Page 20 of Vicious Behaviors (The Next Vicious Generation #3)

Marcello

“Marcello… Marcello… Mar?” Stella’s voice drifts through the fog of memories of the past as she gently nudges my shoulder to awaken me.

I force my eyes open, the last remnants of a nightmare still clinging to the edges of my mind like smoke.

“Hey,” I murmur.

“Hey yourself.” She chuckles. “Out of all the places to crash, I didn’t expect to find you napping in my school library.”

“Seemed like as good a place as any,” I mutter.

“Funny.” She laughs, but the smile slips from her face as she glances down at the books spread out on the table in front of me.

She reads the titles aloud with a raised brow as she moves them about on the table.

“ Understanding Schizophrenia. Living with Dissociative Identity Disorder. The Divided Self. An Unquiet Mind. Are you taking a psych class I don’t know about, or is this your idea of light reading?

” she asks, picking up the last book and flipping through it.

I don’t answer. Instead, I get up from my seat and gently take the book out of her hands. She frowns, but I ignore it, gathering the rest of the stack.

When I was old enough to realize I wasn’t like everyone else, I started researching on my own, hoping that somewhere in these books I’d find an answer. A cure. A way to cast the devil out of me for good.

By the time I was seventeen, I had read every book about the subject in the Chicago Public Library.

When that wasn’t enough, I started sneaking into university libraries, like UChicago.

I’ve downloaded audiobooks, and my Kindle app is packed with titles on the subject.

If I could get my hands on it and it was even remotely relevant, I’d read it.

So far, none of it has helped. Not in any meaningful way.

“You shouldn’t be reading this stuff, Mar. You need to talk to someone. A real professional. A book just won’t cut it.”

I snort. “You sound like Mom.”

“I don’t care. And don’t you dare tell her I said this, but… she’s right.”

“Stella,” I grumble, slipping on my jacket and heading toward the checkout counter.

“What? She is.”

“No, she’s not,” I say under my breath. “First of all, she has no idea what I’m really going through, and secondly, you know as well as I do that people like us don’t do therapy.”

She lets out a loud exhale, frustration clear in her face. “That’s a stupid rule.”

“It’s a rule that keeps our family safe. It’s not stupid.”

“I’m sure Dad would say yes if you asked him.”

“I’m not asking.”

If she only knew that our father was the one who made it very clear I couldn’t seek help, not the traditional kind anyway, she wouldn’t say such a thing. And the day he showed me why that was, I understood his reluctance. Fuck. I even agreed with him.

No shrinks. No therapist. Ever. I’ll deal with the monster my way. I’ve been doing it for the past twelve years now. I can handle it.

“Are you done with classes for the day?” I ask, shifting the subject.

“I am.” She rolls her eyes, seeing right through me.

“Good. I’ll walk you to your car.”

“Didn’t bring one.” She shrugs. “Mine got totaled, remember? Too riddled with bullet holes to save.”

How can I forget? The night Stella, Lucky, and Frankie got abducted by the Bratva is still very fresh in my mind, for more than one reason.

I shake the image of Father McDonagh’s dead eyes looking back at me.

“You know we’ve got a whole fleet of cars you could use until you get a new one, right?” I counter, needing to stay in the present, instead of letting myself get trapped by past mistakes.

“What do you think I’ve been driving these last couple of months?” She laughs. “I just don’t think pulling up to campus in a Bentley, Ferrari, or some bulletproof SUV with tinted windows exactly screams out that I’m just your run-of-the-mill college senior. I’m trying to blend in, remember?”

Right. Like Stella could ever blend in.

With that flame-red hair and her take-no-prisoners attitude, there’s no way the student body at UChicago hasn’t noticed her in the four years she’s been studying here.

“So how’d you get to school?”

“Like any regular student.” She smirks. “I Ubered.”

I let out a laugh, the tension loosening in my chest. Just being near my sister is enough to chase away the last traces of the nightmare.

“How about I give you a ride home then?”

“I’m down for that. Though you know if you come home now,” she peeks at her watch, “Mom’s bound to guilt-trip you into staying for dinner.”

“I’m okay with that.”

“Yeah?” she asks, her well-groomed brow cocked up high.

“Yeah.”

Other than the nightmare from a few minutes ago, it’s been a good day. He’s been quiet, which makes days like this feel almost… normal. Perfect for being with my family.

Stella hooks her arm around mine, evidently happy to spend more time with me, and we head out of the library. Unfortunately for me, my good mood is ruined when we round the corner and run right into none other than Izzie-fucking-Graham.

“Izzie?” Stella grins, surprised and clearly delighted. “I didn’t know you were taking classes at UChicago.”

“Hi, Stella. Marcello,” Izzie replies, looking equally thrown off. “Yeah, I’m taking my master’s here. Just met with my advisor about my thesis. I didn’t know you went here, too.”

There’s something off in her tone. I pick it up immediately. Almost like that piece of information should’ve been obvious to her. As if she should have known Stella attended the same school she did.

“Yup. Senior year. My last year, fingers crossed,” Stella says, and I catch the mischievous gleam in her eye as she glances between the two of us, clearly enjoying herself.

“Good for you. Any plans for grad school?”

“Nope. I’m done with school once I’ve got my business diploma in hand.”

“In a rush to be some high-powered CEO then?”

“Something like that,” Stella smirks. My sister changes the topic by dropping her gaze to Izzie’s lower lip. “Glad to see you heal quickly.”

Izzie chuckles. “So am I.”

The way they talk—so casually, like old friends—is fraying my nerves.

“Let’s go. We’re late,” I mutter, needing to break this off.

“No, we’re not,” Stella dismisses without looking at me.

“Yes, we are. Let’s go, Stella.”

She catches the tone in my voice and knows I’m not joking. With an exaggerated eye roll, she turns back to Izzie and flashes another one of those perfect smiles.

“Where are you parked? We can walk you to it, if you want.”

“Actually, my car broke down. I’ve been putting a lot of miles on it, and it finally gave out this morning. It was a piece of junk to begin with, but now I feel like I’ve lost a limb.”

“I hear you. I’m in the market for a new one, too. So how are you getting home?”

“By bus. How else?” Izzie says with a short laugh.

“In this snow?” Stella frowns, pointing to the blizzard slamming against a window. “Absolutely not. We’ll take you home.”

“We will?”

“You will?” Izzie and I ask in unison, both sounding equally displeased with the idea.

“Of course,” Stella replies sweetly.

“I don’t want to impose,” Izzie says, chewing on her bottom lip.

“She doesn’t want to impose,” I grumble, aiming it at Stella.

“And she’s not,” Stella shoots back at me. “You’re not, Izzie. Besides, this is the perfect opportunity to get to know each other better.”

When Stella links arms with Izzie instead of me, I know I’ve lost this battle. Still, I can’t help noticing that Izzie doesn’t seem thrilled about the ride. It’s the first time I’ve seen her looking unsure. Maybe she’s worried we’ll learn her address and show up unannounced.

As if that would ever happen. I want to distance myself from her. Not more fucking proximity. She’s gotten close enough as it is.

I trail behind them as Stella chatters in Izzie’s ear. By the time we reach my car, I’m already annoyed, only to worsen when Stella offers Izzie the front seat.

What the hell is my sister doing?

Izzie buckles in, her perfume lingering in the air between us, intoxicating and irritating all at once.

“What’s your address?” I ask curtly, pulling up my GPS.

She hesitates a bit too long before giving me an address in the South Side. I start the car, eager to get this ride over with. But as I pull out of the parking lot, I realize it’s going to be fucking excruciating if they’re determined to talk the entire drive, which they clearly are.

“You haven’t come back to the gym,” Izzie says, turning slightly to face Stella, her voice light but probing. “Did I make that bad of a first impression?”

“It’s not you. I just got used to training alone. Or with my da… I mean, with a family friend,” Stella catches herself before calling Dominic dad to a total stranger.

“Oh,” Izzie says softly. “That’s a shame. Carmine was hoping you’d come around. He thought maybe you’d be more comfortable with me there, and the gym’s members getting more diverse. Honestly, he only hired me in the first place because he hoped you’d spend more time there. With him.”

Stella frowns, guilt clouding her features. “I didn’t know that.”

“It’s not really my place to say, but he cares about you. A lot. Both of you,” she adds, glancing at me, making my chest tight with how her honey-brown eyes are warm and unsettling all at once.

“I guess I could drop in a couple times a week,” Stella muses to herself.

“That would mean the world to him. Really.” Izzie smiles, and this time, there’s something softer in it. Less polished. More… real.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile like that. So genuinely. It should be off-putting. But it’s not. It softens her face, makes her look… even more beautiful.

Fuck.

Stop smiling. Stop fucking smiling.

My nostrils flare as I press harder on the gas, needing to get this woman out of my car as fast as humanly possible.

Her voice. Her scent. Her fucking smile. It’s all doing my head in.

Unaware of the chaos in my mind, they keep talking. Izzie starts going on about changes to the gym and about all the planned updates, when Stella’s attention is momentarily pulled away by a notification on her phone.

“Shit,” she mumbles.