Eagle Elite Book 9

  by Rachel Van Dyken

  Copyright © 2018 RACHEL VAN DYKEN

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.


  Copyright © 2018 RACHEL VAN DYKEN

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9971451-7-5

  Cover Art by Jena Brignola

  Formatting by Jill Sava, Love Affair With Fiction



  Eagle Elite Family



  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

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Chapter Seventy

  Chapter Seventy-One

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  Chapter Seventy-Eight


  About The Author

  Also By Rachel Van Dyken

  To all the readers who hated me after Enrage — it's time for our revenge.



  Author note: I’m adding this in here just in case you guys need a refresher on who belongs to each family and which couple belongs to each book.

  Nixon Abandonato married to Trace Alfero (Granddaughter to Frank Alfero). Nixon is the boss to the Abandonato family. (Elite/Elect)

  Frank Alfero married to Joyce Alfero (deceased). Former boss to the Alfero Family. (Elite & Enchant)

  Chase Abandonato married to Mil De Lange (Phoenix De Lange’s sister, deceased, RAT). Mil was the new mob boss to the De Lange Family, one of the most hated in The Cosa Nostra. (Entice)

  Tex Campisi married to Mo Abandonato (Nixon’s twin sister). Tex is the capo dei capi, which basically means he’s their version of the godfather. (Elicit)

  Luca Nicolasi (deceased). Never married, but had a small affair with the love of his life Joyce Alfero, this produced two children. Dante and Valentina Nicolasi. (Enchant & Enrapture in the Hurt anthology)

  Phoenix De Lange married to Bee Campisi (Tex’s sister). He is the new boss to the Nicolasi dynasty. He knows everyone’s secrets and keeps black folders on every individual close to them, himself included. (Ember)

  Sergio Abandonato married to Andi Petrov (Russian mafia, deceased). Sergio was forced to marry her for protection, and later marries his soul mate Valentina Nicolasi. (Elude, Empire)

  Dante Nicolasi married to El De Lange. Dante is the new boss to the Alfero Family. (Enrage)

  Ax Abandonato married to Amy De Lange. He’s a made man for the Abandonato Family. (Bang, Bang)

  Nikolai Blazik married to Maya Petrov (both Russian Mafia). He makes a brief appearance in many EE books, and is known as The Doctor. (Rip — EE spinoff)

  The Petrov Family is the Russian dynasty out to destroy all five Sicilian families. They have now spread from Chicago, to New York, and even Seattle.


  Noun, plural: a speech or writing in praise of a person or thing — especially a set oration in honor of a deceased person — high praise and or commendation. i.e.: the man refused to praise the dead — after all she was still haunting the living — and for that very reason, there would be no words, for they would be filled with empty lies and angry threats. A Eulogy — she did not deserve.


  Blood. Blood. Blood.

  It covered my hands.

  It surged through my heart.

  It dripped from my fingertips onto the concrete floor.





  Insanity scratched its way into my psyche as I eyed the door and waited. One heartbeat, two heartbeats, three…

  It opened.

  I fired two rounds, and acrid smoke filled the air.

  I thought I knew what love was. I was a fucking idiot. Every single bone in my body shuddered with rage, with the need to rip something apart, someone, anyone — all of them. My friends. My brothers. I brought the war to our house, and they would finish me because of it.

  I’d thought I loved her.

  Our love had been a lie.

  Her betrayal my only truth.

  And now?

  Now, I finally knew what love was. I’d seen it, smelled it, tasted it.

  And lost it.

  I’d fucking lost it.

  They would pay. They would all pay.

  For taking her.

  For turning her against me.

  For making me believe that blood was everything, only after mine was spilled.

  “I’m not worth dying for,” she’d whispered. “But you, Chase Abandonato… you’re worth living for, breathing for, existing for. The only way to break — is from being already broken.”

  “I am broken.”

  “But…” She’d placed a hand on my chest, my heart surging to life. “You don’t have to be….”

  Two more steps, three. I kicked the door open and fired as bullets whizzed by my ear, and when one struck true, and I collapsed to the ground; I swore up at the barre
l of the gun.

  I’d live.

  For her.

  I’d choose life.

  I wanted life.

  Not this.

  They surrounded me.

  I wasn’t afraid.

  I’d cheat death.

  With a bloody smile, I crawled to my knees and yelled, firing rounds into the ceiling surrounding me as my screams of pain filled the room.

  As the broken…

  By finally shattering…

  Became whole.

  “You’ve made your choice,” he whispered, closing his eyes and turning his gun to my head. “And this was it.”

  “I don’t choose me.” Blood trickled down my chin. “I choose her.”


  “Chase Abandonato should have been boss. It was his birthright, but he gave it up for his best friend. He’d never been groomed for that position and claimed he didn’t want the responsibility. It wasn’t much later that he’d married Mil De Lange in order to align the De Lange family back into the fold. The problem with that sordid situation was that he thought he’d finally found his purpose in protecting her — and that woman didn’t want what he had to offer.” I tapped my thumb against the metal desk. “Can I go now?”

  — Notes from interview with Agent P, FBI



  The sound of someone choking, gasping for air, filled the empty space in the large foyer.

  My blurry eyes darted around in a frenzied attempt to find the source, only to realize a few seconds later.

  It was me.

  I was the one choking.

  I was the one sobbing.

  I was the one making that bloodcurdling noise as I fell to my knees, then very slowly, pulled out my gun and started shooting.

  I took out the walls first. They were her favorite; she’d said she wanted something modern, chic.

  “Make it impressive, Chase,” she’d said in that sultry temptress voice before sashaying off in her tall red heels.

  So I’d done it.

  I’d painted the entry walls a blood red.

  I’d had no idea at the time that it would be my future, being dipped in that blood, her blood, the blood we shared.

  Gone. Gone. Gone.

  I fired at the wall, again and again, until a picture, our wedding picture, the only picture in the house, crashed to the floor, shattering glass across the hardwood.

  And then I was angry again.

  So fucking angry.

  She’d wanted those floors, too.

  God, was there anything in this house that was me?

  For her. I’d done it all for her.





  I would have cut out my own heart and handed it to her on a silver platter while I watched the last two thumps give way.

  I would have killed hundreds, thousands, millions.

  And it would have still never been enough, would it?

  Not enough.

  Not me.

  Not the house.

  Not my money.

  Not my love.

  I moved to my feet and slowly walked over to the fallen picture, as glass crunched beneath my boots.

  She was grinning up at me, even though our wedding day hadn’t been a happy day. And the sick part?

  I was looking down at her the way I’d always looked at her, with barely restrained awe at her strength, her beauty, the way she took situations and molded them to her will.

  I just never once imagined — I’d end up her victim.

  Instead of a partner.

  Slowly, I picked up the picture and then dropped it again onto the floor, only to lean over and slam my fist into it until I couldn’t see her face, until blood ran down my knuckles, until I felt slices of pain pierce my skin.

  The doorbell buzzed.

  I jerked my head toward the sound and slowly rose to my feet as it opened, and seven De Lange associates walked in, their eyes cold, their movements sluggish as if they knew no matter how slow, how fast, how strong, I would end them. All of them.

  Which was a pity, since in all my rage I wanted to hunt each one of them down until they felt such intense pain that their ancestors cringed in their graves.

  “Didn’t think you guys would show,” I said in a gravelly voice that sounded half-possessive, half-sad, like I’d stayed up all night alternating between crying and cursing her name to the fiery depths of hell.

  Which, I was ashamed to admit, had happened more often than not these past few weeks.

  “Didn’t think we had a choice,” one of them piped up. “When the Capo calls—”

  I’d asked Tex for a favor, and since my wife’s betrayal, he was more than happy to give me whatever I wanted.

  And I wanted them.

  All to myself.

  I nodded toward the living room.

  They followed.

  I even gave them my back, something I’d never done to an enemy before. I was way past the point of caring — because they knew just as much as I did, that since Mil betrayed the Families — we were untouchable.


  We were gods among men.

  And I would exercise my iron fist over their pathetic lives.

  Adrenaline pulsed through my system as I took a seat on the white leather recliner, one of the only pieces of furniture that had been delivered before her untimely death.

  I sat and placed my hands on the armrests as fresh blood slowly dripped down the front and onto the pristine floor.

  The gun in my hand became almost a living extension of me as I pointed it at the men and placed my other palm over it, as though I was resting.

  “Defend yourselves,” I barked.

  One man stepped forward. “We can’t.”

  I leaned back in the chair as I eyed each and every one of them. They had wives, families, friends who would miss them.

  And for the first time in my life…

  The guilt at what I was about to do.

  Was nonexistent.

  “A life for a life,” I whispered before opening fire on the first.

  And drilling bullets, one by one, into each of their skulls until I had seven bodies littering my floor.

  I dropped my gun and picked up my phone. “Seven dead. I need cleanup.”

  Nixon sighed heavily on the other line. “Ours?”

  “Theirs.” The word dripped with hate.

  He hung up on a curse.

  And ten minutes later, Dante was opening the door to my house and shouting orders at his associates.

  “Is it my training that has you acting like a badass, or have you always been a badass?” I wondered aloud.

  He rolled his eyes. “Looking like shit, as always. Have you even showered today?”

  I leveled my gun on him.

  He hung his head and pointed toward the kitchen. “Whiskey?”

  “Where it’s been for the past week.” Where it’s always been.

  “Two glasses?”

  I stared down at the dead bodies, my vision blurring with hatred as the stench of blood filled the air. “Bring the bottle.”


  “Phoenix.” I laughed, even though there was nothing funny about that sick prick. “How to explain…” I sighed. “He has fucking black folders on every single human being on this planet that poses a threat to the Italian scum. Luca Nicolasi made sure that when he left this earth, he left it in the hands of the devil himself. Phoenix De Lange should be your worst nightmare. He would kill his own wife in cold blood, and not even blink if it meant he saved the legacy of the five families. I almost… respect him.” I chuckled. “Almost.”

  — Notes from interview with Agent P, FBI


  My cell buzzed on the nightstand. I glanced over at Bee and felt something; that meant I was still alive.

  Not rotting in hell.

  Not yet.

  I felt.

  I wasn’t numb.

  Not yet. Not yet.

  I clenched my eyes shut and tried to focus on the good things in this miserable existence: my son’s cries, the way he clutched my hand, his tiny fingers wrapping around my thumb.



  Breathe, damn it, just breathe!

  I finally looked down at my phone and saw blood. It wasn’t real. It was never real. My phone wasn’t covered with it, slathered in its wet metallic stickiness, but every time I looked down, that was what I saw.

  No amount of showering could wash away my sins.

  The sins of the dynasty I’d helped build.

  And the one I was going to help destroy.

  I owed him that, at least.

  More than I ever owed her.

  Bitterness threatened to take over the rage as I finally read the text from Nixon.

  Nixon: Seven dead bodies—we need to rein him in before he takes out the entire bloodline.

  My bloodline.

  But not my family.

  I might be De Lange by blood — but I wanted nothing to fucking do with that blood. I was Nicolasi now, through and through. My son… Nicolasi. My wife… Nicolasi.

  And it was time I made the exchange.

  Time I died to my birthright.

  And took what was given to me by Luca, officially ending the blood that ran through my veins, officially shutting out any part of that existence, and making them fugitives.

  I closed my eyes against the numbness that took over. It always took over when I needed to make a choice.

  And all of my choices were hard.

  Life was hard.

  Bee’s hand snaked up my chest and wrapped around my neck as she snuggled closer. I kissed the top of her head and shook away the memories of my sister’s face.

  The blood.

  The calmness that had claimed my soul when I fired the shots.

  And the look on my brother’s face when she glanced at him one last time.

  It was possible to lose love.

  To replace it with so much hate you couldn’t see straight.

  I knew that kind of hate.

  I didn’t wish it on anyone.

  Especially someone who had been the glue that held the five Families together.

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