Page 150 of Vicious Games

“He came for mine… so I came for him.”

And with that, he walks out, leaving me to clean up his fucking mess.

Two hours later, Frankie’s sitting in my father’s home office, surrounded by me, my fathers and my mother.

This is not how I saw my day ending. But here we are.

“Frances, do you understand everything we’ve just discussed?” my father asks her.

Her face is still pale, her eyes vacant. I doubt she’s heard a word of it.

“Give her some time, Vincent. This is a lot for anyone to process,” my mother says, gently rubbing her back.

“I understand that,tesouro,but we’re dealing with our children’s future here,” my father replies, jaw tight.

“Let me handle this,” my other father, Gio, says, crouching in front of Frankie.

“Frances,” he says softly, watching her closely. “What happened back at Sacred Heart must have been terrifying. I get that. We all do. But Marcello acted in self-defense. He protected his brother. If he hadn’t shown up when he did, who knows what Father Donagh could have done.”

“He…he…would’ve killed Enzo,” Frankie stammers, her eyes still on the floor.

“That’s right.” Gio exhales, relieved that he’s getting through to her. “Marcello was protecting his family.”

Frankie wipes a tear off her cheek and nods.

“Now,” Gio continues, voice gentle but firm, “if the police ask you what you saw, what are you going to tell them?”

“The truth,” she says so quietly, we almost miss it.

“And that truth is?”

“That Father Donagh lost his mind and attacked Father Torres. He was going to hurt Enzo too, but Marcello stopped him.”

“Yes,bella.Yes, he did.” Gio nods, throwing a knowing look toward my father, Vincent. A look that says she’ll say what needs to be said and nothing else.

Not looking satisfied yet, my father Vincent rises from behind his desk and walks over to Frankie. He gently lifts her chin so she’s looking him directly in the eye.

“My son made it very clear to us that you’re important to him. Which means you’re important to me, and to this family. We protect our own. Always. Do you understand that, Frances?”

A single tear rolls down her cheek as she nods. “Yes, sir.”

Vincent relaxes a bit and lets go of her chin.

“Good. I’m glad we had this talk.” He nods before looking at his enforcer who’s been quiet the whole time we’ve been in my father’s office. “Dominic, a word,” my father says before both men leave the room.

No doubt they’re headed off to help Marcello with what’s left of the dead priest’s body.

Good fucking riddance, fucker. I hope you’re burning in hell, you homophobic fuck.

But I can’t think about that now. Frankie is my only concern.

My fathers put on quite a show for Frankie’s benefit, to see where her loyalties lie if push comes to shove, but we all know the cops aren’t getting wind of anything that happened today. As far as the world’s concerned, Father Donagh just… disappeared, never to return.

My father wouldn’t risk Marcello, Enzo, or me—not even for someone I say I care about.

“Can I get you anything?” my mother asks gently. “Some tea, maybe?”

Frankie wipes at her eyes again. “Can I… talk to Lucky? Alone, please?”

---