Page 12 of Bound to the Mafia King

He threw his hand back and let out a boisterous laugh. “Still got that humor, boy. It’s been some time. You’ve grown since I last taught you.”

Taught me? The man had some nerve. If what he had done to me was teaching me, then the world was a fucked up place. He had tortured me in ways that no child’s mind should ever be subjected to.

I had buried those memories so far down my head that I had forgotten it had happened. But seeing him again forced that lock open, and they started filtering through.

Blood. There had been so much blood.

“I was very sad to hear about your father.” Vance didn’t even look the slightest bit apologetic. It was no secret that their relationship had soured over the years. “He may not have upheld the Code, but he did raise two lethal men as his sons.”

My stomach curled. The memories of the cell, the wet, the cold, and all that blood. They filtered into my mind, assaulting my thoughts. I tried to push them back, but they kept coming back, each time stronger and louder than the last.

“Look, Valerio, I think maybe it’s time we put the past behind us,” Vance began.

I snapped my neck in his direction, my body filled with fury from his words. “Behind us? You want me to forget all that you did to me? To my family?”

Vance’s eyes widened a fraction. “Valerio…”

I shoved my glass into his chest, successfully staining his white shirt with the cranberry juice.

“Get out of my sight.” I walked away from him and made my way to the exit.

Air. I needed air. My chest felt like it wanted to cave in on itself, and my heart scraped against my ribcage.

I walked down the empty hallway until I came to a door that led out to a balcony.Perfect. Exactly what I needed.

I stumbled onto the empty balcony. The cool New York air whipped against my skin and cooled the heated surface. I walked to the ledge and braced my hand against the edge. The breeze picked up, and the small beads of sweat eased the bunt that torched my skin from all the adrenaline that pumped into my veins. I undid the top button, but my throat still felt like it had fists around it. The oxygen refused to leave my chest no matter how many times I huffed and puffed.

Fuck.

I was spiraling. I could feel it.

You’re my son…

It is what it is, Valerio…

Do you not want to be one of us…

My father’s voice filled my mind and bounced off the inside of my skull.

“Get out of my head, old man.” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to ground myself. My therapist had told me that I needed to find a center when I felt like the world was pulling away from me. Normally, counting would help, but my mind felt too busy for that. I couldn’t even keep a straight thought, let alone which number came after the other.

Shit.

Pull the trigger, Valerio…

Pull the trigger!

My eyes snapped open, and I turned and threw my closed fist to the nearest thing to me—the window. The knuckles broke through the thick glass, and it shattered onto the floor with a loud crash. Surprisingly, I felt no pain in my hand, but I knew that had to do with the adrenaline that pooled into my system.

The voice in my head quietened, the banging drew back, and my body returned to itself. I no longer felt like I was free falling. I was stable, rooted, and secure.

My breathing slowly began to even out as I calmed down from my high. I withdrew my bloodied hand from the small square I had shattered. My eyes darted down to my knuckles, assessing the damage.

“Valerio?” Her eyes were wide, and she looked petrified.

I had seen that look of terror on many faces when they came to meet me. They were often the last looks I would see before I inevitably pulled the trigger. I was used to it. I had become so accustomed to it that the pitiful pleas of mercy didn’t sway me. But seeing that look of terror and fear in her eyes was something I could not stomach.

She feared me. I could see it in her eyes, even after she blinked and forced her true emotions back. It was too late; I had already seen it.

---