Page 51 of The Shadow King's Brother

I elbow Vinny’s side, knocking him slightly off balance. “Don’t talk to Gio like that.”

“Message received,” he says, catching his breath.

I clap Vinny’s shoulder and nudge my head forward to keep walking.

The suite is opulent. Soft lighting, muted colors, expensive furniture, and the faint, sweet smell of scented napkins. Maria sits in a plush armchair near the window, her face pale but relaxed. Celeste is cradled in her arms, a tiny bundle of swaddled blankets.

“Elio,” Maria says. “Thank you. For everything. This suite, the guards–”

I kneel beside her. Her skin is thin and papery. My eyes turn to the rosy bundle sleeping in her arms. “Anything for her.”

Her gaze shifts to Vinny, standing awkwardly near the doorway.

“Vinny,” Maria whispers. “Come closer.”

Of course. Vinny’s always had a way of winning our Mother’s attention. The way she lights up when he walks into a room, the way she never seems to notice how much he gets away with. Old jealousy stirs inside me, sharp and stinging like a wasp, but I keep it in check—let it simmer quietly beneath the surface.

“Me?” He stutters.

Maria nods in his direction, “Yes, silly.”

My brother hesitates, his gaze flicking nervously between our mother and me. His fingers twitch at his sides, his breathing uneven. I’ve seen him face down a gun without flinching, laugh with blood on his hands—but now? Now, he looks like a man bracing for a bullet he’ll never see coming.

He shuffles forward, his steps slow and hesitant, like a man walking into a minefield. He stops a few feet away from Maria, his hands clasped tightly in front of him.

“Mama…” Vinny begins, his voice thick, barely there. “I…”

Maria cuts him off with a wave of her hand. “I know, Vinny. I know what you want to say. Let’s not do this now, okay? Just… look at her.” She turns Celeste gently in her arms, revealing her tiny, sleeping face.

Vinny stares, eyes wide and unblinking. A muscle ticks in his jaw. I can see it—the way the past crashes into him. Alana. Papa. The life that cracked and never healed.

“Can I… can I hold her?” he croaks.

My jaw tightens. “Be fucking careful. If you hurt her…” The threat coils in the air like smoke—sharp, heavy, deadly.

Maria doesn’t flinch. She keeps her eyes on Vinny, voice soft but firm. “Of course, Tesoro. Come here.”

Vinny takes a step forward, then another. He kneels beside Maria, his movements stiff and awkward. She carefully places Celeste in his arms, guiding his hands to support her tiny body.

For a moment, he stares at her, his eyes glistening.

Is that a fucking tear?

My chest tightens. Vinny doesn’t cry. Not when he shot my Papa dead. Not when Uncle Rocco, who was supposed to babysit us while our parents were out of town, came home drunk and mean, throwing bottles and threats like they were nothing.

The last time I saw him this close to breaking, we were kids, hiding from Rocco in the closet upstairs, his hand clamped over my mouth to keep me quiet.

“Don’t let him hear you,” he’d whispered. “He’ll sober up by morning.”

He swore that night he’d never let anyone see him weak again. And he never did.

Until now.

The hardened shell around him seems to crack, revealing a glimpse of the boy he once was.

“She reminds me of—” Vinny begins, his voice catching in his throat.

“Alana,” I finish for him, the name a shard of glass in my throat. My sister. Our sister. The one we lost. I choke down the emotion, turning away. Don’t let them see you cry.

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