Lucca
Made Men, #4
Sarah Brianne
Contents
Prologue
1. Mine
2. If Salvation Is What You Seek, Violence Is Not the Answer
3. The Being Behind the Door
4. If I Catch You, I Won’t Be Able to Stop Myself
5. This Is Going to End in War
6. Playing With Fire
7. Hey, Darlin’
8. The Nightmares That Reaped Her Soul
9. I’d Hate to Have to Punish You, Darlin’
10. Sold Her Soul to the Boogieman
11. Always
12. The Freak and the Boogieman
13. Good Night
14. Not Even God Could Save a Man Who Lays His Hands on You
15. The Monstrous Name
16. From the Worst to the Best Types of People
17. Is Today the Day You Want to Die?
18. Sure to Make Any Girl Succumb to Him Then and There
19. The Word She Would Soon Regret
20. The Calm Before the Storm
21. Her Body Had Been Claimed by the Boogieman
22. This Was It; The Time Had Come
23. We Only See What We Want to See
24. The Most Beautiful Prison
25. Everything Came at a Price
26. Hovering His Fingertips Over the Top of the Scar
27. His Dreams of Fulfilling His Darkest Need Would Have to Suffice
28. Only Time Will Tell
29. I’m Coming, Chloe
30. The Death of Amo
31. A Nightmare That Will Have You Begging Me Not to Wake You Up
32. How Beautiful It Is. How Painful It Can Be.
33. Praying to the God He Didn’t Believe Existed That She Was Still Alive
34. Allowing Monsters Like Him to Roam This Earth
35. Only Be Touched by Lucca
36. As He Took the Sight of the Other
37. This Time Felt Different, More … Final.
38. Pressing Play
39. A Living, Breathing Nightmare
40. Death Would Follow
41. The Darkness in Its True Form
42. A Power That Went Beyond This World or Any Other
43. A Soul That Could Only Be Returned to Her by Him
44. As Ye Sow, So Shall Ye Reap.
45. Not Even in Death
46. A Taste of You … Is Worth a Lifetime in Hell.
47. Reborn
48. This is Your Final Purpose
49. Off into the Beautiful, Dark Abyss
50. The Chains That Held Their Souls
Chained
A.E. Fisher
Hunter
Prologue
1. Hunter
2. Mallory
Young Ink Press Publication
YoungInkPress.com
Copyright © 2017 by Sarah Brianne
Edited by C&D Editing and Diamond in the Rough Editing
Cover Art by Young Ink Press
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. All sexually active characters portrayed in this ebook are eighteen years of age or older. Please do not buy if sexual situations, violence, drugs, child abuse, and explicit language offends you.
Connect with Sarah,
[email protected]
www.facebook.com/AuthorSarahBrianne
@AuthorSarahBri
Prologue
The Story Behind the Scar, a Story of Sadness, Grief, and Torture
Seven months ago in January…
Pulling his classic black Cadillac onto the side of the street, he positioned himself to watch the house. Then he looked at the clock, seeing he had timed it perfectly.
School’s out.
He flipped his lighter open and closed, open and closed, waiting for her return. Lucca had never been good at sitting still, nor was he a very patient man when he was tired. The night before had been a long one, and his body still felt it. Regardless, he had enjoyed every second of it.
Last night, he had lain Mr. Johnson to rest and held up his promise of fucking the blonde until she regretted it. Both things had satiated his dark side … for now, anyway.
Lucca flipped his lighter closed as a stuck-up BMW pulled into the driveway. He had never trusted a German car. The only thing good about it was its black paint color.
A strawberry blonde exited the car. Elle Buchanan. He couldn’t help his sneer. His little brother was in big fucking trouble.
Watching her walk to the front door, he believed the girl only got prettier the more you looked at her.
It’s going to be a shame when I have to strangle the life out of her.
One thing was for sure, the girl was going to die, and nothing could save her. It was unfortunate she had been there when the trigger had been pulled, but some girls were just born unlucky; this one in particular. She only had another month to her eighteenth birthday, and then … the end.
The stuck-up-looking car reversed, drawing his attention back to it. He wondered who would drop off a girl in this neighborhood, driving that car. Truthfully, he was a little shocked this was the address, considering the girl had come from a prep school.
His gut told him to follow the car. Anyone Elle hung out with could possibly be collateral damage if her fucking mouth blabbed too much.
Looking at the clock again, he noticed there was a bit of time before Elle left for work, so he started his car, deciding to follow the BMW.
He kept a good distance from it, following in a direction he hadn’t been expecting. This part of town was mostly owned by the city, along with some expensive restaurants and shops.
Watching the car pull into one of the most expensive shops in town, he parked on the street and pulled out his cell phone, texting the license plate number to a friend. Then he waited in anticipation, curiosity slowly eating away at him, only growing worse when the car door opened.
He immediately knew it was a woman when tall, black boots and black jeans hit the ground. The next thing he noticed was her long, silky hair. It was the blackest hair he had ever seen.
He desperately wanted a glimpse of her face, but she never turned around. Therefore, Lucca found himself turning off the car and getting out, wondering how this felt more important than anything else he could do with his time.
His instincts kept him going, following her into the store.
Lucca prided himself on being able to go unnoticed. His appearance of dark jeans, black shirts, and black sweatshirts allowed him to do just that, plus his scruffy face and hair. He could go places no one in the family could. Made men demanded attention with their suits and immaculate grooming, whereas he didn’t need that kind of attention. I have other ways to get the attention I demand.
Entering the store undetected was easy with all the expensive shit it held. He navigated the store, finding the girl in all black who seemed to be looking for a particular piece. A slight glimpse of the left side of her face revealed her soft porcelain skin. He stalked closer.
Have I seen her before?
Another small glimpse revealed her young age.
Stopping, he was about to turn around—She’s too young—but then the girl turned and went back t
o a table she had already passed.
His heart stopped for a beat when he saw the whole left side of her face and a striking gray eye. The other half was covered by a veil of hair. He wished he could reach out to feel the pure black strands of silk and move it to reveal the rest of her face.
Leave now. Nothing good would come of this. He should have left the moment he had noticed she was just a teenage girl. However, though he was unable to place it yet, something about her called to him; kept him from looking away from her and leaving.
The whole thing felt so wrong, yet so right. He was being pulled in different directions. His mind told him to leave, but his body kept him patiently waiting.
Watching her hand go up to her face, he felt his breath catch when she swept her hair behind her ear.
Fuck … His heart skipped another beat at the sight of her face in its entirety.
His eyes traveled down the right side of her gorgeous face that held a scar from above her eyebrow down to the hollow of her cheek. Another one graced above and below her luscious lips.
The instinct to let his fingertips glide down each mark was so strong he thought he might break his cover.
Her gray eyes held the story behind the scar, a story of sadness, grief, and torture. It was like staring at a perfect porcelain doll that had been dropped one too many times. Others would see a flaw in the cracked doll, making her no longer perfect, but he saw only beauty.
She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.
The gold, ornate piece she was infatuated with was unfamiliar to him until she opened the egg-shaped object and music began to play. Her eyes danced as she watched a ballerina twirl to the music. He wondered what it would feel like if she looked at him that way.
“It’s a beautiful piece, isn’t it?” an older woman who looked to be the storeowner asked as she came up to her.
The girl startled, shutting the music box.
He wanted her to go back to the way she had been a moment before. He could watch her study the delicate piece with gentle hands for hours.
When her tongue peeked out to lick her lips, he eagerly waited to hear her voice.
“Y-yes.” She went back to looking at the box, avoiding the woman’s gaze. “H-how much is it?”
“Three thousand dollars.”
She removed her fingers from the piece. “Oh.”
The woman kindly smiled. “I know Christmas just passed, but you could always ask for it for your birthday, maybe. I could hold it.”
She shook her head. “Thank you, but it’s too much.”
The lady continued to smile. “Well, you could always come back if you talk your parents into it.”
“Thank you.” The girl took one last glance at the music box before she left the store.
Watching her leave was harder than he thought it would be. He wouldn’t be able to come out of the store until she pulled out. Therefore, he had to watch her go to the car through the display window, and that wasn’t close enough for him.
A vibration in his pocket had him pulling out his cell phone. He didn’t say a word when he accepted the call.
His friend Sal came over the phone. “The BMW is registered to Maxwell Masters.”
That wasn’t what he had expected, though it explained why he felt like he had seen her before.
“Girl?” Lucca spoke into the phone carefully, watching her approach the driver’s side of her BMW.
“He’s married to Elaine Maste—”
“Younger,” he cut him off.
Sal paused. “Scars?”
Lucca’s eyes traced her markings. “Yes.”
“That’s Maxwell’s daughter, Chloe Masters.”
He ended the call with the push of a button.
Time stood still for him as he soaked in anything and everything he could about her before she disappeared into the car.
There was always a moment one faced in life when a choice had to be made, and this was his.
Her tortured soul called to his dark one, whispering for him to save her. His heart was now slow and steady, finding its purpose—Chloe Masters.
Taking one last look at the scars on her face, he couldn’t wait for the day he could run his fingers across it. Beautiful.
One
Mine
Lucca sat at the desk in his home office, running his hands through his hair and trying to take deep breaths. The image of her had yet to leave his mind. His fingers still itched to trace her gorgeous markings. He wanted her, regardless of her age, and nothing is going to stop me.
He had very seldom wanted anything in his life. The first had been becoming a made man, and the second had been becoming the underboss. Both things he had accomplished at a very young age.
Being just twenty-six years old, he was the youngest underboss in the history of the Caruso family, and had become made at the age of seventeen, which was also the youngest anyone in the family had ever been made. What he had done to become made was something that would send most grown men to the psych ward, but not Lucca.
Lucca was born with a dark side. He had realized at a young age he wasn’t like the rest of the world. The only emotions he ever felt were when he caused pain. At first, it didn’t take much, just simply pinching another kid until he cried. It brought him joy and contentment. Slowly through the years, though, he needed more and more to bring those feelings back. Now, twenty-six years later, he was a full-blown monster, craving nothing but blood and chaos.
Turning on his computer, he searched the Internet, putting in the name that called to him. When an image of her popped up, his heart began to hum in his chest. It was a picture of a much younger her; the scars much fresher, bright red and unlike the faint pink he had seen today. To put it simply, they looked gruesome on her perfect porcelain face.
Zooming in, he gripped the mouse tighter, seething with pure anger. He knew all too well they were caused by a knife. The cuts were clean and precise, at a calculated depth to cause immense pain in those sensitive areas, and to scar her for life.
Whoever the fuck touched her better be dead.
Going back to the search, he looked for who had marked her, but the only thing that came up was a car wreck from three years ago. Reading the old newspaper article, he found out that her father, Maxwell Masters, was the one behind the wheel that night, and that her scars were blamed on the windshield glass breaking and hitting her in the face. Bullshit.
Lucca went back to the photo of Chloe, now zooming out to reveal her father getting sworn in as the mayor of Kansas City, Missouri. Not a single scratch was on him, confirming what he already knew.
The thirst for blood now coursed through his veins. He was going to do anything and everything to find out what had happened to her. Anyone who had anything to do with it would be buried six feet under by the time he was done.
Looking at her bitch of a father and mother, he had a feeling the list was going to be quite long. They will all die.
He went back to his search of her, wanting to learn everything he could.
Seeing a much more recent picture of her at some function, he stared at the image, his heart humming even louder, somewhat satiating his blood thirst. Fuck, he wanted her more than he had wanted to be made or become the underboss.
His gut twisted at thinking about how long he was going to have to wait for her to become eighteen. He wasn’t sure how he was going to keep himself from taking her, unused to these strong feelings. Her tortured eyes seemed to be screaming at him to save her, only making his urges worse.
Putting a cigarette to his lips, he flipped open the lid to his cold, metal lighter before burning the end and taking a long drag.
Smoking always gave him something to do and focus on when his sick, twisted urges came upon him. He only hoped it was going to help him stay away from Chloe as well.
Flipping the lid close, he placed his Zippo back on his desk before looking at the recent picture of her once more.
One single thought entered his mind.<
br />
Mine.
Two
If Salvation Is What You Seek, Violence Is Not the Answer
Lucca waited in the tiny, dark room, wondering why his feet brought him here in the first place. The only times he had come here were when he thought about his mother. However, not since his mother had died had he ever sought penance. Penance was for those seeking absolution. He wasn’t that type of man. Lucca only sought retribution.
A swiping noise had him lifting his eyes to the intricate window where hardly any light filtered through. He could see the shadow of the older man on the other side of the wall.
The thought of leaving entered his mind, but instead, words came out like it had been just yesterday since he had last spoken them. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been a long time since my last confession.”
As Lucca sat there quietly, unable to find words past that, the figure behind the wall said, “Yes, my son?”
“My mother used to make me come here to confess when I was younger, but when I joined the family, she couldn’t get me here anymore. I still remember the day I joined. She begged and pleaded with me to come here. I told her there was no saving me after what I did.
“She used to joke, saying there was a demon inside of me. That was the day she realized there really was. I’ll never forget the look in her eyes when she saw me for who I really am, when she saw nothing but pure evil.” Lucca paused for a brief moment. “Still, somehow, even up until she was murdered, she believed there was a way to save me, that somehow I could still seek salvation after all I’ve done.”
“Is that what you’re here for now? To find salvation?” The knowing voice filled the space between them.
Gray eyes stared back at him in his mind. “Yes.”
“Then you must repent, my son.”
“I’m not looking for God’s type of salvation.”
Lucca (Made Men #4) Page 1
