Page 149 of Vicious Games

His stare is vacant and detached, almost like he doesn’t even see Enzo and I at all.

“Marcello! Drop the fucking candlestick!” I shout.

That seems to snap him out of it. The weapon clatters to the ground with a chilling thud, but my brother remains frozen to the spot.

I don’t have time to dwell on his wellbeing. Not with the likelihood that someone heard all the screaming and shouting.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

“I don’t think he’s breathing,” Enzo sobs, still cradling Alejandro’s head in his lap.

Before I can move, Marcello is already on his knees, checking Alejandro’s pulse.

“He’s alive. You need to get him to a hospital,” Marcello says, sounding like he’s back in control of his senses again.

“Oh, is that what we have to do, asshole? What about this dipshit right here?” I shout, kicking the dead priest in the shins. “What do we do with his body?”

“Call Dad,” Marcello replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Which one,stronzo?The scary one? The really scary one? Or the really fucking terrifying one who’s going to have all our asses for this?!”

“Keep your voice down,” he says, his tone flat and emotionless.

“How the fuck am I supposed to do that when, at any minute, someone could walk in and see this shit?!”

Marcello doesn’t answer. Instead, he walks over to the altar and yanks off the altar cloth.

“Clean the blood while I wrap him up.”

I just stare as he lays the priest on the cloth and rolls him up—burrito style.

This fucker’s done this before.

Maybe not killed a priest, per se, but he’s definitely cleaned up a body or two. Comes with the job description when you’re the Outfit’s enforcer, I guess.

Still, this is my first rodeo dealing with a dead body, so excuse me if I lose my shit a little.

“Lucky,” he growls, eyeing the pool of blood and brain matter on the floor.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I heard you.” I grab whatever I can to soak up the blood and bits off the floor while Marcello hauls the priest over his shoulder like he’s taking out the trash.

“I’ll call our father. You two take care of him,” he orders, nodding at Alejandro, who’s still unconscious.

But just as Marcello turns to leave, I watch him freeze again.

I turn around to see what he’s staring at only to find Frankie standing at the back of the chapel. Shaking. Eyes wide. Pale as a ghost.

Fuck.

“Frankie, baby—”

“You… you… killed him,” she utters softly, obviously in shock.

Marcello looks at her, then at the body slung over his shoulder.

---