The Biker’s Mafia Princess (Angel and Savage)

Rebel POV.

I've fucked up, like, royally fucked up.

It was hard growing up with a huge family like mine. So much was expected of me, to be the perfect biker and mafia little princess. To be a good example to my little sister and brother. To have perfect grades, perfect clothes, hair, everything. But did anyone ask what I wanted to be? No, they fucking didn't.

So, in true Rebel fashion, I rebelled.

I wasn't spoilt or anything. Ok, that is a lie, I was. Some would see what I have done as attention seeking, throwing a hissy-fit. But it was more than that.

Let me take y'all back a few years and then maybe you will see where I'm coming from and how I ended up in this clusterfuck that I am now in.

I had a good early childhood; I was loved, adored even. I had all the love and attention a little girl wanted. Now I'm not saying I wasn't loved after this because I was. When mom had Luna Skye, I helped as best as I could. Being the big sister was a huge responsibility. But I felt lonely.

Everyone was more interested in the new baby. They did try to include me, but Luna took up so much of mom and dad's time. It was fine. The other adults made time for me. Mom and dad were always busy. If it wasn't with the new baby, it was with their respective grownup stuff. They didn't have time to play with me, so I felt alone.

Then my brother arrived when I was five Ryder-Junior or RJ for short. And boy did that little golden boy turd arrive in style. Dad was made up, he had got his boy. The boy he could take biking and do boy stuff with. Luna had mom, and me? Well, I had myself. I was like one of those latchkey kids in a way.

Uncle Blaze was teaching Dylan, his son, and my best friend to ride a dirt bike. Uncle Blaze and aunt Coral were there for me more than my parents were. So I was taught to ride and do other stuff and I'm damn good too.

Luna and RJ got everything they wanted the older they got. When it came to me and what I wanted, I had to throw the mother of all tantrums to get it. It didn't matter that I was being good, or that I had asked for things for my birthday or Christmas. They got everything, and I was told to share. Really? Share, like I had any choice. They took everything from me, yet I was the bad one. I stopped asking and getting my hopes up.

The divide in the family just kept growing. I became a recluse, a ghost in my own family.

When I started high school, I tried to keep myself to myself, but it's kind of hard to do when your family is famous. The Moretti's being known for the mafia ties and the Jackson's well their ties to the Princes Of Darkness MC. I quickly became the queen bee of the school. But I knew these kids only wanted to get to know me because of who my family was, not for me.

So like any attention starved teenager, I soaked it up and eventually started lashing out. Using my connections to get what I wanted. No homework for me, no waiting in line, getting what I wanted when I wanted.

At sixteen, I was drinking, smoking, and partying with these people. A big fuck you to my parents and both families. Until I was found comatose, barely breathing and hypothermic in a ditch.

God, my mom, and dad went to town on me, calling me selfish and a brat for how I had been acting. So, in true Rebel fashion, I did it again. Any attention is still attention, right? Wrong.

My grades began to slip, I dabbled in drugs and had several DUIs by the time I was eighteen. Then the day came. The family intervention. I scoffed family, what fucking family? They weren't there for me, always too involved with the two crotch goblins to give a fuck about me. I was their child too, but I was forgotten about.

I fought with my parent's told them I hated them, then I was attacked by my siblings. They go their asses beat because after all it was their fault. If they hadn't had been born, my life wouldn't be in the toilet. I was sent to rehab for six months.

I quickly ruled in there, too. I didn't want the help. Then one day, something just clicked in place. I knew I was being a selfish little bitch in some ways. So when I left rehab, I got a job and kept my head down.

That is, until that fateful night.noveldrama

I was on my way home from finishing the close down shift in the local diner. When I was walking home. I saw a few of the people who I used to knock around with. Not friends, not even acquaintances, more like customers. They used to get their drugs from me and only wanted to be friends because of my family name. God, I was so fucking stupid.

Where was I? Right, sorry.

I was on my way home. As I walked past these cretins, I heard them mention my name. Usually I wouldn't stop, but they mentioned that I would get them the money. What money? Well, I had to find out. So I went over to them to find out why my name was being mentioned to people I didn't know, about money I didn't

owe.

The cheeky bitches had gotten themselves involved with some low life wannabe gangster and told him I sent them. Which I never, because I had nothing to do with these people from before I ended up in rehab.

We got into it. I ended up fighting with them, knocking them out in an epic beat down, and the wannabe gangster that was no doubt selling my family's product pulled a gun on me. Big mistake. Fucking massive!

I was shot at the same time as he was. I always carry my gun, always. I was taken to hospital and all that. Getting shot, yeah, I'm not a fan. It hurts like a bitch. But little did I know at that time that my life was about to get more complicated. More fucked up. How you ask, well.

You see, the wannabe I shot and killed? Yeah, there was a contract already taken out on him. The Mother's Revenge had been watching me as I took their hit and so, according to Alessa, I owed them. So that leads me to here and now.

"Reb, Reeeeeebbbbbsssss!" I snap out of my thoughts as I look at Dylan, AKA Scythe. He is now a member of the club and my housemate. We live together but not in a relationship kind of way, much to our parent's disappointment. Don't get it twisted. Dylan is hot that boy grew into all man, but I know we would never be more than friends and that's sad. He and his parents were the only ones who saw me, the real me. But alas, it was never going to happen, so why cry over it? I don't have time for relationships.

I'm no saint, far from it. I'm not a virgin, either. I mean come on people we live in the twenty-first century and a woman doesn't need to keep her virtue for her husband, not saying there is anything wrong with doing that, it's just not for me. So, we fuck different people and have a good time together. He is a great guy and helps me keep my head on straight.

"What?" I shout over the music as the two of us sit at the bar drinking and chatting, but he doesn't know I'm here working. Yes, I have been an assassin for the past five years. But this assignment is different. I have never had to keep a target alive before and that is why I'm here.

To keep this man called Dante Fanucci alive, He is a Don and has quickly risen up through the ranks. He runs a lot of businesses: strip clubs, brothels, hotels, restaurants. The bar we are in now is his. Allegations were made that he was running a trafficking and sex ring. He isn't; he checks out. But someone put a hit out on him. A hit that the Mother's Revenge refused, so here I am babysitting a man who doesn't know that he is wanted dead and there is a real threat to his life.

"What's wrong? You, girl, need to get laid. You have been so uptight. Is it that time of the month? Is your aunt flo here for a visit, shark week? Do I need to throw chocolate and wine at you?" I hit him in the chest as he chuckles.

"Asshole, no I'm fine." I look at the woman giving him the come to bed eyes and smirk.

"Besides, you seem a little tense there, Scythe. Maybe it's you that needs to get laid. I think that redhead with the big tits is interested." I say, nodding towards the woman. He follows my line of sight and gives her his panty dropping smile.

"I'm going in. Wish my luck." He says as he turns and I smack his ass.

"Go get em, Casanova.” I say and he smiles at me over his shoulder and winks, before he blows me a kiss and I give him the finger as I drink my drink.

Ok, time to keep this man alive. He doesn't know, and I want to keep it that way.

I know his routine down to a tee. Right now he is in his office with his goon squad making sure his business is above board, then he will walk the floor for a while mingling, before he leaves through the back into his armoured SUV and heads to his penthouse in the city. Where he will shower, go to bed and read. This man for a mafia Don is rather boring ergo babysitting.

I did ask Alessa to assign one of the newbies to this, but she said, and I quote, This is the debt that you will pay by keeping him alive. I did stomp my feet and earned myself a training session that made me throw up.

At least he is good looking, nothing wrong with some eye-candy. He is six foot three, dark hair shaved to the skin and long on top. He has black and grey tattoos on his back, chest, arms, hands, and throat, even on the side of his head. He has green eyes and is packing muscle among a few other things, if you get my drift.

I have been assigned to him for over two months now and have eliminated many other assassin squads and professional hit men and women. But they never get close to him, not close enough to smell his cologne or to even get within range of him. No, they are dead before they even try.

I check my phone and switch to water. I know he will be leaving the office to make the rounds in five minutes. So I wait and watch, scanning the crowd of clubbers for anyone who looks suspicious.

When one man catches my eye. The flashing lights make it difficult to see his face when he turns and I smirk, knowing who it is. I roll my eyes, James Cooper. A mistake on my part, someone I should have never slept with, but hey he is just a name added to the long list of fuck-ups. But he is here to take Dante out. Well, not on my watch.