Enrage

By Rachel Van Dyken

The next book in the international bestselling Eagle Elite Series. Complete Stand Alone.

Part of a world I loathe.
Part of a family who hates me more than I hate myself.
Living with a girl who reminds me of my darkness.
I'm. In. Hell.
Also known as the Cosa Nostra.
I wish I would have known--that my life was over the minute I stepped off the plane.
Son to a murdered mob boss.
Heir to a throne of murder and lies.
My name is Dante Nicolasi.
And there will be blood.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rachel Van Dyken
• Release date: Jul 31, 2017
• ISBN: 9780997145137

Rachel Van Dyken

A master of lighthearted love stories, Rachel Van Dyken is the author of several novels that have appeared on national bestseller lists, including the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, and USA Today. A devoted lover of Starbucks, Swedish Fish, and The Bachelor, Rachel lives in Idaho with her husband, son, and two boxers. Follow her writing journey at www.RachelVanDykenAuthor.com and www.facebook.com/rachelvandyken.

Book preview

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Dedication

Enrage

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-Two

Chapter Fifty-Three

Chapter Fifty-Four

Chapter Fifty-Five

Chapter Fifty-Six

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Chapter Sixty

Chapter Sixty-One

Chapter Sixty-Two

Chapter Sixty-Three

Chapter Sixty-Four

Chapter Sixty-Five

Chapter Sixty-Six

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Epilogue

About The Author

Also By Rachel Van Dyken

Dedicated to the readers who will most likely hunt me down…

love you guys!

ENRAGE

Verb: To anger, incense, infuriate, madden — to make very angry, i.e.; the man was enraged at his family for taking everything — and offering nothing but death. He lived his rage, he fed his rage, and in the end, the man fell in love with the rage, because that is what’s done when you feed the beast.

It grows.

PROLOGUE

Dante

THE FAMILIAR SMELL of blood invaded my nostrils as it ran down my wrists, its hot wetness fueling the anger inside.

Again, Nixon screamed, his eyes flashed with fury, and blood caked his face. Do it again.

So I did.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Finish him, a cold voice commanded.

Give me one good reason why I should. I didn’t recognize my own voice; it might as well have been a stranger talking for me.

I’ll give you the only reason. A gun was held in front of my face — pointed directly at her. Now finish him.

CHAPTER ONE

Dante

GET THE HELL away from me. I could barely control the rage as it made my body shake. Blood dripped from my lip as I held an ice pack to my face. Everything hurt. I’d only been in Chicago a few months and in that time, I’d learned one thing.

Nixon Abandonato was trying to kill me.

He told me so every day.

And every night when I went to sleep — I had images of all of the men who’d made similar threats — men I’d silenced with my fists.

Nixon wasn’t one of those men. He was too damn fast, calculating in every jab. Hell, even my liver hurt.

The bastard had me boxing blindfolded.

And when he still wasn’t satisfied, he asked the capo to rough me up… he even said please. The rest of the bosses watched while my hands were literally tied behind my back and the guy sank his fist into my stomach.

No. The voice was small, pretty. I would have thought she was pretty if I didn’t know who she was or what she was about. When she’d first come to us, we’d all assumed she was older, the way her ex dressed her and covered her with makeup you’d think she was at least twenty-four, not so near my age. It was easier then, to ignore her, thinking she was this used, pitiful woman.

A year younger than me, and already she was hard. It was the way she looked at a man — like I was the cause of all of her pain.

She took a step forward. You’re injured, I think I have some arnica that I gave the boys when they were—

I burst out laughing — it was an ugly sound — and more blood spewed from my mouth. Fucking arnica is going to fix this shit? I lifted up my shirt, there wasn’t an inch of skin that wasn’t marred with blue, black, or my personal favorite, green, I don’t know how the hell the guys accomplished it, but they had officially turned my body into something I didn’t recognize.

My mind was all I had left.

Which was why they kept beating me.

It was my fault.

I’d begged Sergio, my twin’s scary as hell husband, and an assassin, for proper training.

What I didn’t get when I’d asked was that training actually meant that they would bring me as close to death as possible and then give me just enough food, water, and rest to heal, only to do it again.

I spent an entire week in a dungeon-like room, damn near starving to death. And one of the guys, it was usually Chase, would walk by and drop one Cheetos through the bars, smile, and walk off.

I wasn’t sure whom I hated most.

Sergio for trying to break my spirit.

Nixon for trying to break my body with his fists.

Phoenix for trying to slit my throat with a knife.

Chase for torturing me until I wanted to die.

Mil for shooting me at point blank range and then asking me to stop my own bleeding.

Tex for tying me up and pulling me behind his car.

Or Frank, for breaking two of my fingers and then laughing.

If that was how the mafia trained someone they actually liked, then I hated to think about what they would do to their enemy.

I fought for sleep that didn’t come, and prayed that since the next day was Saturday they’d give me time to sleep rather than pulling me out of my REM cycle only to torture me again.

Five minutes.

Six.

I relaxed.

When minute seven came…

The door opened.

Wake up, buttercup. Chase’s voice sounded so pleased that I almost grabbed my gun and pointed it at his face. It’s time to train!

No.

Minute eight, the lights flicked on

Minute nine, and I was on my ass on the ground getting a knee pressed against my chest while Chase’s hands wrapped around my throat. I’ll give you one chance to change your answer.

The hell is wrong with you! I croaked trying to shove his heavy body away.

He shrugged; an easy smile hit his lips. Haven’t had sex in two days, lucky you.

Why, you gonna screw me? I taunted.

His fist flew across my right cheek as he heaved me to a sitting position. No fighting back.

That was one of the rules.

Unless they asked me to.

Which meant I got the shit beat out of me ninety-nine percent of the time.

You’re not funny. His blue eyes flashed. Meet me in the basement, you have two minutes. If you’re late, I play Russian roulette with my favorite pistol.

Last time you missed.

Last time you were early. He grunted and stomped off.

CHAPTER TWO

El

I PRETENDED TO be asleep.

I always pretended to be asleep.

It was what I did.

I told myself that if my eyes were closed, I was safe, hidden, away from everything in the world that told me otherwise.

My breath hitched in my throat as another wave of crushing anxiety washed over me.

Bad enough that I was under the protection of the Sicilian Mafia after being taken from the Russians.

What was worse?

I honestly think that the Sicilians liked all the violence, the house nearly buzzed with unleashed excitement over the last few weeks — when they were training Him.

I didn’t say his name.

Never looked in his direction.

Because the one time I looked into his icy cold gaze — I felt something shift in me, something that told me that maybe I wasn’t as dead inside as I thought I was.

And I needed to stay dead.

Numb.

I squeezed my eyes harder as the sound of running water filled the room and finally sneaked a peek when light from the Jack and Jill bathroom slithered across my floor, kissing the white duvet with its brightness, making me plaster my body back against the mattress even more.

Why? Why hadn’t they let me stay in New York? I’d helped take care of my ex’s kids, protected them from his fists — they got to stay with a new family while I was basically cast out. Like I was just as bad as he’d been. Like I was this shameful secret.

Another loud noise as my body froze.

Shit. Dante cursed and then something shattered beneath him, I wasn’t sure if it was because he tripped or because he actually liked watching himself bleed all over the white porcelain.

I sucked a few tears in.

I hated the loud noises.

The rustling around that told me he was getting ready to go back into the training rooms with one or all of the guys.

To them, he was being groomed for Italian royalty.

To me?

They were feeding the monster.

Making it bigger.

Without even realizing that he was big enough.

Strong enough.

Scary enough.

I flinched when the light shut off. A door opened and closed, footsteps neared my door.

This was it.

I knew it was only a matter of time before he saw what every other man did when he looked at me.

An opportunity.

I prayed and bit down onto my fist to keep from screaming when the door cracked open.

Please, God no more. No more.

My bruises had healed on the outside — but on the inside, I might as well be bruised, beaten, bloody beyond all recognition.

My emotional bleeding wouldn’t stop until my heart stopped beating, and some days, I wished it would.

Just.

Stop.

The door clicked shut again.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

Safe.

But for how long?

How long until I had to somehow earn my keep? Like I did with Xavier Petrov? How long before they started beating me like he did? How long before they saw my pretty face and body and decided that I needed to show my own loyalty to the same family I ran away from?

My alarm sounded next to my bed sending me sailing to the floor in a giant heap of blankets.

I yelped.

The door burst open.

Dante gave me one look and sneered. Can you try to keep it down? Some of us have to be up earlier than others.

I didn’t respond.

But I did flip him off in my head and say a whole bunch of other things that would probably get me beaten if I whispered them out loud.

He slammed the door behind him.

And I relaxed as much as I possibly could against the cold wood floor while I stared out at the early Chicago sunrise.

They’d freed me from a prison.

Only to put me in another.

Because no matter how pretty the walls were.

They were still made to hold me in.

When all I wanted, all I’d ever wanted. Was to be free.

CHAPTER THREE

Dante

IF LIVING WITH the Italian Mafia was Hell.

Being forced to attend Eagle Elite University — was the seventh circle.

My purgatory.

My punishment for being born in the right family at the wrong time.

When I’d first moved to Chicago to train with the five families, when I made the promise to my dead father Luca Nicolasi that I’d try — that I’d see how I fit in this world, I never imagined it would hurt so damn much.

Or that it would feed my hate beyond recognition, blinding me to the person I saw in my own reflection.

The Dante Nicolasi that got off the plane six months ago was gone.

And a part of me hated them for that, hated them for squashing that final piece of innocence I’d held on to with a deathlike grip.

Every one of the bosses were brutal, each of them with their own expertise and dealings, each of them with their own shiny houses, shiny wives, cars, and money.

They owned the world.

And the world knew it.

I stared down at the iron gates.

Eagle Elite University.

Owned by the Abandonatos.

Run by.

No one.

That was the catch.

Italian royalty no longer needed to attend the school. The only reason for it in the beginning had been to gain intel on other families and now that all the families were playing nice, it wasn’t necessary.

Until I showed up.

Until it was very apparent that since the five families had withdrawn themselves from the school — that new people were forced to rise up, to lead.

It didn’t matter that the money was still coming from the same place.

What mattered was that the presence.

The figurehead.

Was gone.

The Elect, or so they were called — were gone.

And that left.

Me.

Fuck.

I ran my hands through my hair, blood still caked my knuckles. I was showing up on the first day of school looking like I’d literally been run over by a truck.

Maybe that was why Chase had been so relentless.

He wanted people to know I was a scary son of a bitch.

He wanted people to know that even though I was blood — they wouldn’t hesitate in killing me.

Beating me.

Shooting at me.

I was fucking limping by the time I made it through the second iron gate. It slammed behind me with such finality that I almost puked.

Prison.

I was in prison.

My life was not my own.

It never was.

The chess master had moved his piece.

Remember, Chase said before he landed another blow to my left cheek. Peace is always more dangerous than war.

I dodged his punch and side-stepped him, bringing my elbow down on his back as he collapsed onto the cement floor. Nice shot.

Thanks. I kicked him in the ribs.

He grabbed my leg and tripped me against the concrete, then pulled me to my side, trapping me in an arm bar. In war you know your enemy.

I jerked against him.

In peace. He released me before my arm snapped out of its socket. You know absolute shit. He stood and offered me his hand. It could be a teacher, a hot girl, a friend, the janitor for shit’s sake. I grabbed the outstretched towel. And in my experience, it’s usually all of the above, the ones closest to you are the ones that you need to worry about, so when people ask to be your friend, you offer to gut them — when a teacher gives you an odd look you stare him back down, you answer to no one, got it?

Got it, I snapped.

And Dante?

What? Blood poured from my nose from his sucker punch as my eyes started to water, a burning sensation pulsed between my eyes… Son of a bitch!

Always watch your back. He grinned.

My nose still ached every time I tried to take a soothing breath.

The guys joked that I was too good looking — that it would do me good to get roughed up a bit.

Show no weakness, I mumbled to myself as I forced my body to walk in a normal slow cadence that didn’t reveal a hint of a limp. I held my head high.

My gait slow, steady.

As I made it past the final gate and looked up at the sign.

Welcome new students!

I’m going to set that sign on fire, I muttered under my breath.

Get in line, a deep voice said behind me.

I rolled my eyes and turned. Still creepy as always, Sergio.

He held out his hand. I hesitated than shook it. I hated him for taking my sister from me, for making her his wife, for making the perfect family.

For getting her pregnant.

For making life in the mafia look normal when it took my father away from me before I ever really knew him.

When it made me into the monster I always knew I was.

Did you need something? My voice was on edge just like my body.

Sergio gave me a cruel smile that didn’t reach his eyes, his gaze swept over me once, twice before he held out a backpack. You forgot your lunch.

I rolled my eyes. Let me guess, peanut butter and jelly? I jerked the black backpack away from him and glared.

He smirked. Thought you were allergic to peanut butter.

Exactly.

His smile fell as he stepped toward me. If I wanted you dead — you’d be dead.

So far, best first day of school… ever, I said in a mocking tone. Will that be all… Dad? Or did you need something else?

It pissed him off when I commented on his age.

Even though he was thirty and the rest of the guys were in their mid-twenties, it still made his eyes flash like he wanted to pick a fight.

But that was the thing about Sergio; he only used his fists when he had to. No, his warfare took place either on a computer or with his mind games.

Just make sure you actually go to class.

I can’t believe this, I grumbled. Anything else?

He glanced over my head then back at me. Make sure she stays out of trouble too.

And there it was.

Seventh circle of hell? Check.

Sergio Abandonato asking me to do the impossible. Double check.

No! I barked. "Trust me she can take care of herself."

He glared. Just because her physical wounds have healed doesn’t mean—

It doesn’t mean what? That she’s all better now? I refused to turn around, to see her pretty eyes and the sway of her hips. "We know nothing about her except Frank decided to save her and now she’s living with us. You were stupid enough to invite the enemy in the gates, so don’t ask me to watch out for your damn mistake!"

His eyes widened and then he let out a low chuckle. I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so irritated that you just shoved me in the chest. His nostrils flared. Twice.

I hadn’t even realized I’d done it.

We keep our enemies close. He shrugged. And since I can’t find out anything about her save the fact that the Petrov family raped and abused her beyond recognition— My chest burned. —she stays.

Fine, I snapped. But I’m not going to hold her hand.

Something you need to get off your chest? His smile was cruel. Because if a girl half your size is really that intimidating…

Hilarious. Don’t you have somewhere to be? A person to torture? Maim? Kill? Lives to destroy? Puppies to kick?

He snorted. Your job is to get an education and show everyone in this damn university that the families are united, strong, watching every move — prove to those who hold the power that we only let them take it back for a few years. Think you can do that without getting into detention on the first day, sport?

Did you just call me, sport? My jaw popped, my body pulsed with the need to punch him in his smug face and reach for the gun I knew was strapped to his back barely hidden by the black leather jacket he was wearing.

Good talk. He patted me on the back. Oh, and your sister wants you to come to dinner tonight.

Tell her I have homework.

Tell her yourself. He put his sunglasses back on and started walking away. See you at seven!

I growled in response just as a few laughing students walked by me, only to immediately do a double take and start whispering.

Not only did I glare at each one of them, slowly making sure they knew from the way I stared that I’d not only measured them but found them wanting, but I pulled a knife out of my pocket, flicked it out letting the sunlight catch it, then shoved it in my backpack, all before sending one last look over my shoulder that said, yeah I’d stab you first, ask questions later.

Let the games begin, I mumbled when they hurried off and all immediately began texting on their phones.

CHAPTER FOUR

El

PEOPLE WERE STARING.

I’d attended school for three months last year.

Three months of torture.

I rode with Dante every day.

And every day the door slammed in my face before I could get out of the car, let alone say, Hey, could you keep it open?

I wasn’t allowed to drive.

See? Prison.

Everyone seemed so… happy around me, like they were just waiting to finish college so they could be unleashed upon the world.

Like the world was waiting for them to finish so it could show them its greatness.

But all I knew was pain.

Darkness.

Running.

So when girls screamed around me, when they danced and joked, took selfies in the stupid quad, and then stared at me like I was an alien — I looked away, and tried to blend in with the trees.

And when that didn’t work…

I just… looked down at my feet and watched where I was going.

I was living an absolute nightmare, surrounded by complete strangers who knew nothing about me and an adopted family who only took me in because they had an ounce of humanity and knew that if they didn’t, I’d most likely be killed for what I knew.

Flashes of crowns invaded my vision as I stopped walking.

And the stars.

Always the stars, written in ink, written in blood across marred skin, across my own. I tugged the sleeve of my white oxford shirt down and sighed as a stinging spread down my veins.

I was safe.

Safe.

Safe.

Safe.

Nobody knew who I really was here — they never would.

And he was dead.

The monster who had touched me was dead.

If only the saying wasn’t true — where you cut off one head — two often appear and I knew better than anyone that the monster I’d shared a bed with was a mere taste of what the Petrov family stood for.

I started walking again, even though bile rose up in my mouth and threatened to make me puke all over the sidewalk; I kept my head down, I kept myself small.

I focused on the cracks in the cement as I slowly made my way toward the business building.

And stopped when two boots moved in my line of vision.

I moved to the right, the boots followed.

I went left. Same thing.

Finally, I lifted my head and locked gazes with ice blue, ice that burned and froze all at once, ice blue that did nothing to hide the hatred, the anger, the barely controlled rage — all directed at me.

I lifted my chin.

El. Dante spat my name more than said it, and slowly wrapped an arm around me. His muscles flexed like he was pissed he had to touch someone so… tarnished. Walk with me.

People were staring.

Probably more at him than me.

He was a god among men.

A man among silly boys who were still growing into their bodies.

Dante Nicolasi was easily the most beautiful and horrible person I’d ever met in my entire life. Looking at him was physically painful and touching him — well he’d never touched me until today.

Which meant he was either going to kill me or he was using me for something.

My body shuddered both with the need to get closer and the need to fight for my life and run.

Was this how it was going to happen?

Without the protection of the Family back at the house?

With Dante by my side?

Would he snap my neck?

Inject something into my skin?

Throw me off a building?

Or just beat me into submission?

And why didn’t anyone else notice the way his rage was barely kept in check? Even during family dinners he looked ready to throw a knife at someone.

Dante wasn’t just angry.

He was anger itself.

And part of me wondered if that was all he knew.

Just like all I’d known was fear.

By the time we reached the building, I was shaking. Did you need something? My voice came out smooth, indifferent, cold.

He barked out a laugh, his nose colliding with my neck before he whispered in my ear. I need you as a human shield.

I swallowed back the ache in my throat. So Italian royalty lives, and the Russian whore dies?

It was out before I could stop it.

Dante didn’t as much as flinch

Reviews for Enrage

[pelusa41-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

We have a new couple El and Dante, and I love them, and they went thru a lot, especially poor El, but she is a survivor and now she has a hottie by her side, good for her. We have are awesome family, my Nixon, awesome as always, and the rest of the crew that show there loyalty. And then we have poor Chase, that part is heartbreaking, but I am confident that he will find his soulmate. I know I am in the minority, but I was never crazy of Mil, or actually of there relationship, I didn't see the chemistry like Nixon and Trace, but again that's me..

[nelispelusa · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

We have a new couple El and Dante, and I love them, and they went thru a lot, especially poor El, but she is a survivor and now she has a hottie by her side, good for her. We have are awesome family, my Nixon, awesome as always, and the rest of the crew that show there loyalty. And then we have poor Chase, that part is heartbreaking, but I am confident that he will find his soulmate. I know I am in the minority, but I was never crazy of Mil, or actually of there relationship, I didn't see the chemistry like Nixon and Trace, but again that's me..