Syndicate of Sins

SYNDICATE OF SINS TOXIC PARADISE BOOK 2 MARIE MARAVILLA Copyright © 2023 by Marie Maravilla All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Editing: VB Edits Cover: AS Designs AUTHOR NOTE This book was my life raft these last few months. Scar’s story has been with me from finding out my first book hit a million page reads, to my father’s cancer diagnosis and his eventual passing. I used it as an escape, and it will probably read like that. This book is built on vibes. Maybe it’s the sequel self-doubt, but I worried about this book being as good as Ryan’s, and maybe it’s not, but it is special. —xoxo Marie A LOVE LETTER TO THOSE GRIEVING “ ‘I’m sorry’ is a bullshit condolence. Unworthy of being laid at the feet of someone who’s being consumed by the greedy maw of grief. So instead, I’ll offer up my hope that enough of your tarnished soul survives, so that you may live again.” —Marie Maravilla CONTENTS Trigger/Content Warnings 1. Scar 2. Caleb 3. Niko 4. Scar 5. Scar 6. Caleb 7. Scar 8. Niko 9. Caleb 10. Scar 11. Kenji 12. Scar 13. Kenji 14. Niko 15. Caleb 16. Scar 17. Kenji 18. Scar 19. Niko 20. Scar 21. Scar 22. Scar 23. Niko 24. Kenji 25. Scar 26. Kenji 27. Scar 28. Kenji 29. Scar 30. Kenji 31. Scar 32. Caleb 33. Scar 34. Niko 35. Scar 36. Caleb 37. Scar 38. Scar 39. Caleb 40. Scar 41. Niko 42. Scar 43. Kenji Epilogue City of Salvation Acknowledgments About the Author Also by Marie Maravilla TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNINGS Syndicate of Sins is a mafia romance and is book two in the Toxic Paradise Series. Each book features different couples, all in the same fictional world. The relationship dynamic in this book is a Why Choose, meaning the FMC is involved with more than one man. This book is also rivals to lovers, and they are NOT kind to one another initially. This book revolves around the mafia and criminal organizations, and due to the nature of that, this story is on the darker side of romance. And it is for those 18+ as it contains explicit sex/language, violence, and death. This book is also NOT supposed to be a guide to sexual positions or kinks. Trigger warnings: MMCs are mean to the FMC, graphic torture/death, mentions of human trafficking (this does not occur to the main characters, but it is a subject addressed in this book more than once. Not on the page), mentions of childhood abuse (Not sexual and not on the page), assault, manipulation, misogyny, and abuse. CHAPTER 1 SCAR YUP, SHE’S ALREADY KILLING PEOPLE… Nothing itched quite like dried blood. Well, dried cum was a bitch too. Try as I might to keep my jobs relatively clean, some assholes didn’t give me an option. Like, damn, just because a dress showed off my thighs didn’t mean I wanted them touched. It had worked out fine tonight since my mark’s prints were needed to open the safe. Easier to carry a severed hand than drag a body. Problem was that now I had to walk home looking like an extra from a horror film. The night air carried the sounds of laughter and conversation from citizens none the wiser to the fact that a killer walked among them. Saliva pooled in my mouth from the aromas wafting off the local food vendors’ stalls. I hoped Matsumura’s death was painful because the fucker was keeping me from some of my favorite late-night snacks. It wouldn’t be long before his men were out searching, offering money to anyone with information. The thought had me digging into my pocket for my phone. Tapping into their security network was child’s play, and they still hadn’t discovered the breach. A pixilated video popped up on the screen. The static made it look like the men were in a snowstorm, losing their minds over their deceased leader lying there with a missing limb. There wasn’t any sound, but it was easy enough to tell I’d be in deep shit if I stayed out in the open too long. I tugged at my hood, drawing it farther over my face. Thank God for the poor lighting in this section of the city because my blood-spattered clothing and limp were pretty large red flags. Most of Tokyo was bright and alive, but if you found the right parts, you’d be greeted with my favorite things: darkness and death. Those two held me tight, like a mother’s warm embrace. Not that I’d know what that was like. Keeping my head ducked, I shuffled through the familiar streets, favoring my left side. Every step sent blood seeping into the field dressing. A prickle of irritation ran through me as another round of buzzing went off, making it the fifth call in a row. There was only one person who’d attempt shit like that with me. I rounded the corner of an abandoned alley and ducked into a darkened doorway, holding my breath against the stench of whatever coated the walls and floor. “What? Make it fuckin’ quick,” I snapped. My nerves ratcheted higher as the distant sound of shouts hit my ears. It wasn’t ideal to be here, partly exposed, not fifteen minutes after robbing and murdering a Japanese drug lord. But it was evident he wouldn’t stop calling until I answered. “Bella,” Enzo replied, drawing out the term of affection. His Italian accent was smooth and comforting in my ear. The palm of my hand stung as my nails dug into the calloused flesh, attempting to keep my mind clear and my senses sharp. I hated how he tried to disarm me, acting as if his phone calls weren’t prison sentences.