Page 5 of Vicious Behaviors
I shake my head, not ready to let that monster crawl to the surface. Sometimes, even thinking about him feels like summoning him into existence. And that can’t happen. Not now, when my father is eyeing me so, craving to see contrition on my part. The monster has its uses, but now is not the time for them.
So I force my mind to go quiet, to erase all trace of him from my thoughts, breathing slowly, and focusing only on each inhale and exhale. Just one of the few tricks I’ve learned to keep him at bay over the years.
Though, to be honest, if he really wants out, there’s not much that can stop him—a fact I’ve learned to live with.
I don’t always know when he’ll push through, but there’s one trigger that never fails. He always takes full control when my family is in danger. That’s the trade I’ve made. And I’ve accepted it. Even made my peace with it. Because at the end of the day, all I have is my family. And I’d do anything for them. Even kill a priest. I’d lay down my life if it meant keeping them safe.
However, this… this feels different. As if my soul should be burning right alongside Father McDonagh. Because even after all I’ve seen and done, I still believe in God. Which means I believe in hell, too. And I know, when my time comes, that’s exactly where I’m headed.
Father McDonagh was almost right in his assessment of me all those years ago. The devil doesn’t just exist. He doesn’t just live inside me. Heisme.
Sensing my darkening mood, Dom places a hand on my shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. It’s meant to be comforting, but it lands heavy, crushing my chest into a pulp.
“You did what you had to,” he says quietly. “He went after Father Torres. And from what Lucky said, he would’ve gone after Enzo next. You saved them both. That’s what matters.”
I nod and then glance toward Vincent, searching for some flicker of agreement. But, as always, he gives nothing away. Just that cold, unreadable stare. The calculating, impervious stare of aCapo dei Capi.
“Boss—”
“Don’t, Marcello,” he cuts in sharply. “Not now. Not when you’ve put us all at risk.”
“Vince,” Dom tries to defend, but is swiftly silenced by my father’s arctic stare.
“I don’t want to hear it.” Vincent shakes his head. “I don’t want to hear excuses or justifications. Because that pile of ash in the oven wasn’t amafioso. He was a man of the cloth. A reveredpriest within the community. His sudden disappearance is going to raise more than a few red flags.”
My head dips, heavy and low, as if I were ten years old again, bracing for another of his long-winded reprimands.
“For the foreseeable future, our family must be more cautious than ever. We can’t afford even a whisper of suspicion. Especially not from you, Marcello. If we’re lucky, this will pass. If not…”
He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t have to. We all know what happens ‘if not.’ What will happen to me if I get caught. And that’s a nightmare neither my father nor I want to come into fruition.
Vincent turns around to walk off, not bothering to stay for the final disposal of the priest’s remains, but freezes mid-step when all our phones ding at once.
I pull my phone out from my pocket, my chest constricting when I see a notification from the cryptic messaging app Enzo and Lucky built when they were just thirteen. It’s the same one we still use to handle business when words are too dangerous to be said out loud.
I click on the app, my blood instantly coming to a boil at the message there.
Lucky: Help! Frankie and Stella have been kidnapped. Hurry!
Below it, a tracker link showing their location.
I look up and see my father’s nostrils flare, eyes still glued to his screen.
“Can I have one day… just one damn day where my children don’t get themselves into trouble?” he grumbles.
He’s out the door before anyone can answer, with Dom and me right on his heels.
We pile into the car, Dom preferring to be behind the wheel while I ride shotgun. My father sits in the back, already barkingcommands to his men on the phone, telling them to meet us at the location on the tracker.
“It looks like they’re heading toward the old, abandoned military airfield,” I say, staring at the GPS tracker on the screen.
Dom slams his foot on the gas, coaxing me to grip the dashboard as the tires screech against the pavement.
However, my dad’s reckless driving isn’t cause for concern. Not when I have bigger problems on the horizon. Because at this very moment, I can feel it… the monster inside me awakening. He’s stirring. Pacing. Hungry.
‘Someone has Stella.’
I know.
