Page 123 of Stricken

I meet his gaze. "I know you don't want to believe, but your own son is ready to kill you for power and money. Despite that, he has regained your favor while I'm cast out. After everything I've done to fix their fuck ups?"

"You're delusional," Sal cries out. "Father, don't listen to this faggot. He's trying to turn you against me."

The slur hangs in the air like a poisonous cloud. I feel the heat rising in my cheeks. My anger is hot and vivid and I can almost picture it.

Tony's voice is dangerous as he speaks to me, "You're a disgrace to the family, Nicola."

Needing something to ground me, I glance at Vlad, his hand still casually resting on that gun on his thigh. He seems so calm, so collected that it makes me so jealous. How does he manage to control his emotions? No wonder Solovey is a name the entire world is scared of. You never know what he's thinking. But I don't have the time to guess. I focus on my uncle. "Is it so important right now whom I choose to be with?" I ask bitterly. "We have more pressing matters at hand. Look where we're at. If you're going to let your prejudice win, then the Morelli family will die with you. Is that what you want for Aunt Chiara? For Viola? They will have no protection."

As if on cue, Vlad's burner buzzes. Everyone's heads are turned to him as he checks the screen.

"Open the door," he tells one of his men.

The Hellhound does as asked but the handle doesn't budge.

Vlad turns to Claudio. "How does it work?"

"It's not safe," the consigliere protects. "I wouldn't."

There's noise on the other side, voices shouting, fists pounding.

"Open the goddamned door!" Vlad repeats louder. "Or I will blow your brains out."

Claudio moves nimbly across the room and paws at the wall, pulling something down. It's hard to see what exactly he's doing since the light is scarce.

The door slides open, creating an entryway in the wall.

Ivan and Hector burst into the room, dragging a bloodied body between them.

The door closes just as fast.

My hand instinctively grips the cold metal of my gun, hidden in the holster close to my body. The weight of it reminds me of the dark path I've chosen to follow. Despite my aversion to firearms, I know I have no choice but to use it if shit hits the fan.

"Caught thispendejo, boss," Hector grits out, addressing Vlad.

Vlad rises from his chair, and stalks toward the guy Ivan and Hector have pinned down. He pulls off the man's mask, grabs his short hair to angle up his face, and studies him. Seemingly satisfied with his inspection, Vlad then glances over at me. A silent question passes between us.Do I know this man?

I offer a slight shake of my head.No, I don't.

Vlad jerks his chin as Ivan yanks at the man's sleeve. The tattoo there is unmistakable—dark ink snaking across tanned skin—a mark of Toro's pack. Yet again, La Alianza's poison oozes into our world.

Rage boils in my veins. My gaze snaps to Salvatore. He's turning shades lighter than paper, sweat dotting his brow. Cowardice coats his aura in rancid fear; he looks ready to collapse under its weight… or piss himself.

I'd gladly watch him succumb to either one.

For once he seems lost for words and I'm low-key enjoying it.

The house is still under attack. I can hear the shots in the distance. And by now, Uncle's own men are part of the game. But we have no time really, and Vlad wastes none of it.

"Talk," he growls. "What do you know about who sent you and why?"

Silence.

"Fine." Vlad cracks his knuckles, and before anyone even has a chance to grasp what would happen next, he sends his fist into the man's jaw. The man's head snaps backward first from the force of the blow, then lolls forward. He coughs, blood spattering the carpet beneath our feet.

"I'll keep hitting until your eyeballs pop," Vlad hisses out, dropping into a crouch for a moment. "So you better tell us who hired you and for what purpose."

"Kill the old man," the assassin rasps out, his hollow eyes swim over to Tony slumped in the chair.

---