Page 2 of Brutal Queen

I wake up every day in the arms of men who mourn him just as keenly as I do. There’s something reassuring in that. To know that I’m not alone in my despair. It makes me realise that I can never leave them alone in theirs.

We need each other.

The day after he died, they found me curled up in Enzo’s bed, hugging his pillow while I sobbed uncontrollably. They didn’t say a word, simply climbed in next to me and held me while I wept. Benny curled up behind me with Nico next to him, reaching over us both and pulling us into his warmth. Sinclair on the other side, stroked my hair and feathered gentlekisses across my forehead until there were no more tears left to cry.

We sleep here every night, immersing ourselves in the last vestiges of Enzo’s memory. It’s probably the least healthy thing we could do, but I don’t care. Every reminder of Enzo is a hot coal that fuels the fire of my rage. A blazing inferno that will not only raze the De Luca family to the ground but also deliver my vengeance.

Max De Luca will pay. Anyone who stands with him stands against us. I won’t mourn the deaths of his disciples when I slaughter them. I will take pleasure in meting out retribution. They’re merely rungs on a ladder that will get me one step closer to becoming a widow.

“I know you’re awake, hummingbird,” Sinclair says a second before his lips press against my cheek. “We can plan how we fuck with Max later when the capos get here. Right now I need you to switch your brain off.”

“What Sin said,” comes Benny’s familiar lilt from behind me, his breath dancing across the shell of my ear.

It’s been six weeks since Enzo died and in that time, we’ve become closer than I ever thought possible. It’s not simply that we share a common goal to destroy Max, we share a burden that we’ll never free ourselves of. We all carry a burden of guilt as a result of Enzo’s sacrifice, and there’s an intimacy in that which binds us together irrevocably.

The only solace we find is in each other’s arms.

I tilt my head, burrowing into the familiar crook of Sin’s neck, inhaling his scent and letting it wash over me like a cleansing balm. The heavy weight of Nico’s arm bands across both Benny and I, and as our movements stir his sleep, his palm grips my hip firmly.

This moment is my favourite part of my day—waking up in a naked tangle. Bathing in the affection and unconditional support that will get me through another twenty-four hours. They’ll give me the strength to become what I need to destroy Max, but they’ll also ground me enough to stop me going too far.

Although ‘too far’ is relative.

Nico is still mad that I went out without him yesterday to interrogate some of Max’s low-level grunts. He’s even less impressed that I had some fun without him and ended up sending a few souvenirs to Max. It was only a few ears and the odd limb. It’s not like I needed his help gift-wrappingthem.

Although from Max’s response, it doesn’t sound like my love of picking off his minions is going down too well. We got word yesterday that he sent a crew to my late father’s house and burnt it to the ground. Thankfully, we’d already cleaned it out a few weeks back, grabbing any documentation we needed to keep the businesses ticking over. After all, starting a war with a power-crazed psychopath needs financing… I’m not a fucking idiot. It’s going to take time to get to Max. He’s been holed up for weeks, hiding behind his capos since the day he took control.

“She’s not listening, Sin. Her thoughts are so loud I can practically hear them from here,” mumbles Nico. I can tell from the low timbre and gravelly sound of his voice that he’s not fully awake yet.

Sin tips my chin up and holds my gaze, staring into my soul and seeing me in a way that almost makes me nervous. After so many years of being alone in my torment, it sometimes feels foolish to trust these men so implicitly, but I have no other option. I haven’t been able to find the words to say it yet, but I love them.

Loro sono miei e io sono loro.

Sinclair runs his fingers delicately down the slope of my neck, and a tingle chases across my skin like it’s eager to catch up with the warmth of his touch. Gripping my shoulder, he turns me gently to face Benny, and I can’t help the joy that blossoms across my face when I’m met with his broad grin. The way his happiness can light me up from the inside never ceases to amaze me.

He’s my joy.

I thought I’d stolen his smile when my careless words broke his spirit. I blamed him, told him I’d never forgive him for blowing the building with Enzo still inside. I’ve apologised a thousand times over, but I know I hurt him.

I lift my hand to cup his cheeks, stroking my thumb across his sinfully pouty lips.

“Morning,mia reginetta,” Benny says. It shouldn’t affect me the way it does, but when I hear those words, my heart races and my pussy clenches. Outside these four walls, I’m the Bianchi don and his queen, but when I’m naked before him, I’m his whore. “Looks like you need to start doing as you’re told before you wake the beast.”

I shake my head, moving my hand and ruffling Nico’s hair, deliberately provoking him. “Nico isn’t a beast.”

Nico stretches behind Benny, like a lion rousing from the tangle of his pride. I can’t help but giggle when a dark glare emerges over Benny’s shoulder since it’s framed by his unruly morning mane. Tufts of blond hair stick out at odd angles and make him look adorable when he’s shooting for dark and brooding.

“Sei il nostro mostro,” I say before biting down on my bottom lip while his eyes flare and a low growl rumbles through his chest. Our monster is awake, and he’s ravenous.

“I’ll show you monstrous, phoenix,” he says before reaching for Benny, grasping his chaotic locks, and yanking his head back to steal a savage kiss. Breaking away suddenly he says, “I want your tongue in her pussy and her dripping by the time I get back, Bambi.”

“Where are you going?” I whine as he starts shuffling off his side of the bed.

“I’ll be right back,” Nico says with a smile that makes the corners of his eyes crease in a devious expression.

I’m just about to object when strong hands grip me around my waist and haul me up the bed. Sinclair leans back against the headboard and settles me between his thighs. He nuzzles into the crook of my neck, his breath delicately featheringacross my skin, triggering a flurry of goosebumps and making my mouth water.

Sin’s hands travel up the curve of my waist and wind around my biceps, gripping tight, then snatching me back to his chest as his feet hook under my ankles and he spreads me wide. The sudden stretch takes me by surprise while also bringing a broad smile to my face. Benedict sits up and crawls between my legs, kneeling while he runs a hand across his chest before dipping it down to stroke along his shaft.

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