Page 5 of Lucky

“Maybe,Luciano Gatti, you came here for something else entirely. You just don’t know it yet.”

She gives me a weak smile before she starts to walk away, and I have to pick my jaw off the ground at her brazenness.

“I didn’t catch your name,” I call after her as she’s almost at the door. She doesn’t turn as she shoots off one last repartee before stepping through the door.

“Why, it’s Jacklyn Vicci, of course.”

And just as she disappears through the door, I realize I didn’t even get what I came here for.

3

JACKLYN

Ilift the spoon to Jack’s mouth and urge him to eat. Chicken corn soup. It was always his favorite as a child. His dark eyes, so similar to mine, look through me. His lip tips at one end, a crooked, semi-permanent smile that never leaves his face.

Jack is what people in the medical field refer to as a miracle. He was pronounced clinically dead for four minutes and thirty-eight seconds after he was shot, and doctors had all but given up on him. But I refused to let him go, even though all indications were that he would never wake, would never live his life again as a normal, functioning human being. The odds were stacked against him, and life support was turned off. Then miraculously, even as his skin had started to turn pasty and his body had started to harden, he woke up. And I’d never been more grateful for anything in my life.

We still don’t know who shot Jack. I’ve made it my life’s mission to find the fucker and put him in an early grave. But not before I unleash on him and make him suffer the same way that he’s made my brother suffer. The same way he’s tortured me and deprived me of my one and only sibling.

There isn’t a flicker of emotion on his face as I continue to feed him and tell him all about my day. This is our daily ritual; the nurses look after his needs throughout the day, and I check in whenever I can. At night, I feed him his dinner as we sit together and catch up. I know he must be in there somewhere, hearing me, feeling me. I know he’s not lost to me completely. Marco seems to think I’m delusional, but I know I don’t imagine the way his hand squeezes mine when I ask him a question. He’s trapped inside his own body, and even though doctors have told us it’s useless, I’m determined to release him from the shackles of his prison.

“I saw Luciano Gatti today,” I tell him. “Handsome bastard. You can imagine his surprise when I turned up at the meeting instead of Jack Vicci.”

I chuckle to myself, pretend that Jack is sharing a laugh with me. His curled lip turns up ever so slightly. I don’t imagine that, either.

I heap another spoonful into his mouth before I continue.

“Of course, I didn’t think there was a need to tell him that we’re twins. To tell him…what happened. Even though…I know I can tell you anything, Jack. It gets so lonely sometimes sitting in that chair. I don’t know who to trust, who to put my faith in. But Luciano…it was the oddest thing, but stepping into that room felt like I was stepping into the arms of an old friend.”

I scrape the spoon against the plate; Jack likes that. He always had a habit of doing that, and I know that me doing it now gives him a sense of familiarity. It reminds him that he still belongs to our world.

Jack opens his mouth, trying to say something, but he only emits a squeak, his lips twitching awkwardly as his words are forced back and he settles back into his chair with a frustrated sigh. I set the plate down and take his hand, holding it in my own.

“What are you trying to tell me, buddy?”

He squeezes my hand, then squeezes his eyes shut in a tight blink. He agrees with me. Something I’ve said has touched him and he’s trying to tell me that he agrees. That’s as far as my interpretation of his actions will take me, however, even as a sense of calm washes over me. I’m so grateful that he’s still with me, no matter his condition. I could live with him this way for the rest of my life, so long as he is here with me.

“He doesn’t like to be called Luciano, by the way. Got really feisty when I did that. Told me to call him Lucky. It’s about time we had some luck in our lives, don’t you think, Jack?”

The cold,sterile scent of the office is almost suffocating as I survey the space from behind the polished oak desk. The silence of the room only amplifies the pressure weighing down on my shoulders. The air is thick with tension—thick with danger.

I lean back in my chair, crossing my legs at the ankles as I watch Marco adjust the glass in his hand. The amber liquid inside catches the dim light, but it’s the reflection of the light in his eyes that interests me more. Marco is loyal. He’s always been loyal. But loyalty can be a dangerous thing when it’s accompanied by obsession.

I let the thought hang in the air for a moment, but only for a second. I don’t have time for romantic distractions.

I think about Jack. About the man who ruled before me. The man who had the world at his feet and the blood of enemies and allies alike on his hands. That was until he was gunned down in an alley behind his favorite restaurant.

I grip the edge of the desk, my nails biting into the wood. Jack, once a warrior in a suit, is now a shadow of himself.Confined to a wheelchair. His once sharp eyes are dull, his once commanding voice reduced to slurred words. The man who stood tall for the Vicci family now needs help just to feed himself.

I won’t let him go. I can’t. I love my brother. More than anything in this world. But I also know the truth of this world. Power isn’t just about loyalty. Power is about control. And right now, I’m the one holding the reins. And it’s not easy. The responsibility of steering this family to greatness weighs heavily on my shoulders. First my father; he died trying to get this family to the heights it deserved, clawing his way from the bottom up. Then my brother, cut down in a hail of bullets, a miracle that he’s still alive considering the brain injury he sustained trying to protect what’s ours.

“I need to know who’s got the attention of Seattle,” I say casually, my low voice cutting through the silence like a blade. I don’t need to raise my voice to command authority. Marco looks up, his eyes flicking to mine, and I see the hesitation there. He knows what I’m talking about. Someone in our family is making noise, and I don’t like the attention it’s bringing us. It’s both unwanted and unwarranted.

“You have men that are loyal to you to the death,” he murmurs, setting the glass down with a quiet clink. “And the Gattis... you never should’ve taken that meeting with Gatti. I advised you against it yet still you went against my orders.”

“Yourorders?” I interrupt, my words sharp as a knife. My gaze hardens. Sometimes Marco forgets who’s in charge. Like now. He should know by now that I take orders from no-one. I am my own person, and I command this family the way I see fit. “Some of my own men are ready to turn on me. They want blood, Marco. They want revenge. They’re trying to drag us into a war that has nothing to do with us.”

“They’re hurt. They lost some of their family members in that war.”

---