Page 103 of Vicious Behaviors
“If I found it in His house, then so can you,” he says critically, lifting up his sleeve to show a three-crown crest burnt onto his skin, most likely done by a branding iron. I instantly recognize the Salvatierra Cartel symbol, my eyes flicking to his just as fast. “Like I told you once before, you and I are more similar than you realize. Now, my son… have you come for confession?”
“I have, Father,” I murmur, my gaze drifting up to Christ on the cross before lowering my head. “It’s been,” I pause, counting the years and months since I last confessed to Father McDonagh, “Eleven years and five months since my last confession.”
“That’s a long road to walk alone. Let’s take the first step together. Start wherever your soul tells you to,” Alejandro replies.
“Too long,” I utter. “I… I wasn’t always like this,” I begin. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Tell me when the devil first came to you. Let’s start there.”
I take a deep breath, letting the memories of the past wash over me, gathering up the courage to tell Alejandro about the first time the beast inside me took over my soul. The first time I ever killed someone.
Chapter 22
Marcello
Big Sal’s mansion is buzzing with life for Mom and Dad’s eleventh wedding anniversary. Laughter rises above the soft clink of champagne glasses while the low hum of music floats through the chandelier-lit rooms. Capos from near and wide have come to pay homage to my father and his queen, their polished shoes clicking against marble floors as they arrive in sleek black sedans and sweep through the grand entryway. The men clasp hands in firm greetings, the women air-kiss with painted lips and diamonds glittering beneath the glow of crystal light. Every laugh, every whispered conversation, feels like part of some symphony where my parents are the conductors.
Mom has been running herself ragged, ensuring everything goes down perfectly for their big day. She even brought in a nanny, Ms. Rinaldi, to wrangle me, Stella, Anna, and the twins—though ‘wrangle’ might be an understatement with what she has to put up with. Enzo and Lucky tear around the backyard like wild dogs, while Anna plays in her little patch of garden,following the sparrows with her eyes as if she could will them to land beside her.
Stella and I sit on the porch steps, keeping a vigilant eye on the twins while Ms. Rinaldi is in the bathroom. Or at least, that’s what I’m doing. Stella’s too busy peering through the windows, cataloging every guest inside. Her attention is so wrapped up in the sight of so many capos gathered under one roof that she spares little thought for our siblings, as if it’s a parade to which she refuses to miss a second. Stella’s focus shifts from the party back onto the garden only when we hear Annamaria’s soft sobs.
“Stella,” Anna weeps, hurrying toward us.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I threw my teddy bear for the birds to play with, and now it’s stuck in the tree.” Her lip trembles, my gaze immediately stirring to the offending toy dangling from a high branch.
“Don’t cry, angel. I’ll get it down for you,” I tell her, already stepping forward.
“Don’t even think about it,” Stella warns sharply. “With Jude gone, Dad might ask you to mingle with the guests. You can’t get yourself dirty.”
“And you can?” I arch a brow.
“I’m a girl. They don’t care about me.” She frowns.
“Stella, hurry! Teddy’s all alone!” Anna’s voice wavers again.
“Come here, angel,” I say, scooping Anna into my arms as Stella and I walk toward the tree.
“I’ll get it for you in no time. Don’t cry, okay?” Stella coos, pressing a kiss onto our baby sister’s cheek, while sizing up the climb. “Mom’s going to kill me for this,” she mutters under her breath while taking off her Mary Janes and then wrapping her long, ruby-red hair into a messy bun before tackling the tree trunk. It’s only when she grabs a low-hanging branch to haulherself up that the twins spot what she’s doing and come over to us.
“What the hell are you doing up there, Stella? You’re gonna snap your neck if you fall,” Lucky calls.
“Who says I’m going to fall, cazzo?” She grins, hauling herself up higher. But just as she lifts her leg to balance on the branch, the skirt of her pale pink dress snags on the bark, leaving a large, ugly tear.
“Mammà’s going to be pissed when she sees that,” Enzo mutters, worried.
“So I’ll change,” Stella replies, still climbing.
We watch her on bated breath until she’s close enough to flick the bear loose. Enzo catches it before it hits the ground, handing it to a now-calmed Anna while I wipe her tear-stricken cheeks.
As Stella starts climbing down, her foot slips, entirely missing the branch she previously stepped onto and hitting the grass with a thud.
“Stella!” I shout, rushing over as Anna clings to my neck for support
“Well, that’s going to leave a mark,” Stella laughs, her dress now more brown than pink.
“What is going on out here?!” Ms. Rinaldi’s voice cuts through the air like a blade as she barrels toward us.
