Page 1 of Vicious Behaviors
Prologue
Marcello
“Promise you’ll call every day?” Stella asks Jude, her expression steady as she tries her best to hide any trace of vulnerability, even if her plea alone gives her away.
“Stella,” our father, Gio, starts gently, “your brother’s going off to college. You know he can’t promise to call every day when he’s got so much studying to do.”
“He can spare five minutes out of his busy schedule to call his sister,” Stella snaps, hands planted firmly on her small hips as she fixes our older brother with a pointed stare. “Isn’t that right?”
“Of course it is,” Jude replies with an easy-going smile. “And I’ll make sure to FaceTime you every Sunday, too. Promise.”
“See, Dad?” Stella rolls her eyes at Gio, earning a chuckle from Dom standing beside him. Only when she turns to Jude, her triumphant smile begins to tremble. “Don’t read too much into this, okay?” she says quickly, before flinging herself into his arms and hugging Jude as tight as possible.
Everyone stills as Stella clings to Jude with everything she has before pulling away just as suddenly. She wipes her eyes, trying to hide the errant tears that dared to make an appearance. She then takes our baby sister, Annamaria, in her arms and walks over to our brother.
“Say goodbye to Jude, Anna. We don’t know the next time we’ll see him again.” Her words hang heavy in the air, drawing quiet frowns from us all, especially from our father, Vincent.
We all know the real reason Jude is going off to college in London, and it has nothing to do with pursuing higher education. It’s about putting an ocean between himself and our parents. His way of standing his ground while also punishing them for not inducting him into the Outfit the minute he turned eighteen last year.
What he’s doing feels cruel, but part of me understands where he’s coming from. Standing up to our parents is no easy feat. Moving to another country just to make a point might seem extreme to most people, but for Jude, it’s probably the only way he can show them they no longer control his future—even if, in reality, they still hold all the strings.
I just wish this wasn’t the hill my brother has chosen to die on. In fact, I wish Jude didn’t want to be amade manat all.
Though I’ve never had the courage to say it to his face, I thinkMammà’s right. Our parents have given us every advantage in life. Enough that we don’t have to follow in their footsteps. We can be anything we want. Anything. So why choose a life where tomorrow is never guaranteed?
But then again, the Outfit is our family’s legacy. Which means it’s also Jude’s birthright.
This life is in his blood. And if that’s the life he wants… then I guess it’s the life that awaits me, too.
I’d follow Jude to the ends of the earth. Even if it means going against our parents’ idealistic vision for our future and picking up the metaphorical syndicate torch.
I keep watching from the sidelines as our four-year-old sister holds onto Jude, too young to understand what’s happening, but sensitive enough to feel the sadness hanging in the air around her. He presses one last kiss on her cheek, his eyes shining with unshed tears—the very same he somehow miraculously manages to hold back. After all, he can’t afford to look like he’s faltering now. My parents wouldn’t hesitate to use even the smallest crack in his armor if it gave them an edge to sway his decision. Not that it would do them any good. Even if Jude misses us terribly, there’s no turning back once he sets his mind on something.
I might not understand his stubbornness, but I do envy his courage to go out into the world on his own.
I’m not as brave. Unlike the rest of my family, boldness has never come easily to me.
Stella’s a year younger, and somehow, she’s always been the fearless one. Even the twins, at just seven years old, carry themselves like they could conquer the world without blinking.
Not me.
Confrontation makes my skin crawl. Being the center of attention? Even worse. I’ve always preferred the background, letting my louder, bolder siblings take the spotlight. The sidelines feel safer. Quieter. More like me.
Anna’s the same.
Mammàsays Annamaria and I take after her mother. Shy pacifists, both of us. She says we’re gentle souls in a family built on fire and iron. However, she’s quick to remind us that our sensitive and kind nature isn’t a weakness. Our grandmother may not have sought out fights, but she faced them when they came.Mammàsays her quiet inner strength helped her surviveall the ugliness she had to endure. The kind of strength that doesn’t need to be loud to be real.
I hope I never have to test that part of myself, though. I hope Annamaria doesn’t either.
After Anna’s goodbye, it’s the twins’ turn to say farewell to our brother. They barrel toward Jude, demanding all sorts of presents for when he gets back. I watch them from the corner of my eye as my gaze drifts toMammà, standing stiffly, as if her heart were breaking but too proud to show it.
Their bond is different from the one the rest of us have with her.Mammàpractically grew up alongside Jude since she was even younger than he is now when she had him. There’s history between them that we don’t share. Maybe that’s why they fight so hard—because they love each other even harder. And for the past year, fighting is all Jude andMammàever seem to do. Shouting matches rooted in love, resentment, and fear.
Mammàdoesn’t want to let her firstborn go without a fight. And Jude doesn’t want to be held back any longer. Neither one is showing signs of conceding.
When the twins finally run out of requests, it’s our fathers’ turn to hold their son one last time, unsure of when—or if—they’ll get the chance to do it again.
Dom steps forward first. He isn’t a man of many words, but the hug he gives Jude says everything. It says that he’ll miss him and wishes he didn’t have to leave just to prove a point. But it also says that he’s proud of him. That he loves him deeply, fiercely, and without question.
