Page 141 of Vicious Behaviors
Marcello stretches out his free hand to me, and I grab it instinctively.
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for Marcello,” I say with conviction.
“I saw how true that statement was when you came to my house yesterday, unafraid to tell me you were an undercover agent, knowing I could have killed you right there and then. Your love for my son saved your life as well as his,” Vincent says, then adds, “And probably mine, too.”
“I thought…” Marcello stammers, his eyes reddening. “I thought you hated me. I thought you couldn’t love me because of what I had become. Of the painful memories of the past that I might have conjured up for you. But then you put yourself in harm’s way just to save me… and I… I couldn’t wrap my mind around why you would do something like that.” He begins to sob.
“Then I have failed you in more ways than I could have ever imagined. I would gladly stand between you and a firing squad if it meant I could save you. I love you, Marcello. Since the minute your mother placed you in my arms, I have loved you. And I will continue to love you until my eyes shut and my lungs take their last breath.”
Marcello bows his head on his father’s lap and begins to cry uncontrollably, letting all his insecurities, woes, and hurt pour out in this small room. I turn my head away slightly as Vincent sheds his own tears, knowing a man like him would prefer to cry without probing eyes.
I only turn toward them when their tears start to subside. I then watch in complete awe as Vincent brushes Marcello’s hair dotingly, like a loving father would his child. As I silently watchthe two men begin to find their way back to each other through the dark, I feel an immense sense of love and hope.
After today, I have no doubt that they will slowly begin to heal old wounds and reclaim their roles as father and son, stepping back into the bond that has always belonged to them.
Epilogue
Marcello
Two months later
Whenever a life-changing event happens in my family, we always congregate at Big Sal’s mansion. Today is no different.
To the outside world, my parents are throwing a lavish party to celebrate Stella’s college graduation. But to every high-rankingcapoin attendance, it’s for an entirely different reason. We all know it has nothing to do with a diploma being framed and hung on a wall.
The day that Stella is inducted into the Outfit has finally arrived. Today, she will swear our oath. Today, she will bleed on our sacred saint and promise to put the syndicate above all else. She will pledge her fealty and allegiance to everymade manwitnessing the ceremony.
However, that’s not all that will be happening. Stella will officially be the first woman to participate in theomertà,making her induction a historic event that will forever change the face of the Outfit.
Not everyone here is pleased with my sister using her Louboutins to smash through the glass ceiling that decades of mafia patriarchy have worked so hard to impose on her. I see it in their distasteful glares when they think no one’s watching. In the side-eyed glances they throw at one another, and in their cowardly hushed whispers.
Let them talk shit. The minute Stella becomes amade woman,she’ll have them choking on their words.
Furthermore, I have big plans for my sister. Plans that I am not yet ready to divulge, but excited to execute. Plans that will have every naysayer bow down to Stella and kiss her feet just to ensure their own survival.
Yes. Today is a fucking big day, in more ways than one.
“What’s that smirk for?” my love asks, handing me a bottle of water, oblivious to the thoughts in my head.
“Am I smirking? I hadn’t noticed.”
“Liar,” she giggles, slipping under my arm as we both take in the bustling living room. “Hmm,” she hums. “I still can’t get over this sight. The Bureau would have a field day with this crowd.”
“Should my parents have invited them?”
“Not a chance.” She laughs again.
Just a little over two months ago, Izzie was a sworn FBI agent. Yet, looking at her now, no one would ever guess it. She seems too comfortable, too at ease in this mafia setting. As if she’d always belonged here. And she does. Because she belongs with me.
Of course, it wasn’t easy for us to get here. When news spread of my arrest and my father’s shooting, the Outfit was in an uproar. Rumors spread like wildfire—some saying that I had turned snitch, while others blamed the woman I loved for my own undoing.
It took my father, still lying in his hospital bed, to devise a solution that would silence all the noise the syndicate wasmaking. Vincent made it known that Izzie was not merely an FBI agent, but a plant strategically positioned there by him. With her ties to the community and being born and bred on the South Side, it was easy for him to spin the narrative that he had emboldened Izzie early on in her life to do what she needed to get recruited by the FBI and placed in Chicago. This way, he had eyes and ears on the enemy at all times.
It was just bad luck that an unhinged agent decided to go rogue and launch a witch hunt against his successor—me. Worse luck was still the madman obtaining proof of Izzie’s alliance with the Outfit, thereby compromising her position in the Bureau and practically outing her as a syndicate spy. Getting shot was just a misfortune that could easily befall anymade man.
Vincent spun his web of lies so perfectly that no one dared to refute or challenge him. They believed that if their boss was ruthless enough to infiltrate the FBI with a spy, how could they be certain he didn’t have more infiltrators within their own ranks just to see how loyal they were to him?
It was that troubling doubt in their minds that left Izzie and me free to live our lives without the fear of some high-strungcaposeeking retribution for my supposed betrayal.
