Throne of Power (Throne Duet #1) Read Online Rina Kent

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Erotic, Mafia, New Adult, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Throne Duet Series by Rina Kent
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Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
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When powers clash...

In the mafia world, women don’t reign.
I’m the exception of that rule.
I didn’t choose this life, it chose me.
I have a legacy to protect, a power to snatch, and no one will stop me.
If an arranged marriage is what it’ll take to lead, then so be it.
What I don’t count on is that my chosen husband is a ghost from my past.
Kyle Hunter.
He was once my guard, my protector. Now, he’s after my kingdom.
The road to the throne is paved with thorns, blood, and casualties.
To win, I’ll risk it all.
My heart included.

This book is part of a duet and is not standalone.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Playlist

Throne – Bring Me The Horizon

A Little Wicked – Valerie Broussard

Monsters – Shinedown

Kingdom of Cards – Bad Omens

Start a War – Klergy & Valerie Broussard

I luv that u hate me – Story Untold & Kellin Quinn

Let Down – Dead By Sunrise

Scars – No name faces

Tell Me Why – Dream on Dreamer

Not Afraid to Die – Written by Wolves

Legends Never Die – Solence

Shotgun – Spoon

Far From Any Road – The Handsome Family

I’m a Wanted Man – Royal Deluxe

Cold Blood – Dave Not Dave

Bad Man – Blues Saraceno

This is War – Thirty Seconds to Mars

Dance With The Devil – Breaking Benjamin

Monster – Colours

The Resistance - Skillet

Cut the Cord – Shinedown

Hard to Love – Too Close to Touch

Kerosene – Vanish

You can find the complete playlist on Spotify.

1

Kyle

The truth isn’t what you see. It’s what you make of it.

There’s no such thing as a wholesome truth or a perfect reality. There are people and agendas.

There is peace and war.

There is losing and winning.

I have come a long way in my search for the actual truth—my own truth, the one they stripped me of thirty years ago.

When they made a machine out of me, they never thought it would come back and destroy them from the inside out.

They underestimated me.

I love it when they do that. It means I will have the best time ripping them apart, crunching their bones, and watching blood ooze from all of their holes.

That’s my system, my reality. And no one will be able to stop me.

Not even death.

It can try, but I’ve come too far to be intimidated by something as insignificant as death.

When I go down, I’m taking every last one of them with me, their names and titles included.

If I will be erased from this world, so will they. If I’ve become a shadow, so will they.

This is my resurrection.

I stand in front of the huge mansion in a secluded area in Brooklyn. The walls are high enough that no one can peer over. There are no tall buildings nearby, which is a tactical move to eliminate the threat of snipers. Wires surround the walls’ edges like in a military camp, and several cameras placed at regular intervals along the walls blink red.

If I take a step forward, I’ll be swarmed by guards who won’t hesitate to shoot me a hundred times just to make sure I am indeed finished.

They’re so serious I can’t even play dead with their kind.

When they committed their crimes, they knew they had to hide in palaces like these, palaces where they’re completely safe from the world.

But not from me.

Never from me.

I step forward so I’m directly in front of the gate. It doesn’t open, but as expected, booming, unsubtle footsteps come from behind me. They never learned to cover their tracks as I taught them.

Oh well. I guess you can’t make any soldier into an assassin.

“Put your hands up in the air,” one of the guards booms in a thick Russian accent.

I do as I’m told because, while death doesn’t scare me, it would be a fucking waste if my cause of death were holes in the back. Not only that, the one who would get the credit for killing the legend that is me would be this Russian tool. Fucking shameful, I tell you. I wouldn’t be able to look my godfather in the face anymore.

Not that I have in the past couple of years. But that’s another tragic story not fit for the present.

The sound of a clicking gun comes from behind me before he speaks again. “Hands behind your head and turn around slowly. One wrong move and I will spill your brains on the ground.”

I spin around and, sure enough, there are three of them. Two are holding guns to their sides while their leader, a senior guard with grim features and an asymmetrical mustache that’s more comical than intimidating, is pointing an AK4 in my direction.

His weapon of choice is sure as fuck not comical.

Upon seeing my face, his eyes widen in clear surprise, and he falters for a fraction of a second.

That’s the only opening I need.

I charge forward and elbow him in the throat. The moment his hold loosens on the AK4, I snatch it then pull my gun from my waistband.

The two other soldiers spend a long time pausing in shock. By the time they point their guns at me, I’m already aiming the AK4 and my weapon in their faces.

“Didn’t I tell you a moment of hesitation is all it takes for you to get killed?” I stare at their senior guard, because I recognize him—and his hideous mustache—from before. These are new recruits, looking barely out of their pubescent years.

He curses in Russian then goes back to English. “What are you doing here, Kyle? You couldn’t stay the fuck away?”

“Pay respect to a Vor, peasant.” I smirk as he curses again.


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