Page 104 of Victorious Vice

“No, but I can attempt to rectify some of its consequences.” He meets my gaze squarely. “I understand if you hate me for what I’ve done.”

“Hate is a strong word, Mario,” I reply evenly, swallowing back my emotions. “It’s also a wasteful one. I’d rather spend my energy ensuring that the cycle ends with me.”

35

RAVEN

After dinner, I find myself thinking about ways to sneak out of my parents’ home. Get a car. Drive to Austin to see Vinnie.

But he’s told me to stay away.

Besides, he’s married now.

I don’t for a moment believe he loves Daniela. In fact, I believe him when he says they haven’t consummated the marriage.

My thoughts go to Belinda, the lovely little girl who Vinnie is supposed to marry when she turns eighteen. The little girl who is pleading for help.

I wish I could do something for her.

But here I am, trapped.

Though I beat cancer, and I’m no longer trapped in the hospital, I am no less trapped.

Jared, of course, is hovering.

My mother’s out on the deck having a glass of wine. Robin has left to go to her own home.

I decide to go outside and sit with my mother.

Jared follows me, of course.

I turn to him. “I’d really like to talk to my mother alone.”

He nods. “I’ll go out of earshot.” He walks off the deck, toward the pool house, where he takes a seat on one of the Adirondack chairs near the entrance to the pool.

And he watches.

“He’s driving me slowly into madness,” I say to my mother.

Mom reaches over to my shoulder and squeezes it. “That doesn’t matter, Raven. What matters is that you’re safe. And Falcon, Leif, and your father believe you need Jared.”

“Yes, I know.”

She takes a sip of her wine. “I’ve seen one of my children go to prison. Another nearly lose her battle to cancer. And now this.” She shakily takes another sip. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”

I sigh. Then I stand, walk over to the outdoor bar, and pour myself a glass of the red wine my mother’s drinking. Yes, I’m still on medication.

And I don’t fucking care.

I take a sip.

And it’s delicious.

It’s nothing fancy, just a Côtes du Rhône from France, but it’s been so long since I let myself have a drink of wine. I return and sit next to my mother.

“You shouldn’t be drinking,” she says.

“Maybe not,” I say. “But one glass of wine isn’t going to change anything. You remember our trip to wine country?”

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