Ravenous Kingpin (Kingpins of the Syndicate #4)

Prologue

EMORY

“ W hat the fuck are you doing here, Atticus?”

Killian’s cold voice sent chills down my spine even though it wasn’t directed at me. I’d dealt with my fair share of monsters, but my husband had a ruthless side to him that he hid behind his charming smile.

It probably blindsided people when he attacked; they’d never expect it from someone as beautiful as him.

“Emory and I have business to discuss,” Atticus drawled. I’d been buying time ever since our last encounter, ignoring his messages, hoping to find a solution and the location of the person I’d been looking for without his help.

But the old man was nothing if not persistent.

“Whatever you’ve got to say, now is not the time. And you’re trespassing,” Killian warned. “Tell me why I shouldn’t have my guards shoot you right now.”

“Because this business,” Atticus started, looking at me pointedly, “is the only thing standing between life and death.” He waved his hand nonchalantly. “Besides, they now work for me and the ones who refused are dead.”

Killian obviously thought him full of shit because he wasn’t moved. “My wife’s business is my business, so spit it out and be on your way.”

Dread coursed through me at the knowledge that I brought this dangerous man to our doorstep. I should have never made a deal with him, but desperate times called for desperate measures. And God, I was so fucking desperate.

“Atticus, this isn’t a good time,” I gritted, trying to keep my cool. I couldn’t let Killian learn my secret. Not now.

My heart raced as I watched Killian’s cold gaze lock on the man who held the key to the only thing I cared about.

Atticus’s eyes were on me, his lips lifting into a sick grin as he said, “My beautiful Emory. Time is of the essence if you want your answers.”

I wondered if Atticus was like my father, who had a way of bending the illusion of normality so that it forever stayed out of my grasp.

“What fucking answers?” Killian demanded.

Atticus ignored him. “Let me remind you of our deal: you give me a name, and I’ll give you yours along with the location. Two for one. See? Don’t ever say I’m not generous.”

“What the fuck is he talking about, Em?” Killian repeated.

I waved my hand nonchalantly while my heart threatened to beat through my rib cage. “This guy’s lost his mind.”

Atticus chuckled as if I’d uttered the funniest joke, but there was little humor in his eyes as they studied me.

“Stop looking at her that way, or I’ll dig your eyeballs out of your skull,” Killian warned, his spine stiff, violence in his posture as he blocked me from the bastard’s view.

“This doesn’t concern you, Irishman,” Atticus stated calmly, batting away Killian’s threat. “Emory DiLustro should be grateful for my patience.”

“Her name is Emory Cullen and you better learn to use it,” Killian hissed, his eyes screaming murder. “My wife owes you nothing, and if you don’t get out of here, I’ll secure you a trip six feet under.”

Atticus’s nostrils flared, his gaze now on Killian. It would seem my husband’s reputation preceded him: Killian Cullen did not make empty threats.

Panic zinged through me as my thoughts whirled with a dozen what-ifs, but it was a moot point. I learned a long time ago that you had little say in the cards you were dealt.

I eyed my surroundings for a weapon before remembering Killian kept a gun hidden underneath the table in my foyer.

I took a small step back at the same time Atticus drew two guns, aiming them at my husband and me.

“Don’t move, Emory,” Atticus stated, his voice lethal. “Or you’ll be planning your husband’s funeral.” My movements halted and I leveled him with a glare. “Good girl,” he purred. “Now get back to your husband.”

“Don’t fucking move,” Killian said, his eyes still locked on the unwelcome visitor. “Stay exactly where you are, Em.”

I was so fucking sick and tired of men telling me what to do. Yes, Killian had my best interests at heart, but I could protect myself. I survived two decades under one of the cruelest men in the Syndicate, for fuck’s sake. I deserved some credit.

“Let’s make this quick,” Atticus said with a twisted smirk, “so you two lovebirds can get back to professing your love for one another.”

I should never have trusted this asshole. My cousins and brother wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole and would have advised against my dealings with him had I asked.

But I didn’t ask. Atticus was my ticket to get to her , and that was more important than my pride.

“Unless you want to talk about…” Atticus trailed off, and somehow I knew whatever he was about to say would change my world forever. “Do you want to talk about Amara? You could see her by this time tomorrow.”

Amara. Amara. Amara.

The shock rocked me to my core at finally learning her name. All these years of searching and I finally got that little piece of information that I should’ve had all along.

“Who in the fuck is Amara?” Killian’s voice startled me out of my stupor and my mind raced through a thousand answers.

“It’s now or never, Emory,” Atticus stated matter-of-factly. “Who matters more? Who do you love more? Your husband or…”

He didn’t finish his sentence, but he didn’t have to. What he implied spoke volumes, and it sent a jolt of electricity through me. Did I love Killian? No, it couldn’t be. That part of me was extinguished a long time ago.

My gaze darted to Killian, whose expression was cold as ice.

Atticus’s laugh pulled my attention away. “This is priceless. You didn’t even know.”

I blinked. “Know what?”

“That you’re in love with him.”

A sharp inhale of breath vibrated through the eerie silence. “Whether I love him or not is irrelevant.”

“And to make matters worse—or better—this man is obsessed with you. And now…” He trailed off, his guns still raised, smiling like he just scored big-time.

My gaze bounced to Killian, then back.

“And now?” I rasped, choking on a fear that I’d never be able to tell my husband everything. How much he meant to me. How badly I needed him. How desperate I was to dial the number he’d given me once upon a time.How I kept the biggest secret of all from him and now the fear that he may die without ever knowing it gutted me.

“And now it’s too late,” Atticus drawled as I wallowed in regret. “There’s nobody left to protect you. Not unless you give me the name.”

No matter how much I’d witnessed in my life, how much I’d been warned away from the cruelty of the Syndicate, I realized I’d been spared and protected all along. By my brother. By my cousins. By Killian.

Until now.

We could very easily die tonight, and it would all be in vain. All the love and gratitude I felt for my brother, for my cousins, and most of all, for Killian… It would all die with me.

A sudden movement in my periphery jolted me from my reverie.

Killian lunged for Atticus and a gunshot went off. I heard a grunt as bullets started to fly. The crack of bones followed and warm liquid covered my bare arms. Blood. I pivoted sharply on my heels, my heart and mind racing.

It wasn’t mine.

More gunshots rang out.

“Killian,” I yelled as Atticus started shooting like he was some kind of cowboy, bullets zipping through the air. I scrambled for the gun in the foyer when I was knocked out of the way.

My knees hit the hard floor, and I lifted my head just as a bullet pierced through Killian’s abdomen. He cupped his stomach but still managed to shield my body as my screams pierced through the air.

I crawled closer to him and pressed my hands to his stomach as his eyes darted left and right, blood trickling down the corner of his mouth.

“How could you?” I whispered, tears falling down my face, salting my lips.

“Silly woman.” He shook his head gently, his words barely audible. “You think a world exists where I wouldn’t die for you?”

“Kill—” I sobbed, my voice breaking. Blood started to run down his nose. “Please, don’t leave me.”

The color began to drain from his face, and I placed my forehead against his. “Why? Why did you do this?”

“Because I… love you,” he said as his hand fell to the floor next to him.

Oh my God. Oh my God.

“Hang on,” I whispered, desperately trying to stop the blood leaking from his stomach and pooling around us. His face was drawn in pain. “Please… please… plea?—”

A hand gripped my hair and I was yanked from my husband. It was then that I saw the bullet in his leg, his shoulder. Panic and fear unlike anything I’d ever felt before gripped me, and I fought to get back to him, screaming and cursing, when a punch in my ribs silenced me.

“Leave her,” Killian wheezed, scrambling to stand before slumping back onto the floor.

My vision tunneled, watching his eyes unfocus before they closed as he stilled.

Forever.