Here we go! Fyrebyrd is my pre-reader. SunFlower Fran is my beta!

Incase you don't know, we're going back to the beginning where Killa met his Bee!

Happy New Year!

Chapter 1

June 2004 (14)


I listen closely to make sure Ma isn't walking by my room or some shit like that. I turn up the volume a little as the sounds of fucking fill the otherwise quiet space, and I stare at the video my cousin Jaz gave me for what seems like the hundredth time.

In truth, I'm wicked bored with it and ready for the real thing, but fucking Lauren will only let me suck on her tits... damn tease. You would think being with a sixteen-year-old would be easy pickings for a fourteen-year-old, but no, I have the purest, fucking Catholic schoolgirl there is.

It's time to definitely move on.

A crash downstairs takes my attention from the TV screen. I hope those stupid guards my father has watching us while he's out fucking whoever the flavor of the month is, aren't eating that cake Ma made.

Fucking pricks.

There's another series of loud noises and then eventually the clear sound of a gunshot.

Two pops.

Kill shots.

My heart beats wildly in my chest, but I know I have no time to freak the fuck out. I have to make sure Ma and Emmett are safe.

Leaving the room as quickly and as quietly as possible, I make my way to Da's office. I'm alert as I enter and go over to his safe, putting in the code before taking out the two Beretta 96A1s and the key to the gun cabinet in case I need more firepower.

Da has been training me for situations like this for two years. We were ambushed on a family vacation to the Cape. Ma was hit and lost the baby she was carrying.

I was so fucking mad at Da for not protecting my mother like he always promised he would. He's taught my brother and me to always protect the women we marry, and he fucking failed.

The image of me hitting and punching him until I ran out of strength runs through my mind. Big bad Carlisle Masen couldn't even fight back with his twelve-year-old son because he was so full of grief.

Checking the chambers to make sure both guns are locked and loaded, I put the box of ammo in my pajama pocket and leave the room.

With the gun pointed out in front of me, my hands are sure and steady. Once I round the corner, my finger is on the trigger when I come face to face with my terrified mother and brother.

"Go lock yourselves in the safe room," I whisper.

I press my finger against my lips, signaling for them to be quiet.

"I'm not leaving you out here, Edward! Put those guns down and come with me, now!" my mother whisper-shouts, becoming hysterical.

I shake my head, but stop when I hear the second stair to the top creak. It's an old house, and I know every sound.

Without thinking, I turn and aim the gun. It takes me two seconds to know it's not one of our guys and then I fire.



He falls backward down the stairs.

My mother lets out a high-pitched cry, but I'm too on alert to care. "Take Ma to the safe room now!" I yell at my brother, who looks like he's going to piss himself.

My heart is beating out of my chest as I crawl to the banister just in time to see two armed men coming up the stairs.

They're locked and loaded, and I know if they get up here we're all dead.

I aim; my hand steady like I was born to kill.



The first guy is down, and the other one looks around frantically, not seeing me. My finger is on the trigger before his eyes lock on mine.

I fire.

Kill shot.

Deciding this is the best spot, I set the second gun next to me ready for when they come.

And come they do.

Four more gunmen open fire, but they're shooting blindly as they can't find me behind the large pillar that connects to the staircase.

I balked two years ago when Ma remolded the house making it more over the top than necessary, but now the added protection is needed.

A few seconds pass before I'm hitting one of the greasy-haired motherfuckers in the knee and another in the head. But I'm too slow as the last two run up the stairs.

Fucking Italians!

Da has been at war with the fucking Italians for over a year now. Apparently, Charlie Swanatori wants The Hub, but the problem is Boston belongs to the fucking Masens.

I'm out of ammo, and I throw the empty gun down, picking up the other that is locked and ready.

"Dove sei fottuto?" the motherfucker says as he gets closer to me.

I don't know Italian, but I know it's an insult.

Steadying my breath, I quickly turn, just as he's reaching the top stair, and fire. He stumbles back from the two chest shots I deliver and falls on the last guy. He's looking around wildly, trying to find the shooter.

Standing, I point and shoot in one swift motion. His eyes go wide before the life leaves them altogether.

Before moving, my ears perk up, searching for more footsteps. I'm at attention as I creep down the stairs, the only sound is a grunt coming from the kitchen.

My gun is locked and loaded when I ease in, only to find Felix, our head bodyguard bleeding out on Ma's kitchen floor.

"Christ, Kid! I thought they killed you all," he says, grimacing in pain.

He's bleeding from his chest and leg, the body of a dead Italian at his feet.

"No. I killed them," I say coldly.

Our eyes lock, and he nods in understanding, pressing his hand against his wound as best he can.

Before I can move. the door opens, and I point my gun, once again prepared to defend my family.

"Whoa! Whoa! It's me!" my Da yells, coming into the kitchen with his gun ready and armed men surrounding him.

I lower my weapon but don't say a word because I'm too upset with him for leaving us vulnerable like this.

The gunmen separate and leave the kitchen while my father and I stare at each other.

"What happened, Felix?" my father asks.

"Killa over there took out all the men except that one." He nods to me as two of the guys help him up.

"Killa? You a killa, Edward? Is that why you're glaring at me like you have a fucking problem?" Da eyes the gun still firmly in my grasp. "Put down the damn gun," he commands.

"Where were you?" I ask, my teeth clenched.

"I don't fucking answer to you. I'm the father!" he yells.

I lift the gun and hold it to his head. "Where. The. Fuck. Were. You?" My hand is wicked steady as I look into his cold blue eyes.

"Oh! You're a killa now, so you're going to kill me too? Do it," he says, no fear in his eyes.

"Edward! What are you doing? Put down that gun!" my mother cries from the doorway.

I'm aware of the gunmen around me, and I see one go for his weapon.

"You pull that gun out on my fucking kid, you won't walk out of here alive. That goes for all of you," Da says, not breaking eye contact with me.

"You leave Ma vulnerable like this again while you go fuck one of your whores and I'll kill you my fucking self," I say before dropping my hand and turning away from him.

"Whatever you say. Killa."


After a shower, I go to Da's office; the time for me is now. After what went down tonight, I'm no longer a fucking child.

I know he may want to give me shit about pulling the gun on him, but fuck him. He's the one that constantly fucks around on Ma. Usually I don't care, but this time she could've lost her life.

We all could have.

When I enter his office, he's sitting there smoking a cigar, not a care in the fucking world. I'm wicked pissed that he seems so calm, cool, and collected. His entire fucking family could've been killed tonight.

"I want to be in the business. I'm not a kid anymore," I state, standing firm.

"Sit down," he orders.

I let out a frustrated sigh before taking a seat. After the day I've had, I just want to sleep for a wicked long time, not come in here and hear his shit.

I'm still shaking a little. Just the thought that they could've killed Ma and Emmett has my heart stopping. I'll do anything to protect my family.

I don't regret killing all those men. I don't give a fuck that they may have a family somewhere. They were threatening my family, my life, so they had to die. I'll do it again.

"You're right. You're not a fucking kid. If you can kill seven men, you're a motherfuckin' killa. You start tomorrow."

July 2005 (15)

Throwing another book into the moving box, I sigh out in frustration, not wanting to leave my childhood home or neighborhood. I've lived in Dorchester Heights my entire fucking life, now Da has decided to move us to fucking Andover.

The war with the Italians has been going on ever since they attacked our house last year. There hasn't been another occurrence in our home, but Da wants to make sure we're safe.

He's increased security on everyone except me, since I've proven I can take care of myself. I'm always paired up with either Felix or my Uncle Eleazar on a job.

"Looks good in here," Da says,. interrupting my thoughts.

"I don't see why we have to fucking move. You need to put a bullet in The Chief if you ask me." I throw another book in the box.

Fucking Charlie 'The Chief' Swanatori has ruined our fucking lives, the greedy motherfucker.

"When you're the boss, Killa, you'll know that you can't just off the fucking boss of the Swanatoria Mafia," Da says, sitting down on my bed. "And please watch your damn mouth! Your mother is already on me about you being out of control."

The one thing that came out of that night our house was invaded by Italian scum is my new nickname...Killa.

At first, it seemed like a joke among Da and his men, but then I noticed how they all looked at me differently. Their view of me changed that night because I did what none of them were able to do.

I protected my family.

Not even Felix, one of the most deadliest killers in the family, could defend us, but I could.

"What if I don't want to be boss?" I ask, sitting next to him on the bed.

"That's not an option for you. You're the boss, Killa."

"I don't know, Da. I like going on jobs, and I'm good at the kills, but being the boss." I shake my head. "I like my freedom, and I don't want my family being a target."

He wraps his arm around my shoulders. "Some people, like your brother, are born to be followers. They can take orders, do a good job, but then there are people like you. The boss." He pulls me to him. "Only a boss can do what you did last year and survive. I'll let you have your fun for a while, but when the time comes, you're my successor. Only you."

December 2006 (16)

My hand is steady as I stand in front of the fucking scumbag who thinks he can betray my father. This is the first job I'm doing without Felix, and I plan to have a little fun.

The past year has been spent doing hits for my father with Felix. At sixteen, I know how to get rid of a body where no one can ever find it. I can clean a crime scene wicked fast, and there is never a hair or a drop of blood in sight.

Felix likes a clean kill, everything nice and neat-like.


I like for a motherfucker to suffer, to look into their eyes and know I'm the one ending it. It's sick. I know. But after doing this for a year, I've learned I'm wicked good at killing. I also like inflicting pain, like now.

Flexing my fingers with my new brass knuckles Da gifted me for Christmas, I pound on the guy until he's begging for his life and the life of his entire family.

Bending down, my eyes lock on the Chowdahead, who looks like he's going to pass out. "What's doin?" I ask.

"I'll talk, Killa. I'll tell you everything you want to know about Charlie Swanatori," he cries.

I give him a sadistic smile.


August 2007 (17)

Checking my phone, I slide it open to see Felix sent me a one-word message, 'go' and nothing else. It's what I've been waiting for, the signal to take out one of The Chief's top earners in The Hub.

I'll do anything to off The Chief my fucking self. I've done surveillance on him once or twice just to see how close I can get. And I can get wicked close.

I finish dressing, not wanting to linger any longer than necessary. Rachel is becoming attached, and that shit isn't happening.

After my first time with Lauren when I was fourteen, there've been a number of girls throwing themselves at me, most much older, too. Rachel is nineteen, a sophomore at Emerson College. I met her at a club one night with my cousin, Jasper, who's a year older than me.

"Are you sure you can't stay? I thought maybe we could grab something to eat, yeah?" She sits up, her perky breasts on display.

"Na-ah, I have to go, and you know what this is," I say, grabbing my jacket.

"I was hoping we could be more," she says, smiling a sexy smile.

My laugh is cold as I shake my head. Even if I wanted more with someone, I'm not stupid enough to bring a girl like Rachel home to my mother. Besides, I don't want more, not with her, not with anyone.

Walking towards the door, I turn to look, "See you around."

Her room door closes behind me as I make my way out of her apartment. My eyes scan my surroundings as I walk to my car. I'm always alert even though Da been able to keep my identity a secret to his enemies.

They only know of Killa, but they don't know who he is or anything about him.

Reaching the apartment I use when I need to stay in The Hub or to cool down after a kill, I go in and gear up.

Putting on all black, I use my beanie to cover my fucked up hair. It's uncontrollable, and it's the first thing a target would see; the perfect warning sign.

I put on my gun holster and add my knives as well as my brass knuckles. Finally prepared, I Ieave the apartment, but this time taking an unmarked car specifically for this occasion.

When I reach my destination in Beacon Hills, I make sure to park the old beat up Dodge Stratus two blocks down. I know the streets well as I walk down the alley to the home of Joseph Ricci.

Joseph followed his boss, The Chief, from New York and is second in command in Boston. His wife and kids are in Long Island at her mother's. One of the rules I've learned in this business is that women and children are off limits.

As it should be.

Once I'm in the house and have the alarm disabled, I ease my way to where good 'ole Joe is sleeping. Standing over him, I watch him for a moment before I cock my gun and place it to his forehead.

I've cased the place so many times, I know where he keeps his pieces. One under his pillow, one in his side drawer.

His eyes are wide as he tries to move his hand under his pillow. "Don't fucking move," I demand. "I have a message for The Chief …"

"Tell him Carlisle Masen said to go fuck himself."

I pull the trigger, killing him instantly.

December 2011 (22)

"I swear on my mother I didn't steal the money!" Tyler cries as I press the knife deeper in his hand.

"Leave your fucking mother out of this! You should be ashamed of yourself," I say, getting pissed that he has the fucking balls to lie on his mother like this.

I take the knife out of his hand and then smash it down into his thigh. He cries out, whimpering and begging.

"Emmett!" I call out to my brother. He's been a part of the family business now since he was eighteen, but Da still doesn't want him taking on too much.

He doesn't think he has the stomach for it but in truth, I believe he does. He just hasn't taken to it naturally like me.

"Yeah, Killa?" he asks.

"Where did you say that pretty little girlfriend of Tyler's works?" I ask, putting on my brass knuckles.

"She works over at the Barnes & Noble at Boston University. Pretty little thing, Becca, is it?" he says, bending down to show Tyler the picture of his girl chatting it up with my cousin Jasper.

"Yeah, even better looking in person," Jasper says, leaning against the warehouse door.

"You got something to tell me?" I ask, standing to my full height.

"I needed the money; they were going to kill me." His body sags with grief.

"Were they? What the fuck you think I'm going to do...invite you to dinner?" I start pounding on him blow after blow.

This motherfucker thinks he can steal ten grand from my father and live.

Not happening.

While I'm beating the shit out of Tyler, my phone alarm buzzes, and I take a step back from his bloodied body. He's practically unconscious when I pick my phone out of my pocket to see it's almost four.

"Fuck! I'm late for my final! Finish this motherfucker off, Emmett. Jasper make sure he cleans this shit correctly. Not a fucking drop." I point to my cousin.

I hurry, cleaning myself and making sure there are no signs of blood or hair on me. Taking off what I'm wearing, I change into jeans and a t-shirt.

Flexing, my tattooed forearm catches my attention. I've added to my body since I was eighteen, loving the black ink. It gives me an opportunity to represent my Irish heritage.

Speeding through Boston, I try to get to my last final before Christmas break at Harvard Business School. It's been wicked hard juggling school, hits, and working with my uncle at Masen Liquors, but I've made it happen.

When I park on campus, I find a text from my father. "Dinner at seven."

Fuck, I had plans to celebrate tonight. I guess I'll stop by my parents' and then meet up with Jaz.

I exit my car, grabbing my bag and run to class.

Right now, there's no Killa in sight. Just business major, Edward Masen.


Dove sei fottuto? Where are you fucker?

Onna-conna On account

Chowdahead Stupid person.

What's doin'? How are you?

A/N: Let the games begin! Weekly updates until I catch up with myself. LOL Every Friday it is!