Page 103 of His Dark Vendetta

Rage coursed through my veins as surely as the blood that kept me alive. Heat shone through my eyes, and my fangs descended. Fully turned and ready to fight.

Matteo pounded the heavy bag. Civilians sparred in the ring. More lifted in the weight room. Vito tracked my entrance from behind his desk.

“Where’s Marco?” I unzipped my hoodie and tossed it on a bench.

The two men in the ring paused long enough to spare me a glance. Matteo backed off the heavy bag. Vito got up and made his way across the gym.

“You better cool down, boss,” he said.

The calm in Vito’s gruff voice sent heat straight to my eyes, making them flare with vengeful fury. “Dove! È! Marco!”

“Qui!” My uncle’s voice rang through the gym.

I spun around.

Marco walked out of the locker room in gym shoes and boxing shorts, taping his knuckles. “Cosa vuoi, Luca?”

“You know what I want. I want what you owe me. I want what you owe my father.”

He turned his attention to the ring and lifted his chin at the two men gaping at us. They scrambled out.

He finished his wrap with fluid, automatic motions. “You sure you want to do this?” he asked, nonchalant.

I took off my shirt, tossed it on the bench, and grabbed a roll of tape. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

Vito grabbed my biceps. “Don’t do this, Luca. This isn’t what you want. Think of Gina.”

I jerked my arm out of his grip and glared. “I’m thinking of my father.” I bit the edge of the tape, ripped it, and started wrapping my other hand.

He shook his head and backed off, disappointment evident in the downturn of his mouth.

Marco watched me from the corner of the ring. I finished taping, tossed the roll onto the bench, and didn’t waste any time. I climbed between the ropes and threw up my guard, dancing on the balls of my feet. Rage fueled each hasty movement.

He stepped forward, arms at his sides, stoic and impenetrable. “I’m going to give you one for free. One punch to get it out of your system. But I won’t hold back after that, capisce?”

“Arrogant prick.” The words flew as quickly as my right cross and hit Marco with an audible crack. Blood sprayed and splattered the mat. It dripped down his face, and his eyes flared to life.

“Fucking idiot,” Vito grumbled from the ropes and tossed Marco a towel.

Marco’s eyes blazed an angry red as deep in color as the blood he wiped from his broken nose. “Feel better?” he asked.

“A little,” I said, still bouncing on my feet. I bared my fangs, and with a surge of power, they sharpened to their full length. “But I’ll feel a hell of a lot better after I break the rest of your face.”

Marco snorted and shook his head. “Fucking hothead,” he grumbled. “I thought Vinnie beat it out of you.” He brought up his guard. “Sounds like you need another lesson.”

I threw up my fists in just enough time to block Marco’s wicked left hook. The punch struck my forearm like a battering ram. Christ, he was fast. But so was I. And bigger after all the hours I’d spent in Vito’s gym. I went after him in a fury, a series of jabs ending in an uppercut that Vito once told me was as powerful as Marco’s. He blocked every punch.

My power flowed freely, something I hadn’t allowed since my twenties. It surged with each beat of my heart, pumping strength and speed into my muscles, and every impact between my fists and my uncle’s skin tore down walls I held in place with unwavering control.

He handed me over to Vinnie, left me to be tortured like some common thug.

I went at him from a different angle. Jab. Jab. Marco blocked the punches, and I danced away.

And for what? For trying to avenge my father? For trying to avenge his best friend? His brother?

I lunged, threw a quick left cross and a right hook. Block. Block. His red stare never wavered, but he wasn’t striking back.

I bared my fangs and screamed. “Fight me! Fight me, goddammit! Why won’t you fucking fight me?”

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