Page 117 of Vicious Addictions

As I hear those words, a cold realization starts to sink into my gut. “Stella. Fuck.”

“Ding, ding, ding,” Gio bellows. “The second your sister sees that another syndicate has not only initiated a woman into their ranks but is willing to claim her as the boss, Stella will not only want into the Outfit, she’ll fucking demand it. And your mother? She might not have been able to save her sons, but it will be a cold day in hell before she will let her daughters suffer the same fate.”

“In other words, what Gio is saying is to buy some ear mufflers before you come over to the house, kid. Be prepared to start hearing a lot of bickering and fighting at home,” Dom advises, not looking happy either.

“Just like Crane, waltzing in and fuck things up again,” Gio grumbles in frustration.

“That’s not fair. It’s not Victor’s fault. Or Mina’s.”

Gio snorts. “Doesn’t matter. That’s not how your parents will see it. To them, a Crane—even if unintentionally—has yet again managed to fuck up our peace.”

I make my way to the gym to exercise away the tension clawing at me. The rhythmic thud of fists hitting a bag greets me the instant I step inside. Marcello is already here, beads of sweat rolling down his temple as he pummels the heavy bag as if it personally wronged him.

“Grandpa should just set up a cot for you in the back,” I call out. “You basically live here.”

“He won’t let me,” Marcello grunts between strikes. “I already asked.”

“Of course you did.” I chuckle while rolling my shoulders back. “Mind holding the bag for me? I need to hit something.Like yesterday.”

Marcello stills, his eyes narrowing. “What’s wrong?”

“Who said anything is wrong?”

“You’re not the violent type, Jude,” he says, unaware that, in our world, it isn’t exactly a good thing to say out loud—especially to amade man.“If you need to punch something so bad, it means something’s eating at you. So, what is it? Maybe I can help.”

“Am I that easy to read?” I ask in jest.

“Only to the people who know you best.”

A small smile crests my lips at his remark.

Marcello is one of the few people I trust implicitly. Even when he looks like he’s being possessed by some demonic power, I know that I can trust him with my life.

“Tell me,” he urges on.

“Just fighting ghosts from my past.” I sigh while he helps me to put the gloves on. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

“It’s not nothing. Is it the Bratva? Is that what’s troubling you?”

“I wish,” I mutter in contempt. “But no.”

Marcello watches me carefully, studying me intently as our father is so prone to do.

“Does it have anything to do with the Cranes arriving today?” he asks after a pregnant pause.

“Who told you they were coming to Chicago?” My spine stiffens.

He doesn’t answer.

“Now who’s keeping secrets?” I let out a humorless laugh. “It was either Mom or Stella. They’re the only troublemakers I know who would be whispering Outfit business in your ear.”

Marcello doesn’t deny it. Instead, he just studies me with those sharp eyes of his.

“Punching a bag won’t solve your problems, brother,” he says, moving off-topic.

“This coming from a guy who basically lives at the gym to avoid his.” I scoff.

“I’m not avoiding anything,” he quickly defends. “And Nonno Carmine’s gym isn’t the only place I like to hang out.” He flashes a little, almost secretive, smile. “I like going to the library, too.”

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