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I know the Mexicans are the cause of that. Adrian’s in hiding, which means we have no idea when he’s going to strike, or how. It angers me that we have no leads. I’m slowly starting to guess that his son is going to take over. I don’t even know the fuckers name yet here I am, waiting for him.

“You guys have permission to do what you deem necessary, and if you really need approval, go to Viktor. You fuckers know this yet still bitch to me about everything. These meetings would not be needed if you could just do your fucking job.” I’m just fucking annoyed. These fucking retards just asked to order more ammo for highly illegal guns.

We can only order the shit to make them, then it gets shipped to a warehouse in California to be made by a group of secured workers I hired when I took over. Then once they are done, they ship them here.

The manor is my main house. It’s where all the business happens. All the main workers live in this house, or in their own house still on the grounds. I own a hundred acres in every direction of the main house.

They are free to build their home in whatever style they desire with my finances. If they betray me, I blow up their house with them in it, as they are under the assumption they are just packing their shit.

If someone is ready to retire, they must paint their house a certain selection of colors to stand out from the working people. They are free to come and go and roam the grounds, this is their home as well.

After another three hours of these men bickering and yapping about things going on all around the world that we’re involved in, I finally dismiss them, being tired of hearing their voices.

Walking out of the conference room, everyone is hustling around, hushed voices echo the empty halls. People run past me, one of them shouldering me, making me grunt. “Watch it.” The elderly woman whispers a sorry and scurries off.

Catching the next person that passes, they look up at me with fear. “What’s going on?” I question. He stammers a few times before going quiet and looking around for an escape. “What. Is. Going. On.” I pronounce every word, my tone laced with authority.

“You should call your brother, Riot.” His voice is ridden with concern and fear. Everyone here fears me, but that’s not the sound of fearing a person, that’s the sound of fearing something to come. I let him go, and he runs down the hall, disappearing into one of the rooms.

Grabbing my phone out of my pocket, my fingers fly across the screen to pull up Viktor and press call. It rings once before he picks up, silence hanging heavy in the air. “Брат, what is it?”

I hear him sigh, voice shaking as he talks. “It’s mama.” My heart stops, and it feels like the walls close in. “She was shot.” His words sound like they are muffled, the ringing in my ears growing louder. My chest feels tight, my legs growing weak as I take small steps to my room.

It’s mama. She was shot.

*This book is an advance reader copy and is to not be distributed anywhere. [email protected]*

17

Chapter Seventeen

Feels Like - Gracie Abrams

Penelope

The hunger of barely eating is starting to set in. My stomach is constantly yelling for food. After Riot left for a meeting, apparently, he has them once a month to be kept up to date on stuff going on within his businesses. Which makes sense, I guess. I just wish we could spend more time together.

I want to be a part of his world, meet his people, and feel danger that isn’t scary, but thrilling. I want to meet his people. I just want to be with him. All the fucking time. Even as he shits.

I took a shower and lounged around the room for a couple hours, but I’m bored now. It’s three in the afternoon, and Riot is still in his meeting.

It’s been four hours. How do these people have that much shit to talk about?

Riot got me a whiteboard and markers to communicate with people in the house. The action warmed my heart, he cares so deeply that he’s accommodating my disability.

Grabbing that, I head out of his massive room into the grand hallway that connects to pretty much everything in the damn house.

When I reach what looks like a living room, people are lounging on the couches, enjoying lunch or dinner, whatever they prefer.

The girl that was talking to Riot earlier is in here as well. Sensing me staring at her, she looks over at me, a warm smile that reaches her eyes stretching over her face.

She gets up off her spot on a fluffy couch, walking towards me. Her brown, slightly curly hair is cut slightly past her shoulders, half of it pulled up in a ponytail, the rest flowing on her shoulders and back as she moves around.

Her eyes are blue, shining like the ocean and sky, in a siren shape. There is a dark colored ring around her iris, making her bright eyes pop even more.

Her body is thin and toned, abs poking out from her compression shirt. Her thighs are thick, muscles protruding everywhere. Freckles cover her tan skin, bright pink lips all puffy. Her nose is slightly crooked, seeming as though she’s broken it a time or two.

She stops in front of me, her smile as bright as the sun. “Hi! I’m Destiny. I’ve never seen you around. Are you new staff? Oh man, people just keep retiring.”