Blood Phoenix ：My Fiancé Sold Me To My Eighteen Mafia Fathers Chapter 01
Eighteen of the deadliest men in the American underworld found me on the street and raised me like their own.
Problem is, my dads wouldn’t let me near a single guy. Ever. Threats, screaming, guns drawn — the whole show. So I snapped and ran.
Three years on the outside. One wild, all-in love story.
Then the night my boyfriend proposed, he slipped something into my wine, tied me up, and hauled me right back to the Hollow.
“The bosses of Devil’s Hollow are paying a fortune for a girl with a phoenix tattoo. Lucky you. You’ve got one.”
“My sister crossed the wrong people. Trading you is the only way to save her life.”
Then, with a heartbroken look, he added:
“Don’t worry, baby. When you’re dead, I’ll bury you in the Vance family plot. I won’t let you rot out there alone.”
Watching that fake, self-righteous face, I almost burst out laughing.
Three years. Someone finally brought me home.
Julian stared at me, stunned. I smiled and snapped my fingers at the crew waiting outside the SUV.
“Boys. The hell are you standing around for?”
“Get the good wine. The rosemary. The garlic.”
“We’re. Feasting. Tonight!”
The words were still in the air when Julian’s hand shot to my throat and slammed me against the door.
“Sera, have you lost your goddamn mind?!”
My spine hit metal. Every organ inside me shifted.
Before I could get a word out, he spun around, grinning at the low-level goons outside.
“Boys, she’s out of her head. Drug talk. I got her — I’ll bring her in myself!”
Then he shoved me back into the trunk. The sedative still had me. My arms felt like lead.
From the front seat, Chloe’s whiny, poisonous voice cut through.
“Julian. You sure those Moretti psychos are gonna let me walk once we hand her over? Like — you sure?”
Julian slammed the gas, voice all soft and sweet.
“Relax, baby sis. The bosses put out top dollar. Girl with a phoenix tattoo. Sera’s got a knockoff on her arm. Perfect.”
“We hand her over. The Don cools down. You live.”
A knockoff?
I looked at the blood-red phoenix on my right arm and couldn’t help laughing.
Salvatore Moretti — Don of Devil’s Hollow, my Papa — inked that on me himself.
See the phoenix, see the Don.
And this idiot thought it was fake.
My eighteen dads have been tearing the country apart looking for me for three years. And this pair of siblings just wraps me up and delivers me to the front gate.
Julian heard me laughing and figured I’d cracked. He sighed.
“Sera. I fed you. Housed you. Three years. Never let you want for a thing.”
“Chloe’s in trouble. Time to pay me back. Trade your worthless life for the Vance family’s peace. You should feel honored.”
I laughed again. God, what a joke.
Three years ago, Julian’s business tanked. Loan sharks came for him.
I took three knife wounds for him. Carried him six miles through a thunderstorm.
He knelt outside the ER and swore on his life. Said he’d protect me till his last breath. Never let me hurt again.
And now? Chloe stirred up trouble on the outside, and he didn’t hesitate for a second. Dumped enough sedative in my drink to knock me out cold.
Packaged me up like a pig for slaughter. Delivered me as the sacrifice.
The SUV skidded to a stop.
The door flew open. Floodlights blinded me.
Chloe stood over me and drove her stiletto heel into my shin. Ground it in with everything she had.
Pain shot straight through me. I bit down hard. Didn’t make a sound.
“Aw, don’t hate me for this, Sera. Hate your shitty little life.”
Her eyes shone with vicious triumph.
“When those animals are done ripping you apart? I’ll have Julian light a candle for you. Promise.”
I stared at her fake little pout. Couldn’t even find the energy to be angry.
Trade me? To buy Devil’s Hollow’s mercy?
Five years ago, some cartel idiot yanked a single strand of hair off my head.
Papa walked into his compound alone and burned it to the ground. Uncle Vito broke every bone in the man’s body, one inch at a time, and fed him to the dogs. Uncle Rocco strung the man’s whole bloodline up at the front gate and let them dry in the sun.
My eighteen lawless dads will pull a gun over a scraped knee.
The second they figure out who’s tied up in this trunk, the Vance family won’t have a grave left to burn.
Julian shoved Chloe aside and stepped up. No guilt in his eyes. Just hunger.
He pulled out a knife and ripped the sleeve open on my right shoulder.
Cold air hit my neck. The blood-red phoenix bared to the night.
He reached out to touch my face. Voice syrupy. Condescending.
“Rest easy, Sera. I’ll bury you in the Vance family plot. Promise.”
I jerked my face away from his hand. Locked eyes with him.
Under the floodlight, I could see the half-inch scar above his left brow. Old.
He got that three years ago. Took a pipe to the head protecting me from the guys hunting him.
That scar. That’s the whole reason I put down my knives. Cooked for him. Played sweet. Played wife. For three whole years.
I stared at that scar. My voice came out ice cold.
“Julian. Last chance.”
“You really doing this? No regrets?”
He froze. Then something ugly flashed in his eyes — disgust, cruelty, all of it.
He grabbed my hair and yanked my face up to his.
“Sera, cut the theatrics!”
“Dying for Chloe is the most valuable thing you’ll ever do in your whole worthless life. And I don’t do regrets.”
The words were still hanging in the air when the ground started to shake.
A deafening roar of engines tore through the night.
A dozen armored SUVs came screaming out of nowhere and boxed us in.
Chloe screamed and collapsed on the ground.
But Julian? Julian was shaking with pure joy.
He dragged me out of the trunk, slammed me face-down in the gravel, and screamed at the top of his lungs:
“Boss! I brought her! She’s all yours!”