Page 27 of The Shadow King's Brother

I pause the footage, the figure in the hood frozen on the screen.

“I don’t know, but what we need to focus on right now is Vinny. Where the hell is he? And what’s he up to?” I say.

“Maybe Vinny isn’t the mastermind here?” Gio says, still scowling at the footage. “It looks like he’s late to the party.”

He’s right, the other figure came first and checked out the safehouse.

Elio’s hand slams down on the desk, the wood shuddering under the force like a tree struck by lightning. “That piece of shit. Of course he is behind it,” he snaps, his eyes burning into the screen. “Like he killed Don, and Mattheo.”

“Easy, buddy,” Gio grunts.

Jackson steps forward, his eyes bloodshot. “H-hic—how?” he spits out. “How is that cockroach Vinny De Luca still alive?”

“I don’t know,” I say, my nails digging into my skin. The urge to do something, to hunt Vinny down and beat him to a pulp, to make him pay, bubbles up like a volcano about to erupt. “He’s not just back. He’s sending a message—like he’s taunting us.”

“Fuckin’ Vinny,” Jackson says, his hand shaking as he tries to grab onto anything that will keep him from shaking.

“He could be just a puppy,” Gio says. “Playing someone else’s pipe?”

“He’s not. Vinny doesn’t work that way,” I say, knowing the words might send Jackson over the edge, if he thinks Vinny killed his wife.

And it’s exactly what happens…

The detective stumbles back as if hit by a physical blow, the color drained from his face, making him look like a ghost that has returned from the dead. “That bastard… That’s him, that’s him, isn’t it?” he says. “He did it, didn’t he? He took her from me! That piece of shit stole her from me,” he shouts, his whole body trembling as he moves closer to the screen, staring at the image as if he is looking at the devil himself.

“Easy,” Elio says.

“Easy?” Jackson bursts out, his whole body vibrating. “Easy? He took Carol, damn it. And he is out there, walking free. You know… that’s who he is, right there. He is behind that fucking Broad Corporation too, I know it. That’s the connection. That’s what I was dreaming about,” he says, his finger pointing at the screen, a sudden sense of clarity in his gaze, like a madman suddenly making sense.

I nod slowly, my gaze locking with his. “I don’t think he killed Carol, Jackson. But he might be involved with that Broad Corporation… I think it’s a shell company for money laundering.”

Elio runs a hand through his hair, his eyes narrowed. “We need to be smart about this. We need to plan,” he says. “He can just be playing us—I know my brother. He might want us to walk into a trap. This could all be a set-up.”

“Plan?” Gio scoffs, his hand caresses the handle of his gun. “What’s there to plan? We get him. We make him pay. This is what we do. We make people pay.”

“No,” Elio says. “We don’t do anything reckless, and we need to think before we act. We can’t act without thinking; we need to be smarter and more careful. We figure out his game first. What does he want? Before we move a finger, we need to know everything.”

“What does he want? He wants to watch us suffer. That’s what he wants,” Gio says.

I agree. That sounds just like Vinny.

“He wants to see what he can take away from us. He wants to watch us fall apart like a tower of cards collapsing. So let’s show him that we are not afraid, that we are ready. Thatwewill tearhimapart,” I say.

My body is vibrating with anger, and I can feel the raw, violent energy rising inside me.

“No, Nica. Now is the time we need to be careful,” Elio says, his eyes fixed on mine, trying to talk me down. “Think ofCeleste, think of everyone.”

“We’ve been careful for too long, Elio. Careful doesn’t work,” I snap. “God knows what else he’s been doing for the last eight months… It’s time to act, not wait, to strike, not to be struck. Enough! I want his head. I will rip it off with my bare hands.” The words come out before I can stop them.

I think about his knife at my entrance, his hands on my body. The memory makes bile rise in my throat, and I gag, my stomach twisting violently. I can still feel the cold press of the blade, the way his fingers gripped me like I was nothing but an object to him.

The sensation of his touch makes my skin crawl. I close my eyes, trying to push the feeling away, but it sticks like oil on my skin, impossible to scrub off. My hands ball into fists, nails digging into my palms as I fight the urge to scream.

Then, Elio’s hands are on me, cupping my face gently. His thumb strokes over my cheek. I can feel the heat of his touch seeping into my skin.

“Don’t get me wrong, Nica. Hewillpay for what he did to you. But without anyone I love getting hurt.” he says softly, trying to reason with me.

He’s right, as always.

---