 This is Luca Vittiello, written by Cora Riley, read for you by Sebastian Yorke, prologue. I was the boy who killed his first man at eleven. I was the teenager who crushed his cousin's throat at seventeen. I was the man who bathed in his enemy's blood without a flicker of remorse, who relished in their screams as if it was a fucking Mozart sonata. I was born a monster. Cruelty ran in my veins like poison. It ran in the veins of every Vittiello man, passed on from father to son, an endless spiral of monstrosity. I was a born monster shaped into an even worse monster by my father's blade and fists and harsh words. I was raised to become capo, to rule without mercy, to dish out brutality without a second thought. I was raised to break others. When Aria was given to me in marriage, everyone waited with bated breath to see how fast I'd break her like my father broke his women. How I'd crush her innocence and kindness with the force of my cruelty, with relentless brutality. Breaking her would have taken little effort. It came naturally to me. A man born a monster, raised to be a monster, bound to be a monster, to become capo. I was gladly the monster everyone feared, until her. Until Aria. With her, I didn't have to cover up my darkness. Her light shone brighter than my darkness ever could. With her, I didn't want to be the monster. I wanted to shield her from that part of my nature. But I was born a monster, raised to break others. Not breaking her would come with a price. A price a monster like myself shouldn't risk pain. CHAPTER ONE Luca, nine years old. Matteo and I sat at the dining table, our eyes trained on the door, waiting for mother. The bell for dinner had run a long time ago. Our nanny, Mariana, stood against the wall, glancing toward the clock on the sideboard, then back to us. Father rarely ate with us, but mother always did, at least dinner, even when she could hardly stand. She was always on time in case father decided to show up. Where was she? Was she sick? Yesterday she'd looked white, except for the blue and yellow blotches on her face and arms, where father had disciplined her. Sample complete. Ready to continue?