Page 16 of Vicious Addictions

I step inside my room and shut the door behind me, but something feels… off.

Someone’s been in here.

So that’s what they were up to. I must’ve caught them just as they finished going through my stuff. I’m not even mad about the invasion of privacy. If I had a stranger living under my roof, I’d want to know everything about them, too.

I get it.

And though the twins clearly don’t like me, I can’t fault them for wanting to ensure they protect themselves and their family. Especially their cousin.

They dote on Mina at dinner like it’s their life’s purpose. Anytime their mother even thinks about reprimanding her, one of them is there, ready to defend her.

It reminds me of Marcello and Stella.

My chest tightens as I glance over at my family’s picture frame, yearning to look at their faces, wishing they were here with me. I check my watch and calculate the time difference. By my count, everyone has just come home from Mass and is getting ready to go out for lunch—our family’s Sunday tradition.

After I’ve taken off my wet shirt and pants, I lie on the bed and call home.

Marcello answers on the second ring.

“Hey, little brother. Don’t you look sharp,” I say, smiling, taking in his Sunday best.

“Thanks,” he replies, sheepish as always.

My brother has always been shy. Too sensitive for the world we live in. But lately, there’s been something else—something dimming the light in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

He hesitates, looking away from the phone screen for a split moment. Then, in a small voice, he asks, “Do you believe in the devil, Jude?”

I blink in astonishment. “Where’s this coming from?”

“Father McDonagh’s sermon today. It kinda messed with my head a little.”

I suppress a groan. Of course it did. Father McDonagh is a damn fanatic.

I can get on board with people living their lives by their beliefs and deep faith, but Father McDonagh takes it to the extreme. As far as he’s concerned, everyone is a sinner, and soon we will all burn for it. He preaches fear when most of his parishioners need hope.

However, that’s not even the worst part. Aside from being a damn zealot, he’s also a hypocrite.

At Mass, he preaches that everyone should live a righteous life or suffer in hell for eternity. But behind closed doors, he’s all too happy to receive my father’s donations to the church—a man who doesn’t just dabble in sin and crime but has made a fortune out of it.

“What did he say now?”

“He said the devil only knocks on the doors of the weak and feeble-minded. He said that we either invite him in willingly, or he’s already inside us from the start.”

Fucker.

“He really said that?” I grit out.

Marcello nods. “So… do you believe him?”

I exhale slowly. “No. I believe people—good or bad—make choices. And sometimes good people make bad choices. It’s not about whether we’re born good or evil. It’s about the way we live. The choices we make every day. Does that make sense?”

His shoulders relax slightly.

“I miss you,” he says softly.

“Miss you too, kiddo.”

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