Page 159 of Vicious Addictions

Raffaele looks to be Annamaria’s age and just as blond and blue-eyed as she is. And like the youngest Romano, he also has that natural beauty that will surely break more hearts than mend. Unlike Raffaele, Matteo and Niccolò share the same dark features as their father, but that’s where the resemblance ends. Everything else they must have inherited from their mother.

Though the boys look to be between eighteen and twenty, they have this mysterious and oddly seductive quality about them, one that says they have matured well above their years. And though Niccolò’s expression doesn’t hide his distaste from being summoned to Chicago, it’s Matteo’s pitch-black eyes that continue to cause me concern—they have been fixed on a silent Annamaria this entire time.

I’m about to confront him when Don Carlo’s eyes sparkle up, staring at someone behind us.

“Don Vincenzo!”he all but shouts, slicing through Selene and me to greet his host. Carlo grabs hold of Vincent’s shoulders and plants a peck on his cheek, thanking him again for the honor of inviting them.

Vincent never smiles.

In the ten days I’ve been in Chicago, I can count on one hand the times I’ve seen Jude’s father even smirk. So imagine my surprise when he grins—wide and unwavering—his eyes locked onto Carlo Senior like a predator sizing up its prey.

“Glad you could make it, Don Carlo. Today’s ceremony wouldn’t have been the same without you. I’m eager to begin.”

Then, without another glance, Vincent turns his back on his esteemed guest and steps forward to announce the start of the event. But that grin? It twists into something far darker—a sinister slash of a smile that all but promises the Donato name and all those who hold it will cease to exist by the day’s end.

Chapter 27

Jude

I take advantage of our father being momentarily distracted—his attention fixed on whatever Gio just whispered in his ear while sliding a phone into his coat pocket—and pull Marcello into a quiet corner of the cabin.

“How do you feel?”

“I’m good,” he replies, lowering his eyes to the ground.

“Hey, look at me,” I say, grabbing his shoulders.

Marcello lifts his head, his nervous gaze locking onto mine. And just like that, I don’t see the young man ready to pledge theomertàstanding before me—I see the timidly shy and sensitive little brother who used to trail behind me everywhere I went.

Memories crash into me at full force as I recall watching him sleep in his crib, his tiny fingers curling around mine. Up until I was nine, it had just been me, my mother, and my stepfather, James, the only family I knew. Then Vincent, Giovanni, and Dominic came into my life, and my world suddenly expanded so fast that it took me a while to find my place in it.

However, when Marcello was born, everything clicked. I wasn’t just another piece of the puzzle anymore—I was his big brother. I knew in my bones that was the role I was meant to play.

I’m protective of all my siblings, but Marcello holds a special place in my heart.

Maybe it’s because he was the first brother to enrich our family. Or maybe it’s the bond we built early on before Stella, the twins, and Annamaria came into the picture.

“What?” he chokes out, his nerves laid bare.

I take a slow, steady breath, forcing my expression to stone.

“The minute we step outside this cabin, I need you to do something for me.”

His brows knit together, confusion flickering across his face, a perfectly understandable reaction considering the timing. Why ask him for a favor at the eleventh hour when he’s moments away from being initiated?

I don’t give him a chance to question it. Instead, I lean in, pressing my temple against his, shutting my eyes as I tighten my grip on his shoulders.

“Whatever is the place you go to—the one where you hide, and the devil comes out—I need you to go there now.” I don’t even need to look at him to know that my words set off all kinds of alarms in his head. “There are over a hundred men outside this cabin, waiting to hear you pledge your life to the Outfit. Most of them are veterans, highly esteemed syndicate men. But some are not.” I pause for emphasis. “Today, our father has put you in an unforgiving position. Out there, every move you make will be under scrutiny. Some will watch with pride. Others will be looking for cracks in your armor. They want to see weakness, Marcello. Because the minute they do, a dangerous thought will take root inside their cruel and ruthless hearts. One that whispers maybe ourfamigliaisn’t as infallible as we claim. That maybe we aren’t as indispensable or as indestructible as we’ve made them believe. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”

“You’re saying that the Outfit is only as strong as its weakest link.”

“Yes,” I exhale, placing my hand on the back of his head to press his forehead tighter to mine. “Do not be that link, brother. Today, you become amade man.Show them what it means to be madeanda Romano.”

I then let him go and take one whole step back.

When Marcello looks up at me, his blue eyes shift into a darker shade, his boyish features disappearing before my very eyes, turning into strong lines and sharp angles, perfectly accompanying the vacant stare in his dead eyes.

My soul dies a little, knowing that I’m forcing him to become this monster—the same one that must torment him so. Still, I would rather haveitface the savages that await us outside than the real Marcello.

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