

I whispered, “Get down,” and Lou crouched, making herself smaller—if that were even possible. We slinked into the shadow of the guardhouse just as two men turned and headed in our direction. We knew it was empty; every guard was out patrolling the grounds.

“Where’s Lia?” she whispered, more to herself than me. “It’s unlike her to be late.”

“Maybe she changed her mind.” Her breathing stilled, the fog around her mouth evaporating.

“No.” There wasn’t an ounce of doubt in her voice. “No, no, no.”

Liana—or Lia, as her twin called her—was identical to Lou in looks, but the two couldn’t be more different in personality. Louisa was a peacemaker; her twin was a fighter. Lou wanted world peace; Lia wanted to stir it into chaos. One hated the cold; the other thrived in it. In fact, if I had to guess, I’d say she got caught up in covering her tracks, unbothered by how deadly the conditions could turn.

“No, she wouldn’t,” she repeated again, her voice barely above a whisper. Time was running out, and we both knew it. We were moments away from getting the chance to bolt out of here and never look back. “Kingston,” she breathed, gazing up at me through terrified hazel eyes. “What if they got to her?”

Her distress always stirred emotions in my chest. We needed to leave, but I kept the impatience out of my tone.

“If they did, we’ll come back for her,” I promised. Hesitation flickered in her eyes. “Do you trust me?” She nodded without delay, and my chest warmed. “Then trust me when I say this: they’ll wish they never took her if we have to show up armed to the nines to get her back.”

The first flicker of dawn peeked, smiling upward at the dark heavens and throwing shades of blue, purple, and red across the horizon. Lou nodded once, and then we took off in a run.

Right into the trap.

A metallic smell filled the dungeon.

Lou’s screams pierced the dark space. The dreary gray walls and high ceiling supported by stone pillars gave this dungeon an ominous glow.

My wrists burned from the acid being poured onto my flesh, but the pain was forgotten the minute I saw her tied to the chair, folded over with her back exposed.

What was left of it had been flayed from her bones, raw and blistery. Sofia’s men held her down while one poured more acid on her. Her screams shredded my heart to pieces.

I jerked against my binds, fury suffocating me. “You’re all dead,” I bellowed. “All of you.”

Nobody even glanced my way.

“Where’s your sister, Louisa?” Sofia’s voice was colder than the Siberian temperatures as she watched her daughter with icy features.

“I… don’t…” Lou’s voice was weak. Broken. “I don’t know, Mother.”

“Sofia, let her go,” I rasped, the lead settling in my gut. “Liana wasn’t with us.”

“Liar,” Sofia bellowed, her manic expression alarming. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something was off.

“It’s true,” I gritted, the bullet that’d pierced clean through my shoulder burning like a motherfucker.

Sofia’s wild eyes snapped to me, full of hate. “Because they have her,” she screamed, her usually perfect silver chignon disheveled and her eyes wild. “The Tijuana cartel ended her, and it’s your fault, Ghost.” Lou whimpered, tears running down her cheeks, and shook her head in disbelief. “You’re their bodyguard, why didn’t you protect her?”

Lou’s breathing escalated, her eyes darting wildly around to her mother’s guards. “Mother… I… made him… run… with me. Lia didn’t… c-come.”

“More acid,” Sofia ordered, and Lou’s wounded whimper slashed through me. She trembled but fisted her hands, trying to be brave.

I roared with fury, fighting against the chains. Unsuccessfully. Instead, I was forced to watch while enduring my own torture.

I’d been holed up in the windowless room for what seemed like days as I drifted in and out.

Sanity refused to leave me. Somehow it had endured the cruelty inflicted on my body.

My limbs were frozen, my belly empty. My right shoulder was dislocated, and my entire body screamed in pain. I was filthy and naked. I couldn’t hold my head up without getting dizzy. Every breath was agony.

It wasn’t my first beating. The years had been hard. Time had no meaning here. Only torture did. Until I met the girl with the golden-hazel eyes.

The girl who’d grown up with me. My savior.

A cry tore through the haze in my brain, causing me to peel my swollen eyelids open.

“Don’t worry, Lou. I’m okay,” I grunted. All the fucking years of torture and I’d never cracked—until today, when she was forced to partake.

I was hanging by a cord that was cutting through my wrists. Lou had to watch my latest bout of torture. It was either that or have Sofia’s men hurt her too.

And she had done plenty of refusing—her scars were proof.

“I’m so sorry,” she croaked, her cries ripping at my heart. Her face was blotchy and pink, her split lips trembling. Sofia wanted to harden my Lou, make her indifferent to human suffering. But deep in her core, that wasn’t who Louisa was.

“It’s okay. You’re not hurting me,” I assured her while she shook like a leaf. Seeing her pain was gut-wrenching. Blood gushed out of my cuts, but still I cared more for her well-being. She hadn’t actually laid a hand on me, but her presence during the sessions was enough to shatter her.

“I’m okay,” I repeated, barely managing to reassure her with a smile. Before I could say anything else, another punch across my face connected.

“Please stop hitting him,” she begged her mother’s men.

Another punched me in the stomach, stealing my breath. I spit blood, my vision turning blurry.

Louisa’s screams turned haunted, her voice hoarse. I locked on to her blotchy face, her expression full of terror. I refused to pass out. I had to hang on for her. She started fighting against the men who held her, giving her an inch only to pull her back.

“Stop! Please stop,” she begged, her eyes red-rimmed. Fresh tears streamed down her bruised cheeks. “It was my fault.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

I couldn’t let them hurt her.

I lost consciousness several times. The next time I peeled my eyelids open, it was to an eerie silence. I was no longer tied up.

It’d been days, possibly weeks. I had no idea how long I’d been imprisoned. Time was an abstract concept as I drifted in and out of consciousness. Every breath was agony, and my entire body screamed in pain from the bones I was sure were fractured.

But I didn’t give up.

I held on for Lou, my eyes locked on her, drawing strength from God knew where and offering it back. Except she wasn’t moving, and whatever morsel of hope I had left extinguished as I watched her lifeless body sprawled on the filthy ground, her long golden locks stained with my blood.

“Wake up, sunshine,” I said. Please don’t leave me. She didn’t move, lying still like a broken angel. “Please wake up. We have to get somewhere warm. P-please wake up, baby.”

My voice cracked, mirroring my heart. I’d never begged for anything. Not when I was tortured and abused within an inch of my life, not when I wished death on those responsible. But now, I begged and pleaded, calling on whatever deity or divine being to spare her life.

The answer was my own whisper in the cell, my battered body too weak to move. But I willed myself to. I’d die with my hand on her beating pulse, on her chest as it rose and fell.

Crawling on all fours, my muscles shuddered, protested, and became weaker with each inch of space I covered. I felt my energy—what little life I had left—being drained as I fought to get to her.

I reached out, my hand brushing against her ice-cold skin. My breath caught as I draped myself over her unmoving body. She looked as though she were sleeping peacefully, despite her bruised body.

“Wake up, sunshine.” No response. I didn’t care if they continued to beat me until I was no longer recognizable, as long as she lived. “Don’t… leave… me…” I pleaded.

Her left wrist, mangled from where they’d broken it, was cradled against her chest, her body curled up. Unmoving. But my sanity refused to accept that she was dead. There had to be a way to bring her back. I’d do anything. I’d give anything.

The small tattoo on her nape—the one matching mine—played peekaboo and I pushed her hair over it, hiding it as she always did.

“I love you.” I whispered the words her romantic heart lived for.

She didn’t move. Surely if she was alive, she’d open those golden eyes, a mixture of brown and hazel, and smile at me. There was only silence and my shuddering breaths. The blonde hair sprawled all over the bloodstained floor. My blood. It soaked through her golden strands, her body battered and broken. My stomach revolted, but I kept myself from retching.

The bracelet I’d given her lay on the ground by her side, ripped from her wrist and crusted with blood. I sucked in a breath and reached for it, fisting it in my palm, the silver digging into my flesh while the emptiness in my chest grew, the gaping hole expanding until I became darkness.

I couldn’t live without her.

My every inhale was raw, shredding me to pieces. I gasped and clawed at my wounded chest.

I looked up when I heard a scoff and found Sofia Volkov staring down on me with wrathful eyes, surrounded by armed men.

My lip curled back from my teeth, hatred poisoning every ounce of humanity I had left.

I steeled myself and roared, “Bring her back.”

My body collapsed on top of hers, and for the first time in years, my world went still and silent.

Then the darkness descended.