Page 73 of Vicious Behaviors (The Next Vicious Generation #3)

“And there you show how very little you know about life or even family,” my father scoffs. “I have loved Annamaria from the moment she came into this world. Blood has no bearing on a father’s love—a lesson your own father never taught you.”

“That may be true, but Don Carlo taught me a few things that will stick with me forever.” Matteo’s eyes darken as he directs his attention to his father, whose lips have remained sealed during the whole exchange.

“Didn’t you, Papà? You taught me that cowardice has a price.

” Carlo stiffens, flinching under his own son’s gaze.

“Because of him,” Matteo continues, “the Cosa Nostra was weakened, letting the Outfit think it had a voice in what New York does. But this is our city. Our terrain. Chicago has no bearing on us.”

“If that were true, we wouldn’t be here, now would we?” my father replies coolly.

“No. We would not.” Matteo’s snarl is aimed like a knife at his father. “But I’ve grown tired of living under Outfit’s thumb. It’s time we restore our city to its proper glory. The Cosa Nostra is taking what rightfully belongs to it, by any means necessary.”

“And do those means include kidnapping an innocent girl?” my father questions accusingly.

Matteo’s lips curl at their sides. “Anna is no angel.”

The smirk on his face makes my spine go ramrod straight, while the black of his eyes only angers me.

“If your brother has laid a hand on her—” I start to shout.

“Then my brother would be a dead man,” Matteo cuts me off, voice sharp as broken glass.

Matteo speaks with such certainty that it leaves a distinct impression that he would gladly slit Raffaele’s throat if he so much as touched a hair on Annamaria’s head. His words twist in my gut as confusion ripples through me. My father, however, stays the course, his expression a blank canvas.

“You can’t keep what isn’t yours, Matteo. Anna needs to come home.”

“She is home. My golden cage is just as shiny and bright as the one you built for her.”

This is spiraling out of control. We’re fucking talking to a madman. We’re going in circles, no closer to finding my sister than when we first arrived.

My chest tightens as I scan the warehouse for what feels like the millionth time, searching for the backup that was promised to us.

In his shrewdness, my father had a backup plan just in case the Donatos couldn’t see reason and give us back our Anna.

Before we even landed in New York, he had already struck a deal with the Irish mob, getting them to reach the warehouse ahead of us and hide, ready to unleash hell on the Donatos the moment they failed to deliver my sister.

They were supposed to be silent guardians meant to tip the balance in our favor.

However, the silence now feels too deep. Too wrong.

“I’m sorry… am I boring you, Marcello?” Matteo sneers, his eyes following my restless glance upwards. “Or are you waiting for your Irish shadows to crawl out of the dark?”

Ice runs down my spine at the look of triumph in his eyes.

“They’re not here, are they?” I ask, point-blank.

Matteo grins, all teeth. “I’m afraid not. Let’s just say I’ve kept them… occupied elsewhere.”

My blood goes cold. Fuck. This means we’re alone, outnumbered, and trapped in a warehouse with a goddamn sociopath.

“But you’re right,” Matteo says smoothly, almost too calm. “I’ve taken enough of your time. It’s only fair I lay out my demands.”

“And those are?” Dom asks, finally breaking his silence.

“The Outfit no longer has any say in Cosa Nostra business. New York is officially out of your reach.”

“And Annamaria?” Gio presses.

“She’ll live out her days here. Insurance, to make sure you keep your promise and stay the fuck out of our business.”

“What you’re proposing is war,” I quip, my back molars grinding with hatred for this fucker.

“What I’m proposing,” Matteo counters, “is freedom. Our freedom from you.”

“Freedom comes at a cost,” my father mutters, his voice heavy with warning. “Are you prepared to drown your city in blood—the very city you claim to want to save from us?”

“You tell me,” Matteo replies with a shrug.

Before we even know what’s happening, Niccolò breaks away from his spot, grabs his father by the shoulders, and shoves Don Carlo to his knees in front of Matteo, while still facing us.

Then, Matteo draws a knife in one fluid motion, seizes Carlo by the hair, and slits his throat from behind.

The wet sound echoes through the warehouse as Don Carlo gurgles his last breath and then collapses forward, blood pooling and spreading fast across the cracked cement floor.

“Blood will be met with blood,” Matteo says coldly. “Let this be the first drop.”

And with that parting remark, he turns his back on us, utterly unafraid, and strides away. Niccolò falls in behind him, as do their bodyguards, leaving us standing in silence, the warehouse thick with the metallic stench of Don Carlo’s blood.

I glance at my father, but his eyes stay fixed on a retreating Matteo. Only when every last Donato man is no longer within hearing distance does my father utter a word.

“Gentlemen,” he says at last, his voice low, lethal. “It appears Matteo Donato is the new Capo dei Capi of the Cosa Nostra. ”

“No shit,” Gio mutters in disbelief. “So what the fuck are we going to do now?”

“What we must,” Dom answers grimly.

“He has Anna, Dad. Anna.” My voice cracks with fury. “And we just let that lunatic walk out of here on his own two legs!”

My father doesn’t respond. Instead, he takes one further step forward until the tips of his shoes meet Carlo’s blood. He hovers over the body, glancing first at Gio, then at Dom, and finally at me, his hazel eyes burning with pure malice and cruelty.

“If Matteo Donato wants a war,” my father says, voice like iron, “then he’ll get one.”

The End

To be continued in Vicious Desires .