Page 19 of Lucky

“Why what?”

Hasn’t this guy been listening?

The land belongs to the four of us. It’s not like I can sell it on my own just because I want to; it has to be a mutual agreementbetween us, and I’m not sure that my brothers would consider my reason for wanting to do so valid.

“Why I want to sell the land,” I tell him. I say it in a way that tells him I think he’s ridiculous for not knowing what I’m talking about.

“It’s becoming overcrowded,” he says.

A small smile stretches across my face. That’s exactly what I was thinking.It’s where all the bodies are buried.

10

LUCKY

Brando's curses roll through the car like thunderclaps, relentless and charged with frustration. I grip the wheel tighter, the city lights flashing past as I turn back toward the office. The usual hum of traffic feels distant, drowned out by the storm brewing in my head.

We took care of the men who started trouble atIgnite, but the fallout lingers. The club’s revenue has nosedived since that night. Patrons might have been reassured with promises, but I know better than to guarantee peace; I did that once and look where that got us. There will always be some idiot willing to test our patience and challenge our control.

The dashboard glows faintly, the sound of Brando’s tapping fingers breaking through my thoughts. I hadn’t even begun planning my retaliation against Jacklyn Vicci when the call came in—one of our guys shot during a botched robbery. Or so they say. The shooters are rumored to be Vicci men. The name alone is enough to send a jolt through my veins.

Jacklyn Vicci. She’s been a ghost since our meeting days ago. No word, no follow-up. If she’s not behind this, why the silence? My jaw tightens as I piece together the whirlwind of the lastweek. Too much. Too fast. Too clean. I could kick myself for letting her in.

As I step into the conference room, the first thing I notice is Scar's hard gaze—his usual calm is gone, replaced by something colder, sharper. It's not just the news about one of our men being shot that’s got him on edge. It’s the feeling that we're being pulled into a game that none of us really want to play. The Vicci family is never far from trouble, and if they’re involved in this, we could be looking at another war that’ll spill blood on our streets; a war that none of us wants.

"It’s about bloody time," Brando says, his voice low. I know he must be anxious to get home to Mia.

I throw my arms up and shake my head in resigned irritation.

Scarsits at the head of the table, his tall frame and quiet demeanor making him seem almost too calm, but his eyes are sharp, observing everything with that quiet calm he has about him. He doesn't speak unless he has to, but when he does, it's always with the weight of a decision made from years of experience.

Rafi, the baby of the family, runs a hand through his dark hair and leans forward. His eyes are restless, looking for answers as much as anyone else. "What are the chances this was actually a botched robbery?” His voice has a sharp edge, and I can see the concern in his face.

“If they’re Vicci men, you know this isn’t just random,” Brando replies. “No such a thing as too many coincidences. It’s opportunity.”

Brando taps his fingers impatiently on the table. Put a gun in his hand and tell him to go, and he’ll be off in thirty seconds. Brando doesn’t know how to be any other way, but he’s literally just stepped out of a war with his nemesis Frank Falcone; I don’t know that he has the stomach for another battle. "No way thisis a coincidence and the Viccis just happened to be a few yards away when this happened. Someone has to pay for this.”

I don’t take my seat immediately, instead choosing to lean against the wall. My mind is already racing through the possibilities. A robbery gone wrong? Maybe. But it feels too clean. Too thorough. "Scar," I finally say, my voice cutting through the tension. "What’s the word on our guy? Is he going to make it?"

Scar lets out a breath and looks at each of us, his eyes flickering with something darker now. "He’ll live.” He scrunches up his face as a thought occurs to him and watches me carefully. “Didn’t you meet with Jacklyn Vicci a few days ago?”

A ripple of curiosity passes through my brothers. Brando sits up straighter. “Who the fuck is Jacklyn Vicci?”

“The sister,” I reply evenly. “Jack’s twin. And she’s running the family now.”

A stunned silence follows. Brando looks as though I’ve just handed him an unsolvable riddle. “What the hell happened to Jack Vicci?”

“Still figuring that out,” I admit. “But trust me, she’s not just a placeholder.”

Scar’s gaze sharpens. “What have you done to get answers?”

I hold back the full truth—the part where I let lust blind me and got closer to Jacklyn than I should have. “Everything I can,” I reply, keeping my voice steady. “My men are digging, but the Vicci family operates like a fortress. It’s slow work.”

“Then tell them to dig deeper,” Brando snaps.

He settles back into his seat and watches me with sullen eyes, his mind possibly recollecting memories of his own twin. His confusion is a sight to behold. It’s rare that anything confounds him, but it would seem my words have confused the fuck out of him.

“I feel like there’s something bigger than we think at play here,” I tell my brothers. “We need more information, and if the Viccis are involved, we need to tread carefully.”

---