Page 90 of Veil of Vengeance

“What the fuck do you mean by your uncles are planning a coup?” I growl.

His eyes bug out of their sockets, and I loosen my grip a little.

“I swear, I came to you as soon as I found out. They want to get rid of you and replace you with someone else,” he chokes out. I search his face for any signs of deception, appeased when I find none. ?

I drop my hand from his neck, and Vince stumbles to the floor.

“You didn’t tell me shit, and if I find out that you ran your mouth to anyone else, I’ll start with your tongue. Come by my office after the meeting,” I order him as Romiro and I make our way toward the spiral staircase.

Bring it on, fuckers. We’re only going to have a field day with them. I give Romiro a twisted smile as we trod down the stairs. Game time.

The End

CHAPTER 20 (ELI’S POV)

EMILIANO

It’s been three months. Three fucking months. Three fucking months of pure torture, agonizing pain.

“You need to stop watching everything they post about her. If you’re not stalking her on social media, you’ve been tasking Matteo with hacking the security system of every place she could be at and watching her. It's unhealthy, Eli,” Romiro says, but I ignore him as I watch the stupid date Valentina’s family set up for her with her fiancé. They have been sitting at their table for half an hour, barely exchanging a couple of sentences.

“Are you seriously going to ignore what he just said?” Lucio asks, his hand reaching for the laptop to close the lid.

I smack his hand away, looking at them as I snarl, “Mind your fucking business. The both of you.”

They both sigh and look at each other before Romiro speaks up again. “If you wanted her this badly, why did you give her up?”

“Because she wanted to go back; she wanted to get away from me. I won’t have her resent me for holding her back. And it’s not a want, Romiro. It’s a need, an obsession. She’s everything, and without her, everything else is meaningless. If you can’t get that, then mind your fucking business.”

I slam my palm on my desk, causing my empty cup of coffee to tip over and land sideways. My eyes snap to the screen when I see movement. They’re leaving. And he has his fucking hand on the small of her back. I’m crushing that hand and stuffing it right up his Colombian ass.

I make my way toward my office doors, ignoring both Lucio’s and Romiro’s questions. Their footsteps are loud as they follow me into the kitchen. “Ma wants to see you; you’ve been in New York for four months, and she hasn’t even heard a peep from you,” Lucio says from behind me.

I open my cooler, grabbing the two-hundred-year-old Scotch. Lucio, of course, does something stupid and goes to grab it from me.

“Fuck off, Lucio,” I say as I place it on the counter and grab one of my tumblers.

“All you do is drink alcohol or coffee and watch the CCTV footage you can get your hands on. It's not healthy,” Romiro reasons. I don’t respond, instead chugging back the Scotch. I wipe my mouth with the back of my sleeve and go to pour some more, when Lucio grabs the Scotch and pours it down the drain.

I lunge at him, popping his jaw with a right hook, causing him to drop to the floor with a thud. Romiro tries to pull us off each other, but we pummel each other’s faces till we’re both bleeding and our knuckles are busted. I finally get off my brother and extend my hand for him to get up. He takes it, laughing like the maniac he is. Shaking my head, I walk toward the cupboard near the sink and grab the first aid kit. I slide Lucio some band-aids, disinfectant, and gauze for his fists.

“What the fuck do you idiots suggest, then? Because I’m not going to stop watching her unless she’s by my side where she belongs,” I say, as I wrap my busted knuckles. Romiro leans on the kitchen island, watching me before he sighs and runs a hand through his blond curls.

“First off, you need to get yourself together. You look like death is on your doorstep. You need to keep up with your training. You’re the fucking Capo, for the love of God. Second of all, there’s talk about the Scorpion having an affair with his family’s lawyer, who's also his stepMom’s cousin,” Romiro tells me. I turn to look at him and try to recoup my thoughts. What the fuck was Moretti thinking giving his daughter to a piece of shit like that.

“Get me Guerrero on the phone,” I say before making my way down the hall, toward my room.

“Wait, what?” Romiro shouts behind me, and I turn to look at him.

“I said get me Nicholas Guerrero on the fucking phone.”

I don’t wait for an answer as I enter my room and close the door.

* * *

A week later

It’s about time that my family moves back to New York where we belong. Romiro and I are waiting in the limo for Ma and my siblings. It’s early January, so the weather still has a bite to it. It’s been snowing in New York city for the past couple of days, and to say that I feel like shit would be an understatement.

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