Page 3 of Victorious Vice

My grandfather—correction, myfather—remains calm, almost amused, as I stand, panting. He slowly brings his hands together in mock applause.

“Impressive, Vinnie. Now tell me,son, what’s your next move?”

I wipe a smear of blood from my lip and dart to the side table, diving for my gun, but my father steps forward, drawing his own weapon just as I get mine. We’re faced off, our guns aimed at each other’s chests. The room falls into a tense silence.

The man who sired me smirks.

“You won’t do it. You don’t have it in you.”

I tighten my finger on the trigger. “I killed Puzo.”

“Indirectly.” He crinkles his forehead. “I’m not so sure you have the balls to get your own hands dirty.”

“I have nothing left to lose, old man.”

I fire the gun. The bullet slams into my father’s chest, and he stumbles back, a stunned expression crossing his face. He looks down, his hand clutching his suit jacket.

But then I notice.

No blood.

I go to him, rip open his shirt.

Sure enough, a bulletproof vest.

He lets out a cold, dark chuckle. “I’m afraid you’ll find this old man still has a few tricks up his sleeve.” He stares daggers into me from the floor. “Iownyou, Vincent. Your name should be Mario Bianchi, Junior. But I’ll let you keep his name. Consider it a gift from the man who fathered you.” He looks down at his vest, chuckling lightly. “And I won’t punish you for this. In fact, I’m proud of you. I would’ve probably done the same thing in your shoes, which is why I was prepared.”

Rage.

Pure rage. The kind that blurs your vision and roars in your ears, demanding action, any action, just to release the fury burning inside. It’s the kind that makes your hands shake, your body tense, and your thoughts spiral out of control, searching for something—anything—to destroy.

But I hold it in.

I hold it fucking in.

I will never concede.

But at this point, I have to let my grandfather think that I am.

“All right, Grandfather.”

He clears his throat, glaring at me.

I draw in a breath. “Father,” I say. “I’ll be on that plane tonight.”

“Good,” he says. “Your life begins tonight, Vincent. You will see what awaits you.”

1

RAVEN

Several hours earlier…

The service for Vinnie and Savannah’s mother is over. Jared, my bodyguard, and I walk out of the church. We awkwardly dogleg to avoid the receiving line. I don’t want to look at Vinnie. I’m only here because my brother is engaged to the daughter of the deceased.

As we reach the parking lot, I hear a buzz from my purse.

I reach in, but it’s not my normal phone that vibrated.

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