Elite Bratva Brotherhood Series

Pretty things aren’t meant to be broken. But I broke her, and now we both have to pay the price. I’m her nightmare. I’m her savior. And now that I have her signature on an ironclad contract, I own her body and soul.

There are many definitions of Hell. My list was exhaustive, my definitions tragic. Tonight I was adding something new to the very top. Girl number six thirty-two. She arrived on my birthday, the same day, every year: I play Russian Roulette and pull the trigger. She was my omen. My end game. She made it personal. And for the first time in my life, I gave in. A virgin mob boss with no soul.

For ten years the Cosa Nostra has ruled with an iron fist in Chicago—their reign is about to end, and I’ll be the one to bring them down. I’m the Grim Reaper of the Sicilian mafia, and I bow to no one, not even her, so when she asks me to teach her to fight, when she tells me she wants to be made, I give in just so I can piss off the bosses.