Page 1 of King of Obsession

BIANCA BORELL

No one is truly free. I sold my life long ago in exchange for power, thinking it would satiate my hungry soul. I was wrong. I had little choice then, considering I was an orphan in a system with only two ways out: become a nun or a whore. Neither appealed to me.

Walls surround me, trapping me inside, but we all live in cages. Mine just happens to be a gilded fortress. I live in a mansion on a vast estate—a gift for my service to the Council of Twelve.

Out the window, the spring wind blows, bending the trees to her will. Frail blooms scatter into the air before painting a blanket of dead potential on the pavement.

Sighing, I press my palm to the glass, wondering what else is out there if I could break free from this life. It’s the only one I know. When I was thirteen, Augustus Ducati came to visit the monastery and offered me a third option: to become an assassin.

Augustus is the unofficial ruler of the Council and the only person in the world I take orders from. He’s neither family nor just my boss. Our relationship has always had depth but lacked substance. By accepting his offer, I traded one prison for another, albeit a much more luxurious one. Surrounded by people with power and the means to buy countries, I came to accept that freedom is an illusion.

From my window, I watch the guards, accompanied by attack dogs, patrolling the property. I find it ironic because I’m the one they’d need protection from.

I earned my nickname—Silver Death— after completing my first assignment at sixteen. At twenty-three, my name is whispered in the underworld with reverent fear. Everyone knows that once a name is on my list, they’re dead.

I hoped that by earning money, gaining influence, and eliciting dread, I would gain access to the only information I wanted.

Where do I come from? Who were my parents?

Humans are fickle, and their loyalty always comes with a price. I don’t care about why they abandoned me. I want to find out about my roots and better understand who I am. Is this detachment from killing hereditary? Is this hunger for power innate, or is it simply a result of my upbringing?

I hate days when I am not on the hunt, when I am not busy planning hits. But I could spill all the blood in the world, and I would still be restless.

Outside, the water lashes at the edge of the pool as if wanting to escape, brewing a small storm. I have an entire mansion at my disposal with people I handpicked to take care ofmy needs, but each one of them is a reminder of my duty. Of my life not being mine.

I signed my life over for a taste of power I thought would give me freedom. Instead, it captured me forever in an hourglass—each grain of sand slowly trickling, reminding me I am just a sharp tool in the Council’s arsenal.

Heavy footsteps rouse me from my trance, and I quickly don one of my many masks, each sharing a common trait: a cool, poker face. Some perceive it as arrogance, but I call it self-confidence—a reminder of who I am: Luciana Rossi, assassin.

Turning around, I see Adamo Santino approaching. He strides into my office with the swagger of an heir eager to prove himself. It’s no secret that the Santino’s position on the Council is due to the Ferraras offering them their seat after moving to the States to start anew. I believe the Ferraras got the better end of the deal. No one leaves the Council, but they did. It would be utterly fascinating if I cared. But all I care about is finding my roots.

“Luciana,” he says, strutting toward me in a tailored three-piece suit as if he owns the place.

“Adamo, did you wake up with a death wish today?” I ask, arching a brow.

No one comes to my house without an invitation. While I may be on a leash, even the Council is wary of me. I am resourceful in my killings and easily get trigger-happy. But it’s more bark than bite. I can’t kill anyone on the Council, which is a pity.

He places a hand on his heart in faux hurt, smirking. How I’d like to wipe that conceited look off his face permanently.

“But then you would lose the chance to find out what I know.”

I scoff, doubting he possesses any information that could pique my interest. Ignoring him, I turn my attention back to the two birds chasing each other before taking a plunge into the fountain for a bath.

“I am fucking talking to you.” He grinds his teeth so hard his jaw might break.

“Get out before I lose my patience with you.” I don’t raise my voice—it’s steady and controlled as always. No one could ever rattle the walls I’ve erected around me.

“I could have made you into a woman who would be respected worldwide.”

Over my shoulder, I look dead into his eyes, and he squirms under the weight of my stare.

“I am a well-respected woman. I don’t need a man, and you would be the last I’d let in my bed.”

He leers at me for the hundredth time. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

The innuendo makes me nauseous.

“An STI?” I chuckle just to irritate him further, sure that he’ll stomp away like a wounded, spoiled kid. He’s going to tattle, and I’ll get a call from Augustus. Fragile little ego.

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