Page 53 of Prince of Malice

Angelo kisses his teeth. “He’s gone to see the Grecos.”

I clench my fists, and my legs start to shake. My entire body doesn’t know whether to react with anger or fear. “Who told you that?”

“Salvatore Valenti’s son just stormed the Greco castle. They want to make an example of him, so they’re calling on everyone,” he explains. “I heard from some guys going there right now. I know you would want to know.”

“Where?” “Their restaurant downtown. You’re not going down there, are you?”

“Of course I am!” I yell at him. “Give me your keys.”

“No way. You might get yourself killed.”

“If I don’t go, Luca definitely will be.” There’s no time for arguing. I grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him up to my face. “Give me your keys, or I’ll take them myself.”

“Fine,” he relents. “But I’m going, too, and I’m driving.”

I release my grip, and Angelo stumbles to find his balance. I push past him and make my way to his car.

Angelo slams the gas pedal, careening around every corner and speeding through the streets of Montcove, but he’s still not going fast enough.

“Hurry up,” I growl.

Angelo keeps his eyes on the road, doing whatever he can to straighten out to make up for me being the crazy one. “Do you want to crash and burn before we get there?”

I huff to myself. “What the hell was he thinking?”

“I don’t know. He’syourboyfriend.”

“That’s not— I don’t—” I stutter, my thoughts unable to fully form with everything already going on, and Angelo throwing out labels only makes it worse. “Why would he even go there?”

“What would he even want with the Grecos?” Angelo asks.

“They’re trying to edge my family out and get themselves involved with the Valentis,” I explain.

The car screeches onto another block, and the final street to get to the restaurant comes into sight.

“So he’s gone to stop it all by himself?That’s almost romantic.” Angelo laughs aloud.

“Cut the jokes. This is actually serious, Angelo.”

“Fine. Just know that it’s going to be bad when you go in there.”

I turn to face Angelo, glaring at him across in the driver’s seat. “You drove here. You’re coming in there with me. I need backup.”

“What?” He laughs. “I don’t want to get my ass beat.”

“You won’t with me there,” I tell him, no longer asking.

Angelo shakes his head, pulling up in front of the restaurant and abandoning his car there. “Let’s go then.”

Throwing the passenger door open, I dive out and race toward the door to the restaurant, Angelo following close behind me. My entire body feels like it’s collapsing in on itself, and the burden of my anxiety makes my back almost break under its weight. Why couldn’t I be the one to charge headfirst into this restaurant? What has happened to us? He’s the one that’s supposed toclean up aftermymesses. Why did I have to be a bad influence on him? Why couldn’t I get something good from him instead?

If the roles were reversed, I know that no matter how bad it got in there, Luca would come after me, and everything would be okay. Does he feel the same? Can I honestly say that right now as he’s in there, Luca doesn’t have a doubt in the world that I’m outside about to burst through these doors and make everything better?

Why would he? This whole thing has only gone this far because of how badly I screwed up, and fate isn’t even kind enough to make me pay for it.

Maybe he should have just told his father to accept the Grecos’s deal and to leave us to go under. Maybe everything would have turned out okay if our parents never got married in the first place.

I would be drowning right now without him, but he would be fine without me.

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