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  Savage Queen

  The Dark Elite #3

  Eva Ashwood

  Copyright © 2020 by Eva Ashwood

  All rights reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Learn more at www.evaashwood.com

  Books by Eva Ashwood:

  Clearwater University

  (college-age enemies to lovers series)

  Who Breaks First

  Who Laughs Last

  Who Falls Hardest

  Magic Blessed Academy

  (paranormal academy series)

  Gift of the Gods

  Secret of the Gods

  Wrath of the Gods

  The Dark Elite

  (dark mafia romance)

  Vicious Kings

  Ruthless Knights

  Savage Queen

  Slateview High

  (dark high school bully romance)

  Lost Boys

  Wild Girl

  Mad Love

  Sinners of Hawthorne University

  (dark new adult romance)

  When Sinners Play

  How Sinners Fight

  What Sinners Love

  (contemporary romance standalone)

  Say Yes

  Contents

  1. Grace

  2. Zaid

  3. Grace

  4. Grace

  5. Hale

  6. Lucas

  7. Grace

  8. Ciro

  9. Grace

  10. Grace

  11. Grace

  12. Zaid

  13. Grace

  14. Grace

  15. Grace

  16. Hale

  17. Ciro

  18. Grace

  19. Grace

  20. Lucas

  21. Grace

  22. Grace

  23. Grace

  24. Grace

  25. Grace

  Epilogue

  Books by Eva Ashwood

  1

  Grace

  Sunlight streams through the kitchen window, catching the gold highlights in my blonde hair as it falls around my face. I tuck a lock behind my ear and lean over my open textbook on the table in front of me.

  “Studying on a Saturday morning?”

  My mother’s voice catches my attention, and I look up as she enters the large kitchen. Our house is big but not ostentatious—Dad wants us to have the best, but it’s important that we don’t stand out too much or draw unwanted attention to ourselves. He may work as a captain to one of the most powerful mafia dons in the country, but as far as the neighbors know, he’s just a normal, law-abiding citizen.

  “Yeah.” I shrug. “I’m going out later, so I figured I’d get it done now so I can enjoy the rest of the weekend without worrying about it.”

  She pauses in the act of slinging her purse over her shoulder, catching my gaze. She looks perfectly styled as usual. Appearances matter to her, and I rarely see her in anything less than full makeup and designer clothes.

  “You’re a smart girl, Grace,” she says, smiling at me. “Motivated. Determined. Those qualities will get you far in life.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Her praise makes me blush a little, but at sixteen, I’m not exactly focused on what will ‘get me far in life.’ I’m more focused on the present, on the here and now. The rest of my life? The future? That all seems so distant.

  “I love you, sweetheart.”

  With her purse tucked neatly under one arm, she walks over and presses a kiss to the top of my head. I squirm a little, uncomfortable with the overt gesture of affection. I know my mom loves me, but she’s usually not big on emotional displays. She shows me in other ways.

  As if she’s guessed my thoughts, she chuckles lightly and steps back, stroking my hair. “I’m going to get my hair done, and I’ll stop at the store on the way back. Anything you need?”

  “Um…” I tap my fingers on my textbook, thinking. “More mint chip ice cream.”

  “All right.” She smiles. “Be good.”

  With that, she turns and leaves the kitchen. Her heels click across the floor, and then I hear the garage door open and close in the distance. Resting my chin in my palm, I return to studying.

  “Grace?”

  A gentle voice brings me out of my thoughts.

  Slowly, the world falls back into place around me, dragging me out of my memories. That was the last time I saw my mother. The last words I ever said to her were “mint chip ice cream.” I never went out that night. And I never finished studying either. Two hours after she left, my father strode into the kitchen looking like his legs could barely support his weight. His face was pale and his eyes were bloodshot as he explained to me that my mother had died.

  But he was wrong.

  So wrong.

  My gaze flickers to the living room doorway where Hale stands, watching me with an uncertainty that seems out of place on his features.

  None of them know what to do with our recent discovery any more than I do. I can tell all the men are on edge, worried for me and concerned about what this new enemy to the Novak Syndicate could mean for all of us.

  “You all right?” he asks, his dark blue eyes scanning my face. I know it’s a rhetorical question, because I’m positive he already knows the answer.

  No. I’m not all right.

  None of this is all right.

  I nod anyway, and he lets out a small huff of air before striding into the room. He catches my hand and tugs me away from the window, sitting down on the couch and pulling me onto his lap. I don’t resist, straddling his hips as he pulls me close. The connection between our bodies soothes me instantly, slowing my heart even if it doesn’t manage to slow my racing mind.

  The clock on the wall ticks away steadily, the only noise that seems to fill this part of the house. It can be deadly quiet here at times, especially when the men are all hiding away doing their own things, or—as is the case right now—down in the basement with their prisoner.

  I haven’t been able to stomach the thought of going back down there. Not since I heard my mother’s name come from Leland Bennett’s cracked and bloodied lips.

  Camilla.

  Mom.

  You were supposed to be dead.

  I bite my lip, trying to force down the wave of emotions surging inside me.

  Hale reaches up, cupping the side of my face and brushing away a tear I didn’t realize had spilled over my lower lid.

  “Talk to me, Grace,” he says quietly. “Let me help you.”

  This is a side of Hale that doesn’t exist outside of these moments with me, or in small interactions with his three closest friends. There’s none of the hardness that usually fills his expression—just a soft intensity, as if he could somehow fuse our souls together if he just looked deep enough into my eyes.

  “I didn’t want to cry,” I mutter angrily. “I can’t even figure out if I should cry, or what I should be crying about. I loved my mother. I mourned her death. Or what I thought was her death anyway.”

  Hale nods, still watching me intently.

  I let out a breath, trying to organize my thoughts so that my words will make sense. “Not long after she died, Dad took me out of Chicago. We went on the run, hiding from… from you. From your father. From the Novak Syndicate. My whole life got uprooted, and I don’t
think I ever truly processed her death until we settled in Washington. That’s when it hit me that she was really gone. Over the years, my grief faded, but it was always there in the background, in little moments when I’d wish she could be there with me.”

  I think of my wedding day, of Dad telling me my mother would be proud of me, and nausea roils my stomach. After that day, I thought both of my parents were dead. I have no idea how to feel about the fact that my mother has been alive all this time.

  And not just alive.

  Working against the Novaks. Against me.

  “She was a good mother and a good wife,” I continue when Hale doesn’t speak. His hands drop down to rest on my hips as he holds me on his lap. “We were never all that close, but I always knew she loved me and my father—or so I thought. Now, I don’t know what to think. I keep picking apart every memory I have of her, but I can’t fit a criminal mastermind or murderer in there anywhere.”

  Hale’s grip on my hips tightens, a flash of pain and anger moving across his face.

  I understand it. And I can’t blame him. Because if what Leland confessed is true…

  My mother killed that dog.

  My mother tried to kill me.

  My mother gave the order to kill Hale’s father.

  A shiver runs down my spine, and I half expect Hale to push me off his lap as both of our thoughts turn to the awful night of Damian Novak’s murder.

  Why in the world is Hale still okay with me—why are any of them still okay with me? They know what my mother did, what she’s trying to do.

  And she’s my fucking flesh and blood.

  She’s been conspiring against all of us, working with Leland to try to scare me into running from the men’s protection. She’s responsible for Hale losing his dad and having to step into the role of leader of the Novak Syndicate too soon.

  So why do these men keep trusting me, keep treating me as if nothing has changed after the revelation of such earth-shattering information? Coping with the truth that she’s still alive is hard enough, but seeing that look in their eyes, as if they’re worried about what this is all doing to me, kills me.

  “I feel lost.” The words fall from my lips before I can stop them, and I’m proud that my voice sounds more steady than I feel inside. “I thought I knew what it felt like to be untethered, to feel like I couldn’t find solid ground. There’s been enough chaos and mayhem in my life over the years that I thought I was used to weathering the storm. I should’ve been prepared for this moment. But I have no idea what to do. How to feel.”

  My words die out, and only the quiet tick, tick, tick of the clock remains.

  Hale lets out a long breath, his fingers still digging into my hips a little. “I should’ve been prepared too, Grace. The moment when my father died—on paper, in my mind, I was prepared. I had been preparing my whole life, but nothing could’ve made me truly ready for that moment. You can’t blame yourself for feeling lost, because there’s no way you could have been prepared for this. None of us could have. It’s just the way things have happened and we’re dealing with it one day at a time.”

  “It’s all been a lie, though,” I say bitterly. “All of it. At least everything you knew from the moment you were born until now… at least you know that was all true. When I look at my past now, even memories from a few months ago, I’m not sure what to believe. All I see are lies.”

  The last word twists on my tongue like it’s made of poison. I shake my head, gazing into Hale’s eyes. His strong jawline has a shadow of stubble across it, and I reach up to brush my finger over the rough texture.

  “My mom never really died. All that grief we felt for her? Lies. My dad, who I always thought was open with me about everything, got himself involved in some shady shit that ended up getting him killed, and I still don’t know what that was. Did it have to do with my mother? Did he know she was alive? If he would’ve just trusted me, maybe I could have helped him.”

  “Grace…” Hale rests his forehead against mine, wrapping his arms around me, and I realize more tears have fallen without me noticing.

  “She tried to kill me,” I murmur thickly. “Brian was going to kill me on her orders.”

  That last sentence is like the final domino falling, and I break down into a heaving sob, my shoulders shaking. The betrayal feels like a massive weight bearing down on my shoulders, on my soul, and I don’t know who or what to trust in anymore.

  “Grace, look at me.”

  Hale’s voice is solid and firm, an anchor in the tempest of my thoughts. He wraps a hand around my hair and tugs gently, pulling my face away from his just enough to meet my gaze.

  My wild, hurt eyes meet his own calm and steady ones as a shuddery breath escapes me.

  “What we share isn’t a lie,” he says softly. “It wasn’t all a lie, your past. You want me to name a few things?” A tiny smile curves his lips, and even that small movement transforms his features, making him look impossibly more handsome. “The friendship we all had growing up, that was real. Even though we were just kids at the time and we didn’t know shit, none of that was fake.”

  I chuckle, although it comes out as a half-sob. “We really didn’t know anything, did we?”

  “No.” He smiles, cradling my face in his hands. “We were idiots. Still are, sometimes. I’ve fucked shit up, Grace. I’ve hurt you when I should’ve protected you, pushed you away when I should’ve held you close. But under it all, always…” One large hand leaves my face, trailing down to rest on my upper chest, just above where my heart beats. “I knew. I knew that you meant more to me than any other woman ever had. That’s real. And it will never change.”

  I let out another shuddery breath, and Hale breathes with me, his hand still resting lightly on my chest.

  His words flow through my body like the antidote to a poison that’s been eating away at me, and I’m suddenly so fucking thankful for everything that’s happened between us in the past month. It took time to come to terms with it, and I’m still not fully there yet, but I can’t deny that he’s right. What we have is real.

  And I can’t even imagine what it would have been like to find out the truth about my mother—because I would have, eventually—without these four men here to support me. Without moments like these.

  “You know what else?” Hale murmurs, watching me closely as he speaks. “What exists between you, Zaid, Lucas, and Ciro. That’s real too.” His thumb brushes against my jaw, wiping away the tears. “We won’t betray you like your mother did, I swear it on my life.”

  His acknowledgement of my relationship with the other three men sends a new rush of emotions through me, and I don’t hesitate or second-guess myself as my body reacts to his words.

  I just lean in and kiss him.

  Hale responds immediately, and the feel of his full lips against mine is everything I need in this moment. Our kiss softens and deepens, and my fingers thread through his hair as I lose myself in it.

  It’s not a kiss of anger or pain, of desperation or pure, wild lust.

  Well, it is laced with all of those things. But it’s filled with something else too. Something deeper and stronger than all of those emotions. Something I don’t dare speak out loud yet, although I’m starting to feel it with every fiber of my being.

  His hands slide down my body to my hips again, but he holds me gently, tenderly, kissing me slowly and deeply. All the tension and heaviness leaves me with one exhale that he catches between his lips. He pulls me a little closer, and even though we’re not building toward sex, I grind against him as I weave my hands around the back of his neck.

  When his hands move down to palm my ass, rocking me harder against him, I know it’s time to stop.

  Now isn’t the time for this.

  I’m done with holding myself back from what I want, from what feels right.

  I’m growing to accept that I have feelings for all four of these men, and that they have feelings for me. But I also know there’s a man being tortured in t
he basement, and that the two of us need to get back down there and see if Ciro has gotten any more information out of him.

  I break away from Hale, and we both groan quietly. His hands linger on my body, fingertips flexing against the flesh of my ass.

  “We should probably get back downstairs,” I murmur, dropping my head to inhale the warm skin of his neck. He smells like cloves and masculine musk. Like whiskey and leather. Like Hale.

  “Yeah.” He sighs. “We should. Are you ready?”

  No.

  I’m not ready. I don’t know if I ever will be. But ignoring the truth won’t change it, and the only way we’re all going to get out of this alive is if we arm ourselves with as much knowledge as possible about our new enemy.

  Drawing back, I nod. “Yes.”

  2

  Zaid

  We’ve been working on Leland for ten hours now, and even though he’s slowly breaking, I can sense Ciro growing impatient with the fucker. Knowing what Camilla’s capable of gives us all a sense of urgency. And we also know that if Leland is gone for too long without communicating with her, she’ll grow suspicious. Which means we don’t have a lot of time.

  It also means we need to be careful not to fuck him up too obviously. Well, not any more than Ciro already has anyway.

  My gaze jerks up at the sound of the door opening behind me, followed by Grace and Hale. He leads her in with a brush of his hand against her lower back, and the smallest twinge of jealousy flares inside of me. I push it aside.