Page 7 of Whispers in the Dark
Chapter two
Mauro
Silence.
It’s what I crave and yearn for like a drug I can’t get enough of—a comfort to the beast within me. And in a world filled with so much darkness, it’s the only thing that seems to keep the demons at bay.
I nod to the guards on duty as I accelerate through the prominent iron gate that surrounds the Alarie Estate.
A fortress unlike any other in the world, secured by impenetrable stone walls and protected by guards on every corner.
A piece of secluded land that covers a significant portion of northern New York.
And a place that my family and I call home.
My truck easily passes through the fresh snow coating the ground as I trek through the woods, but instead of taking a right before the lake, which leads directly to my home, secludeddeep between the mountains, I bear left, heading for my eldest brother’s house.
Lowering my window, I enter a code on the keypad and wait for the gate to open before descending the stone driveway, circling the giant water fountain, and coming to a stop by the massive arched door. My brother is not one for hiding his wealth, and anyone can see that in his house, which resembles more of a castle than an everyday home, if you ask me. From its imposing size to the Portoro marble accents throughout, the structure demands attention.
Stepping into the frigid air, I shake off the snow from my hair as I take the dozen steps up and then pound on the door.
A moment later, the door swings open with Vincenzo on the other side. He drags his fingers through his dark, styled hair before crossing his burly arms across his chest. A slight grin appears as his eyes examine my attire. “You look like shit.”
I grunt and look down at myself, inspecting the spatters of blood across my white T-shirt. Blood that doesn’t belong to me but to the asshole who wronged my family. I zip my jacket, hiding evidence of my late-night adventure.
“I take it you and Leo found him, then?” he asks, his voice growing serious.
I nod and walk past him, rubbing a hand over my tired eyes. Yeah, we found him. Hiding in the back of his motel closet like the coward he is, or, I guess I should saywas. The fucker actually thought he could use the dark web to put a hit out on my family without us finding out and live to tell the tale.
His first mistake was underestimating us.
His second was making a call on his personal cellphone, which pinpointed his exact location so we could find him.
Stronzo.
But as themusclesof this family, it’s my job to destroy those who wish to harm us. And I do my job well.Verywell.
I stride through my brother’s house, walking past his dogs, Thor and Zeus, who snore loudly on their luxurious dog beds, before heading directly toward Vin’s office, where I know the others will be. Walking in, I find Alessandro, aka Alex, my older brother, sitting in one of the russet brown leather wingback chairs by the roaring fire, his brows furrowed in concentration as he stares down at his phone.
Alex is thebrains. The one with the highest IQ who uses his powers for the good of the family, always hacking into computers or doing whatever it is he does to keep us one step ahead in our world. He’s also the one you text in a panic when you spill marinara sauce onto your mother’s white carpet.
That was scary.
His grey eyes glance up, and upon seeing me, he slides his phone into his pocket. “Late night?”
I nod, collapsing into the matching chair across from him. A yawn escapes me as Vin walks in, taking his place behind his mahogany desk.
If he hadn’t called a meeting, I’d be tucking myself into bed right now and sleeping for the next three days.
But as theheadof the family, when he calls upon us, we answer. No questions asked. He acquired his leadership role over seven years ago after the murder of our father, and he’s done everything in his power over the years to keep us safe, even with daily threats and powerful enemies striving for our demise.
It’s a job I would never want.
He reaches into his desk drawer, pulls out a bottle of Macallan, uncaps it, and pours it into a few glasses. “You need a haircut,” he tells me. “And a shave. You’re starting to resemble a lumberjack.”
I flip him off and then drag my fingers through my shoulder-length hair, pulling half of it up. Unlike my brothers, who takepride in their appearance, I’ve never put too much thought into mine.
Never had a reason to.
