Page 24 of Lucky

I’d already updated my brothers on this latest development when the video hit my inbox. Even before they watched it, they’d all been skeptical. Afterward? Their reaction was the same—unanimous and dismissive. The video was doctored. That was the narrative they kept throwing around, as if denying its authenticity could erase what we’d just seen.

It was Brando’s idea to authenticate the executions. He suggested I take up Jacklyn Vicci’s offer, retrieve the bodies she mentioned, and confirm the truth for myself. He didn’t say it outright, but I could see the doubt in his eyes, the same doubt the rest of them shared: this was some kind of elaborate ploy, smoke and mirrors to make us believe she was the ruthless force she claimed to be. For whatever reason.

And so I did.

I drove out to the address she’d directed me to, the air heavy with the kind of stillness that only exists in places meant for quiet, violent work. The bodies were there, just as she’d promised—wrapped tightly, their fates undeniable even before I pulled back the plastic. The proof was cold, visceral, and absolute.

Jacklyn Vicci is a killer.

I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. I’m not sure I feel anything at all. It’s not like I’ve got any moral high ground here—I’ve gotmy own sins, my own body count. But knowing her body count? Knowing she has the will to see something like this through?

That’s different.

The rational part of me knows it should be terrifying. It is terrifying. But the other part—the darker, more primal part? That part can’t stop playing the video in my head, over and over again. The sharpness in her eyes, like the slightest hesitation would’ve been beneath her. She didn’t just own the moment—she commanded it.

I don’t know if it’s respect, admiration, or just my raging hard-on, but watching her wield that kind of power stirs something in me I can’t explain. There’s something intoxicating about a woman who knows exactly what she’s capable of and doesn’t flinch in the face of it.

I slept with her.

That fact hits differently now, like a punch to the gut and a jolt of adrenaline all at once. She’s lethal in ways I didn’t fully comprehend when I had my hands on her, when her body was pressed against mine and her name was a prayer on my lips. And now? Knowing what she’s capable of doesn’t make her any less desirable—it makes her more.

The thought unsettles me as much as it excites me.

There’s a dark allure in Jacklyn Vicci, one I can’t seem to shake, no matter how much sense I try to make of it. Maybe it’s the way she’s utterly in control of herself, the way she doesn’t flinch when the stakes are high. Or maybe it’s her audacity—her ability to look me, look anyone, in the eye and dare them to question her authority.

That kind of confidence, that kind of raw, unapologetic power—it’s a drug. And I’m already hooked.

She’s a killer.

Mykiller.

I don’t know what I’ll tell my brothers when I get back. Because the truth is, Jacklyn Vicci isn’t just a player in the looming war. She’s a goddamn queen, and now I know exactly how far she’ll go to protect her throne.

I should be afraid of her.

But instead, all I can think about is how much I want her again.

I pullmy phone from my pocket and unlock it with the familiar swipe across the screen. My thumb hovers for a second over the call button. This isn’t the first time I’ve spoken with her, I remind myself—but it feels like it should be. There's something different in the air tonight. Something... heavier.

I pull up my log and press dial.

She answers on the third ring.

“Luciano,” she purrs, although there’s a demure lilt to her voice. “To what…do I owe this pleasure?”

“I’m outside your front gate,” I tell her.

The line crackles for a moment, and then her voice carries down the line. “Aha. Come to admire my handiwork?”

“I didn’t think you had it in you,” I tell her. My words are blunt, but they carry weight. There’s no shame in honesty between rivals, especially when we come from the same blood-soaked world.

“I’m sure you’ll come to realize how wrong you were about my capabilities.”

There’s an underlying threat in her words that makes me snicker internally. I don’t care how damn courageous she is with a gun; I’m better.

I lean back into the headrest, my eyes narrowing as I stare at her compound, studying every inch of the tall, forbidding gates that separate us. They look like they’ve been designed to keep people out, but I know better. A place like this isn’t built to keep people out—it’s built to keep people in. People like her.

“I may have underestimated you a little,” I say, finally admitting to the weight of my own uncertainty.

---