By Sin I Rise : Part One (Sins of the Fathers Book 1)

Gunnar and I waited in the van, smoke filling the inside. Since we’d left the clubhouse, I had smoked pretty much non-stop. Today was the day. I had to admit I was nervous like a virgin before her cherry got popped. We’d been trailing Marcella for weeks now, waiting for the perfect moment to abduct her. Unfortunately, the safety measures Vitiello had put in place for her were almost impenetrable. Earl was losing patience, but a risky maneuver would only alert Vitiello and not get us anywhere. Maybe this was our only chance. I wouldn’t mess up.

“Maybe she left through another door,” Gunnar said. His shoulder-length gray hair had fallen almost completely out of his ponytail because of his constant fretting. I’d never seen him so nervous.

“Nah,” I said. “The cars are still here. Let me check the area.”

I hopped out of the van and squashed my cigarette under my boot before I strolled along the pavement. I felt naked without my cut, but wearing anything that linked me to Tartarus would have been stupid and pretty much suicide. Even in civilian clothes, the risk of being spotted by one of Marcella’s bodyguards was still high, but I could feel it in my blood that today was the day.

Eventually, I spotted the spoiled princess. She talked to an older man in loafers and a mustard-yellow suit coat, probably a professor. I hadn’t even finished high school so I didn’t have much experience with these things but he looked like someone who spent too much time with his nose in books.

Her bodyguards kept a respectful distance but were still too close for us to grab her. We had enough ammo and guns to conquer the entire college, but we wanted to keep things as low-key as possible. We didn’t want the police on our backs. Having Vitiello and the Famiglia lighting fire under our asses was more than enough. Not to mention that Vitiello paid half the cops, so they’d probably hand us right over to him and then we’d be pulp.

I trailed Marcella at a safe distance on campus. I’d even grabbed a couple of books in the library to look my part. She studied business and marketing or pretended to do so. I bet her daddy bought her degree for her. Not that she needed a college education, she’d marry that sappy fiancé and become a trophy wife like all the mob women.

I hadn’t seen Marcella and her boy toy together in over a week, which was unusual, but today he trailed her again like a lost puppy. He didn’t know much about women if he couldn’t see how annoyed she was by his simpering begging. But his whining eventually worked and she followed him to his car for a conversation. Of course, the posh boy had a fancy Mercedes Cabriolet. The Famiglia just swam in money.

She ordered her bodyguards away and they stayed back at the stairs to the main building.

I straightened and grabbed my phone to send Gunnar a text. Keeping an eye on Marcella and her boy toy, I jogged over to the old van and got into the passenger seat where I dropped the books on the floorboard. Slowly, Gunnar steered the car toward the parking lot where Marcella and her fiancé seemed caught in an argument in front of his sleek car.

Nothing was better to drive bodyguards away than an embarrassing fight between love birds. Her bodyguards pretended not to pay attention to the fight, obviously embarrassed by the scene. Well-trained dogs, all of them. I slid my silver knuckleduster on in case Marcella’s fiancé put up more of a fight than he looked.

“Closer,” I said to Gunnar who steered the car toward Marcella.

She looked furious. Cheeks flushed, looking absolutely striking against her porcelain skin.

“Fucking Snow White,” I muttered. The Marcella from my dreams had a remarkable similarity to the angry Marcella of the present, only that her flushed cheeks had a very different reason then.

Gunnar gave me a curious look but I ignored him. Marcella shoved her fiancé’s shoulder and turned on her heel, so her hair hit him smack in the face. After a gob-smacked expression, he grabbed her arm and her bodyguards were all eyes now. We only had one chance. Soon they’d be swarming around the princess again and we’d have no chance to get near her. I shoved the door open before Gunnar had come to a stop and jumped out of the car. I stormed toward Marcella with complete tunnel vision. Her eyes hit me and her face transformed from confusion to realization then shock. Those plump lips parted for a cry. Her bodyguards began running, pulling their guns.

Gunnar jumped out of the car, raised his pump gun and fired. The sound transformed the peaceful campus into a hellhole. Screams sounded and people scattered, running for their lives.

Their panic was to our advantage. They stumbled into Marcella’s bodyguards who tried to reach us, slowing them down. I reached Marcella and her fiancé. He grabbed his gun, but I was faster and slammed my fist with the knuckleduster into his face. Blood shot out of his nose and mouth and he toppled to the ground. I didn’t have time to off him, not with all hell breaking loose. It was only a matter of minutes before dozens of Famiglia soldiers would enter the scene to protect their princess. I knew what would happen if they got their hands on me. They’d deliver me to Vitiello and what he’d done to my father would look like kid’s play in comparison to what he’d do to me for attacking his precious offspring. Not going to happen.

Nothing mattered as I finally grabbed Marcella’s arm and jerked her toward me. Her wide, shocked blue eyes hit me like a sledgehammer. Her eyes locked on mine, not afraid, only surprised. The blue of her irises were accentuated by a darker outer ring. The momentum had thrust her against my chest. A cloud of her exotic perfume, something subtly sweet but also spicy, hit me. She was even shorter than I’d thought. Even with high heels, she only reached my nose. Before she could react, I pressed the chloroform-drenched tissue over her mouth. Her eyelids drooped and she sagged against me. I hoisted her over my shoulder and ran toward the van. Gunnar was still firing at the bodyguards who didn’t have a choice but to seek cover, even if their fear of Vitiello’s wrath made them reckless. I put Marcella down on the loading area of the van before I closed the door and slid into the passenger seat. After a signal from me, Gunnar jumped in and hit the gas.

“I got one of them.”

He held out the pump gun and I took it in case I’d have to deal with pursuers. Soon the campus disappeared in the distance and Gunnar steered the car into a parking garage where we switched cars for the first time. The new van with the laundry logo belonged to a family member of one of the old ladies. I doubted Earl had told them what we’d use it for. He didn’t care if Vitiello got their hands on them, as long as our plan worked out. Unimportant collateral damage.

Marcella didn’t stir when I carried her from one car to the other.

After thirty more minutes, when I was fairly sure that we weren’t being followed, I set the pump gun down onto the floorboard. Snow White was slowly coming to herself, groaning and moaning in a way that reminded me of last night’s dream. I twisted around in the seat to watch her. The dose I’d hit her with hadn’t been very potent. Her black lashes fluttered against her pale skin. I’d been almost one-hundred percent sure that her photos had been photoshopped heavily, but now from close up, I realized Marcella Vitiello was every bit as immaculately gorgeous as her Instagram and press photos had suggested. I had to resist the urge to move even closer, to touch her and find out if her skin felt as smooth as it looked. The short moment I’d grabbed her had been over in a flash and I hadn’t had time to pay attention.

Her eyelids shot up and she looked at me, piercing and unafraid. I froze, stunned by the intensity of her gaze, by the way it grabbed hold of me and wouldn’t let go. Luckily, the moment was over quickly. Her eyes rolled back and closed, and I stifled a sigh of relief to be freed of her penetrating stare. Fuck.

We changed cars two more times before we reached our new clubhouse out in the woods northeast of Morristown. My heart rate began to slow when we drove through the wire-netting fence gates. I’d half expected Vitiello and his soldiers to launch an attack on us. By now, Marcella was wiggling, still out of it, but growing increasingly more alert. This time I didn’t make the mistake of looking at her again.

Earl waited on the porch of the old farmhouse, arms crossed. He’d received my message about our successful abduction. I jumped out of the van with a thumbs up in Earl’s direction and opened the door of the loading area. Marcella sat up, supporting herself with one arm. She tossed her head back to glare at me when I towered over her.

“Time to move into your temporary home, Miss Vitiello.”

I bent down to pick her up but she scurried backward. “Don’t touch me with your dirty hands.”

She aimed a kick at my crotch, but I grabbed her ankle before she could do real damage and jerked her in my direction. She didn’t have any fight experience, so I had no trouble hoisting her out of the transporter. My attempt to set her down on the ground so she could walk by herself was thwarted when she aimed another kick at my shin.

“Fuck it, bitch.”

Her indignant blue eyes hit me. Nobody had probably ever called her bitch before, and it wasn’t usually a term I threw around, but she really pissed me off.This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Walk or I’ll carry you over my shoulder so my brothers can see your perky ass.”

She stiffened which gave me the chance to actually put her down on her feet and grab her arm to drag her along. Marcella struggled against my hold but I only tightened my fingers around her upper arm, snarling.

“Stop it.”

She flinched before her mouth set in a thin, stubborn line, but at least she finally followed me without a fight.

Earl came down the three steps of the porch and met us halfway.

“Nobody followed you?” Earl asked, scanning Marcella from head to toe.

She shuddered. I wasn’t sure if it was because of Earl or because she finally knew who we were. Unlike Gunnar and me, Earl wore his cut with the big Tartarus MC script on the back and smaller on the front.

“Nobody, don’t worry. We were careful,” I said. I moved toward the house but Earl raised his hand to stop me.

“The kennels,” Earl ordered with a sharp nod in the direction of the line of cages down the slope from the house.

I hesitated, my brows pulling together.

Earl’s eyes sharpened in warning. “Show the whore her rightful place.”

Marcella tensed, but when I started dragging her toward the kennels, fight returned to her body. Eventually, I had enough and hoisted her up on my shoulder as I’d promised. She was a lightweight but what she lacked in weight, she made up with litheness and bite. She tried to scratch my neck and arms, every inch of skin that wasn’t covered by clothes.

“You’re going to regret this! My father will kill you.”

Bearing the sting of her nails stoically, I muttered, “I’m sure he’d love to dismember me, but I won’t give him a chance.”

Barking welcomed us as we reached the kennels. They were one of the new additions to the property. Earl never went anywhere without a few of his fight dogs.

“Oh God,” Marcella whispered. Maybe she thought I hadn’t heard her. It certainly hadn’t been meant for my ears, but for the first time, I sensed her fear and felt it in the tremor of her body.

It was strange, but I didn’t feel any satisfaction at her distress.

I carried her into the only vacant kennel despite her struggling. Rottweilers filled the other cages, beasts that my uncle had turned into vicious fighting machines that only obeyed him, and sometimes me. Their barks and snarls rose in volume at the sight of a stranger.

I dropped her unceremoniously on her feet then turned and threw the cage door shut. The dogs sandwiching her kennel jumped against the bars, snarling and spit flying, as their vicious eyes fixated on Marcella, eager to tear into her. Earl earned good money with dog fights but rumor had it that he’d disposed of traitors that way in the past too, but that had been before my time.

Marcella flinched and backed against the wall of the dog kennel, clutching one of her expensive-looking black high heels. Earl watched everything with a satisfied smile before he strolled over to me. For some reason, seeing her in a cage gave me the same uncomfortable sensation I’d experienced whenever I’d seen a tiger in the zoo. She didn’t belong in there, but this wasn’t about my unreasonable feelings but about revenge. Her discomfort would be short-lived and nothing in comparison to the hell I’d lived after her father had butchered mine.

“Down!” he hissed and the dogs in all the kennels laid down obediently. He stopped beside me but only had eyes for the girl inside the cage.

“Marcella Vitiello, finally we meet.”

“Am I supposed to know who you are?” she said haughtily.

I had a feeling she knew very well who we were. Her reaction to seeing the cut had been too strong. She couldn’t be that oblivious. Though I was sure Vitiello did his best to turn her life into a fucking fairy tale. Yet even her shopping-fixated princess brain had to know the stories about our club and the Famiglia.

“Maybe you don’t,” Earl said with a shrug. He turned, showing her the logo of the hellhound with our script. “I’m the president of the Tartarus MC, and we have to settle a score with your father. Unfortunately for you, we intend to settle it with your help.”

Marcella crossed her arms. “I won’t help you settle anything. Your plan is doomed. My father will butcher all of you like he should have done a long time ago.”

Not blind to what had happened obviously. Suddenly seeing her in the cage didn’t bother me quite as much anymore. Maybe it would do her good to sleep with the dogs for a while.

“Let’s see how long you can keep up that arrogance. Enjoy our hospitality,” he said with a throaty chuckle. With a nod at me, he turned and headed back to the building.

Marcella didn’t move. She still brandished that one shoe in her hand. Her feet were bare, so she must have lost one shoe along the way.

“You won’t need fancy shoes around here, trust me,” I said, leaning against the bars.

She glanced at her high heel then back at me. “I don’t trust you, or any of the other hillbillies.”

“Hillbillies?” I smirked and calmly took a cigarette from the package in my jeans. “Not a very clever thing to insult the people responsible for your safety.” I lit up the cigarette, never taking my eyes off the girl.

Even her feet were immaculate. Her toes were painted red, probably by some fancy beauty salon in Manhattan. Girls like her didn’t do their own nails, or hair, or anything else. They were used to having people do everything for them. Spoiled to the very core.

I finally tore my eyes away from her feet, not wanting to look like some pervert who was into sucking toes. Marcella was watching me like I had been watching her. Her face was a mask of control, but her eyes couldn’t hide her fear. It didn’t give me the amount of satisfaction I’d hoped for. Her father was who I wanted in my hands.

“I don’t even know your name,” Marcella said as if formal introductions could be expected.

“Maddox—Mad Dog—White.”

I watched her reaction to my name, especially my nickname, closely. If she recognized the name, she didn’t show it, but my middle name definitely caught her attention.

“Mad dog,” she said, shaking her head with a bitter smile. She flicked her manicured fingers in the direction of the dogs. “So they are yours?”

I scoffed. “You think they call me Mad Dog because I’m mad about dogs?”

“How would I know about biker etiquette, if there even exists any kind of etiquette among your kind.”

I gritted my teeth. “Mad Dog because I know no fear, like a mad dog.”

“Then you’ve never met my father.”

I laughed quietly, shaking my head as I shoved the toe of my black boots into the dirt. If only she knew. She tilted her head in curiosity but I had no intention of telling her more right now.

“Why am I here?” she asked almost haughtily.

I had to admit she surprised me. I’d have thought she’d be begging and crying by now, but so far she kept up the cold mask she was notorious for. Maybe Marcella had more of her father in her than my uncle and I thought. “Like my uncle said, because of your father and the score we want to settle.”

She shook her head. “Whatever you want from him, you won’t get it.”

“We want his life, and I’m sure we’ll get it considering we have his precious daughter.”

Marcella glanced over to the kennel on her left where Satan, Earl’s favorite dog, sat behind the bars and watched her like her next treat. I’d never understood why he’d called a female dog Satan but understanding Earl’s reasoning was wasted time anyway.

She swallowed and dragged her eyes back to me. “My father is the cruelest man you’ll ever have the misfortune of meeting. The only thing he cares about is the Famiglia.”

I chuckled. “You really think I believe that? Your father is good at keeping up his cold-bastard face in public but you and your mother look at him with love. If he was an asshole to you behind closed doors, you wouldn’t look at him like that.”

I’d spent hours looking at photos of Luca with his family in the last few weeks. The internet was full of official portraits, few of which conveyed any honest emotion, but a few unwanted paparazzi photos had revealed Marcella’s and Aria’s feelings toward the man I hated more than anything. By some miracle, they seemed to adore him, and while he always kept his cold-bastard façade up in public, I had a feeling he was at the very least protective and possessive of his daughter and wife. He would act now that we had her.

Marcella shrugged, trying to appear blasé, but she dug her red-painted nails into her upper arms. “If you say so. Many victims love and admire their abusers.”

I took a drag from my cigarette. “Some do. But it is always mixed with fear, fear of displeasing their abuser and being at the receiving end of their wrath.”

“How would you know?” she said sharply. “Did you major in psychology?”

I gave her a tight smile. She didn’t need to know more about my past than the story about my father’s death. “Nah, unlike you, I wasn’t given the privilege of going to college.”

“It can’t be about money. I bet your club makes plenty of money with drugs and guns. It’s a lucrative business.”

“I’m surprised you know more about money than the price tag on your fancy shoes.”

“I never look at price tags,” she said dryly, giving a delicate one-shoulder shrug.

I actually laughed. She had bite. I liked that. I’d expected something else. “So your daddy shares his business stories with you?”

Maybe Marcella could actually be useful as more than bargaining material. Earl was keen on expanding our business but the Famiglia had a tight grip on drugs and guns.

“No, he doesn’t. That’s something everyone with a bit of brain knows.”

I couldn’t tell if she was lying. She had a good poker face. And she was definitely too confident for her own good.

As the silence between us extended, she looked around her cell cautiously.

“In case you’re looking for the toilet, it’s over there.” I pointed at the rusty bucket in the corner.

“I won’t use a bucket,” she said in disgust.

“Then you can just let it go on the floor like the dogs do.”

She looked over to the cage on her left again where Satan was now lying in her kennel, keeping a close eye on Marcella.

The roar of several bikes told me the celebrations of a successful kidnapping would soon begin. With cheers and hoots, several of my club brothers made their way over to the kennels. They clapped my shoulders and checked out the captive with leery eyes and dirty comments. After a few minutes, in which Marcella seemed to have tried to disappear into the wall, they left for the clubhouse.

Marcella gripped her forearms even tighter, glimpsing at me. “So what now?”

I tossed my cigarette on the ground. “You stay here and get comfortable, and I’ll go to my brothers.”

Loud country music blasted through the open windows and a few guys were singing along out of tune. They must have found the moonshine already. The door of the clubhouse burst open and Gunnar stumbled out, his shirt half unbuttoned and a bottle of moonshine in his hands.

“Maddox, you’re missing the party,” he shouted.

“I’m coming!”

“I suppose you’re celebrating my kidnapping?” Marcella asked, tugging a strand of hair behind her ear. Today was the first time I saw her hair not perfectly straightened.

“That, and your father’s upcoming painful death once he hands himself over for you.”

Marcella surprised me when she pushed away from the wall and came closer. I narrowed my eyes and straightened from the bars. She was a petite woman, a head shorter than me, but sometimes appearances were deceiving. The smile she sent me was ice cold. “Enjoy the party while it lasts, but don’t make a mistake, the only death you’re celebrating is your own.”

Gray arrived on his bike in that moment.

“Finally, Gray, move your ass over here. Your old man has been looking for you all day,” Gunnar shouted.

Gray gave me a nod as he got off his bike. I shook my head, wondering what he’d been up to again. His eyes settled on Marcella and he grimaced. His sentiments toward the kidnapping hadn’t changed. Mine hadn’t really either but sacrifices had to be made if we wanted our well-deserved revenge.

Gunnar slung an arm around his shoulders and steered him toward the clubhouse, even if Gray looked as if he’d rather spend the evening at the kennels with me.

Marcella’s gaze darted from them to me. “Your brother?”

I tilted my head, realizing she was watching everything closely. I wasn’t sure how she knew we were related. We both had blonde hair but Gray had our mom’s gray eyes and his face was softer than mine. “Half-brother,” I said.

She nodded, as if she was filing the information for later use.

I lit another cigarette and tipped an imaginary hat before I strode over to the clubhouse. “Enjoy the fresh air.”

She didn’t say anything but I could almost feel her furious eyes on my neck.

Inside the clubhouse, the party was in full swing. Word about the success of the mission had spread quickly.

Everyone wanted to clap my shoulder and congratulate me on my success. I only shook my head with a grin. Earl came toward me and handed me a Budweiser. “Why aren’t you celebrating?”

“It’s too soon,” I shouted into his ear. “We’ve won a battle but not the war.”

“It’s an important battle, son. Let our men celebrate and give them the feeling we’re close to winning the fucking war.”

I nodded, then took a swig from the beer before I allowed Cherry, one of the newer club girls, to rub herself against me in a very explicit dance. My mind was elsewhere. I couldn’t stop thinking about the girl locked in the kennel outside. She had been a figment of my imagination for so long that having her this close was a shock to my system.

The moment I’d finished the beer, Gray shoved a bottle of moonshine into my hand. I took a small sip then put it down on the bar.

I preferred to stay sober with Marcella in our hands. I wouldn’t underestimate Luca Vitiello. The man was a homicidal maniac with an army of loyal soldiers at his hands, and he was deadly protective of his family. Kidnapping his daughter could be the nail in all of our coffins if we didn’t play this right. Earl should have postponed the celebrations, even if our brothers wouldn’t have liked it. Alcohol and pussy could wait until Vitiello was dead.

Cherry pressed up to me. “You look bored. Let’s go up to your room. I know how to entertain you.”

I let her pull me up the stairs and into my small room. The only piece of furniture was a bed and an armchair that I used to throw my clothes over.

She shoved me on the bed and began to strip. I’d always been satisfied with the girls in the club, but now I couldn’t stop comparing them to Marcella fucking Vitiello. And fuck me, Snow White played in a league of her own. Cherry dropped her bra but that wasn’t why my cock erected a tent in my jeans. An image of cold blue eyes, black hair, and plump red lips lingered in my head.

I needed to stop fantasizing about Snow White, especially now that she was in reach.