Page 69 of Vicious Behaviors
But not today.
As I arrive at my grandfather’s gym later that night, the heat of her stare finds me instantly. Her gaze is always on me. That molten gold gaze that has tormented me since the first time I ever set eyes on it. No matter how hard I try to ignore it, the burn of her stare crawls up my spine until I’m cracking my neck from side to side.
She’s getting bolder. Too bold, maybe. I wonder just how far she’s willing to go to slap those cuffs on me. How deep down the rabbit hole she’ll crawl just to drag me into the light.
‘We should kill her and be done with it.’Of course, the voice would echo my father’s order from this afternoon. The demon in me wants it too much. Wants to bathe in the heat of her blood as it runs between my fingers like liquid fire.
Still, I don’t want to kill her. Not yet. Not until I know exactly how much she knows. I’ve memorized her board well enough to know there is very little on it to tie me to the priest, but that doesn’t mean that’s all she has.
If I deal with her the way my father wants, what’s to stop the FBI from sending someone else? Someone worse. No. I’ll handle Izzie my own way.
‘Don’t be stupid. She’s dangerous to us. She’s dangerous to all of us.’
I bite the inside of my cheek, ignoring the voice, and head to the locker room. A few rounds in the ring should silence him for the night. I need to think. And with the beast inside me always screaming orders, I won’t be able to unless I drown it in sweat and blood.
Without a minute to spare, I get changed and head straight to the ring. No warm-up. No stretches. My limbs have been aching for a fight all day.
The only place I can unleash the monster without setting the whole world on fire is inside that ring. If I leave him unchecked for too long, the evil that’s corrupted my soul might decide to take matters into its own hands. And right now, what he wants is Izzie’s last breath. I can’t let that happen. If the beast wants blood, then blood it will have. But from men who can take it. From men who deserve it.
Not Izzie. Never Izzie.
The minute I step into the ring, I don’t have to say a word.Made menand soldiers alike pause their training, their eyes flicking to each other, waiting to see who’ll step up. Who’ll be the first to try and take down the heir to the Outfit. Some of the men here just want to take me down for bragging rights, while others foam at the mouth for the chance to prove I’m not worthy of the crown.
I know what they say behind my back. That I’m too fucked in the head to lead. That my father made the wrong choice when he claimed me as his successor. That the throne should have always gone to Jude, the worthier brother.
And perhaps they’re right. Maybe my father made the wrong choice. Jude would’ve made a betterCapo dei Capithan me. Of that, I have no doubt.
‘It’s because you don’t want the crown that you’ll make a better king,‘ my father once said, when he decided to take Jude’s birthright away from him to hand over to me.
At first, my response was like everyone else’s. I thought he made a mistake. But then I saw the life Jude built for himself in London. I saw how happy he was, how light he walked without the Outfit’s legacy chained to his ankles.
My father didn’t steal anything from my brother. He gave Jude his freedom with one hand while using his other to curse me. He cursed me with the offer of the crown, knowing full well that the crown in question had long been shattered into a thousand splinters, sharp enough to bleed me dry.
But then again, my father has worn it for over thirty years. He knows exactly what it costs. The price of being king.
Perhaps I should feel flattered that my father thinks I can rise to the challenge. But nothing Vincent Romano does comes from flattery—only meticulous planning. He’s shrewd like that. Calculated. And I should learn to be the same if I’m ever going to be a boss that hiscaposcan actually look up to one day. Becausewhere my father is respected and loved by all, I’m still the one they fear.
I see it in their eyes when they look at me. Fear. Mixed with envy. It’s that fear that drives them to try and prove to my father—while they still can—that I’m unworthy of the title. Unworthy of the crown. Of becomingCapo dei Capi.Which only means the vultures are always coming for me, in every way they can. Vultures who have sworn loyalty to my father. Vultures with badges, cuffs, and iron bars.
Let them come. I won’t be torn down by any man or woman. If the monster inside me hasn’t killed my spirit yet, hasn’t corrupted me entirely, then what could mere mortals possibly do? I’ve lived with enough evil inside me to last a million lifetimes. Men made of bone and flesh don’t scare me. The voice in my head does enough of that on its own.
I stare down at the mat, roll my shoulders back once, then twice, and then look up.
“Who’s first?”
The moment the words leave my mouth, a few men start scrambling toward the ring, like dogs chasing a thrown bone. The largest one beats the others to it, climbing in with too much confidence and not nearly enough sense.
“I’ve been waiting a long time for this,” a guy sneers as he approaches me, his smile all crooked teeth and misplaced pride.
I take him in and recognize him immediately. He’s one of the Fibonacci boys. The eldest, if memory serves.
“It’s Benny, right?”
“It’s Benito, freak. Remember the name ‘cause it’s about to knock you the fuck down.”
Hubris. Just like Gio warned. It’s the downfall of manymade men.And tonight, it’ll be Benny’s.
I don’t need to look around to know we’ve drawn a crowd. Every time I step into this ring, they always gather around. Theyall watch with their breath held, wondering if tonight will be the night the dark prince finally gets his crown knocked clean off.
