Page 142 of Vicious Behaviors
My father is not only one of the best calculating strategists in the game, but one hell of a poker player, bluffing his way to get the results that he wants. And a fucking amazing Dad to boot.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Izzie says suddenly, pulling my focus back on her. “Professor Montgomery asked if we could move your session from Monday to Wednesday this week. She’s lecturing at Princeton over the weekend and won’t be back until then.”
“I’m fine with that.”
“Are you sure? We could fly to New York if you want to keep the routine.”
“No need. I’m good.” Her shoulders ease when she sees the truth in my eyes.
When Izzie told me she had a few ideas on how to best control my alter, I had no idea she had already been making moves in the background to guarantee I had the best professional help available, while ensuring the Outfit would never find out about it.
Seeking psychological help for any mental illness disorder is still considered a big no-no in my world. The Outfit might not bat an eye if amade manexhibits sociopathic or psychopathic tendencies, but if they see someone suffer from depression or any other mental health issue that requires constant treatment, they are considered a liability that needs to be dealt with and permanently eradicated from the syndicate.
It’s still early days with Professor Montgomery, but therapy has been helpful so far, along with maintaining a steady routine. I still go to the gym every day, as past experience has shown that this helps keep my alter more manageable. Additionally, I’ve introduced meditation and even taken up yoga to help reduce my anxiety, since this is what primarily triggers the alter to surface more than anything else.
It took going to therapy for me to realize which pressure points to avoid to keep my alter caged. Yes, the fucker still loves to whisper in my ear and vocalize his wants and needs, but I no longer feel as compelled to give in to his demands as I once did. This new way of coexisting with him still feels precarious and tentative. Still, at least I feel I’m finally moving in the right direction.
Aside from Izzie, only my immediate family knows the truth about my condition and my therapy sessions. Secrets like these can never get out, not in our world. Anycapoin this room would seize the chance to use it against me.
However, tonight, their attention isn’t on me. It’s on Stella. And by the look on their faces, they hate every second of it.
That’s how fucked up this syndicate life is. They’d rather follow a man under a psychopath’s thumb than a strong woman who could outlead him tenfold. Misogyny at its worst.
And it’s not just us. It’s not just the syndicate or any other criminal organization that feels this way. You only have to turn on the news to see men clinging to the illusion of superiority over women, holding on to the lie that says they alone know how to rule. They think they have the right to dictate women’s roles in society and claim entitlement over not only their choices but also their bodies.
Assholes, the lot of them. They couldn’t survive one day in my sister’s shoes. Or in Izzie’s. Or my mother’s. Until that toxic narrative is purged from society, the women I love will have to blaze the trail for the generations coming behind them.
Stella is doing that today in taking the helm. Holding her head high among the glares and gossip, knowing the precedent she is setting will change the Outfit forever. And I, for one, couldn’t be prouder to stand at her side. Just like I couldn’t be prouder of the woman standing by mine.
Getting fired from the FBI didn’t break Izzie. It just reinvented her. After getting her master’s degree in psychology, Izzie took a job as a research aide for Professor Montgomery at UChicago, studying DID and other mental disorders. Falling in love with me may have warped her sense of right and wrong somewhat, but it also clarified what she would rather be doing with her life. Now she prefers helping people like me rather than locking them up and throwing the key away.
She splits her time between her research and finding new ways to give back to the community. Whether that involves volunteering at the VA hospital, working with veteransbattling PTSD, or teaching self-defense classes at Sacred Heart, mentoring young girls to step into their power.
She still trains at the gym a few nights a week. However, I think that has more to do with ensuringNonno’sgym keeps with the times and doesn’t revert to its testosterone-filled environment.
The Bureau might have cut her loose, but she found a way to thrive, surprising even herself.
Not that I ever doubted her. Like every woman in my life, she’s a loud, impenetrable force to be reckoned with. Well, except Annamaria, perhaps.
My brows pull together as I catch sight of my younger sister across the room. She stands apart from the crowd, staring out the French doors over at the woods beyond. The sad frown on her lips doesn’t sit well with me, and I decide to find out what it’s all about.
“Give me a second,bella.I’ll be right back,” I murmur, kissing Izzie’s forehead before heading toward my youngest sister.
“Penny for your thoughts?” I ask softly once I’ve reached Annamaria. She turns, her sorrowful blue eyes making my chest ache. “What’s wrong, angel?”
She wipes a stray tear and glances over her shoulder at Stella, standing tall beside our parents, greetingcaposand their wives as they arrive.
“Everyone’s found their purpose,” she explains wistfully. “It feels like you’re all leaving me behind.”
I wrap an arm around her shoulders, rubbing gently. “No one’s leaving you, Anna.”
“Yes, you are. You all are,” She gestures toward the others. “Soon Jude will return to London with Mina, and only come home maybe three times a year, if we’re lucky,” she says, herchin tilting toward my older brother with his wife, laughing at something Lucky just said.
My forehead creases at the remark. Ever since I told Jude about my alter, he and Mina have decided to stay stateside to support me however they could. But now that I see the light at the end of the tunnel, they’ll have to go back. Especially since leaving Rolo and Remus to deal with the Firm’s day-to-day business isn’t exactly an ideal situation, unless chaos is suddenly considered good management.
“Even Lucky has his own family now,” Anna continues, my gaze switching from Jude and Mina to land on my jokester of a brother, who has his beloved Frankie tucked under his arm, with Darius grinning widely beside them. “Lucky doesn’t even sleep at home anymore. He’s basically living at Frankie’s now.”
“I didn’t know that,” I admit, since going through my own shit has prevented me from keeping proper tabs on my siblings.
