“Yeah.” The word comes out flat and dead.
“You go there when something’s eating at you.” She turns off the stove and pours the warm milk into a mug. Her eyes are sharp and knowing, taking in my disheveled hair, the tension in my shoulders.
Sofia sets the mug in front of me and sits down across the table. “Tell me what you did tonight.”
I stare at the mug. The steam rises in lazy curls, and I want to knock it across the room. I want to flip the entire fucking table and watch it break.
“I did what needed to be done,” I say, my voice rough and bitter. “I’m planning what’s next for the Vicis.”
What a joke. Like I have any plan beyond killing Agnello and trying not to think about his daughter’s tears.
“Vincenzo.” Her voice is gentle but unyielding. “I’ve known you since you were born. Don’t insult my intelligence by lying to me.”
Her gentleness is worse than anger. It makes me feel like she caught me doing something shameful.
Which I suppose she did.
“I went to the Montoni mansion,” I finally say, forcing the words through my clenched jaw. “To kill Agnello.”
“Did you?”
I picture Adora sobbing on her knees, her hands shaking as she tried to gather the pieces of her mother’s face. The sounds she made, broken and hopeless, echo inside my skull.
I did that to her.
Before I can answer, the back door opens. My cousin Matteo walks in, his jacket damp from freezing rain, his face drawn with exhaustion.
“Ma,” he says, kissing Sofia’s cheek. Then he looks at me, taking in my disheveled state. “Christ, Vin. You look like shit.”
“Thanks, cuz. Good to see you too.”
Matteo pulls out a chair and sits down heavily. Sofia rises without a word and pours him a glass of whisky.
He gets liquor, and I get hot milk? I must seem really unstable.
“I’m glad you’re both here,” Matteo says, accepting the glass and taking a long drink. “We need to talk.”
“About?” I ask.
“Things are bad, Vin. Worse than I thought.” He runs a hand through his dark hair. “The Dervishis hit one of our warehouses tonight. Took everything. Guns, ammunition, the whole shipment we were supposed to deliver to the Lucanias.”
I should feel something at this news. Rage. The need for retaliation. The cold calculation of how to hit them back harder.
But I feel nothing. I’m still back in Adora’s bedroom, watching her sobbing on her bedroom floor.
“How much did we lose?” I ask, because it’s what I’m supposed to ask.
“Half a million in weapons. Plus the trust of the Lucanias, who needed those guns yesterday.” Matteo leans forward, his voice urgent. “Rafiel is furious. If we lose the Lucanias, we lose our last major ally in this city.”
Sofia watches me carefully before turning to Matteo. “And what did you say to Rafiel?”
“I told him that Don Vincenzo would handle it personally.”
I look up sharply. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why not?” Matteo’s voice rises with frustration. “That’s what you are, Vin. You’re the last Vici who has any claim to lead this family, and the men need a leader. Not a ghost haunting an empty house.”
“Matteo,” Sofia says warningly.
