26. Scar
26
SCAR
T he weight of the moment presses down on me, heavy and suffocating. Dante sits across from me, his presence filling the room, but it feels like there’s a wall between us. We might as well be speaking two different languages. The mission at hand is important. But it’s not just the mission I’m struggling with. It’s everything— everything —that lies beneath it. Loyalty. Family. The way we’ve all learned to survive in this world where everything can change in an instant.
His gaze is steady, unflinching, but I can feel the distance between us, like the years we’ve spent in the game have carved a divide neither of us knows how to cross.
His eyes lock with mine, sharp and unwavering. "I met with your father-in-law," he says, his voice calm but with an edge I can’t ignore.
I lean back in my chair, trying to keep my expression neutral, but the truth is, I’m already a step ahead of him. Allegra keeps me appraised of everything with her parents—every phone call, every decision, every fucking dinner conversation. It’s one of those little perks of being married into this chaos. So, Dante’s “news” isn’t news at all.
But the way he says it, like it’s some grand revelation, has my hackles rising.
“We’re sitting here, strategizing over how to pull Jacklyn Vicci from the fire," I say, the words tight, "and you want to talk about family dynamics?”
I look at Caleph, who’s sitting beside us. He’s silent, his eyes flicking between Dante and me. His face is a study of indifference, but there’s a pulse of interest beneath it. He’s not here just to watch, but to be part of something that could shift everything. The room feels smaller now, like the walls are inching in.
I shake my head slowly. “I don’t know that a restructure is in our best interest right now,” I say, the words deliberate, weighed down with the kind of caution that always sits heavy with me.
Dante’s gaze hardens, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. “When this blows over," he corrects me, his voice low but full of the kind of certainty that could topple empires, “there must be stability in the region. And there’s only one way to ensure that.”
My chest tightens. I know what he’s about to suggest. He’s still insisting that Lucky and Jacklyn Vicci marry. When I don’t know how far I can push my brother before he cracks.
“By merging the families?” I ask, already knowing the answer. It’s the only logical solution in his mind, and I can’t deny it’s something we’ve all been circling for years. A merger could solidify power in ways we’ve only dreamed of. I just don’t want it to be at the expense of my brother.
Caleph speaks up for the first time, his voice smooth, precise. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. Your father-in-law is getting old. He wants to retire. It’s his right to do so, and it’s his right to appoint a successor.”
I want to laugh at how simple he makes it sound. Like there’s no emotion involved. But I don’t. Because there is.
Dante presses on, undeterred by the storm of thoughts brewing in my head. “We’ll be merging the Marone and Gatti families under one banner. It’ll consolidate power, but more importantly, it’ll create a united front. One family. One purpose. Each of the families on its own is a powerhouse. But together? Together, you’re dynamite.” He lets the words sit between us, heavy with promise and implication.
Merging families. I let the idea roll over me, the implications of it unfurling like an unraveling thread. I don’t know how much I trust this move, but I can’t ignore the truth in Dante’s words. It could work. It would work.
But then, a new thought surfaces, sharp and sudden, and I voice it before I can stop myself.
“That will split the families into four,” I say, meeting Dante’s eyes. “We need an odd number—usually five—to make the voting valid.”
The silence that follows hangs thick, like a beat too long, too pregnant with expectation. Dante’s gaze flickers briefly to Caleph, a look they exchange in the quiet, one of those unspoken conversations that says everything without saying a word.
Then, Dante nods, almost imperceptibly, and Caleph speaks again, his voice steady, sure. “It will be a complete restructure, Scar. A more equitable solution than the one we have now.”
Equitable. The word tastes like ash in my mouth. What the hell is that supposed to mean?
But before I can voice the question, Dante adds, “Lucky and Jacklyn will head the second family.”
I freeze. The room shifts. My mind stalls. Lucky and Jacklyn... to head a family?
I know Dante’s voice well enough by now to understand his certainty. It’s not a question—it’s a statement. And what he’s proposing doesn’t just break barriers; it shatters everything I’ve known about my brother and the choices he’s being forced to make.
I turn to Dante, my pulse quickening, my chest tightening like I can’t quite breathe. “You’re asking me to put my brother at the helm of this new structure... with Jacklyn Vicci?”
Dante nods, his gaze unwavering. “With his Gatti bloodline and his connection to the Vicci family, Lucky’s influence will surpass anyone else’s. He’s the one who’ll lead that second family. He’ll give the Gattis a seat at the table with the power to make real change.”
The words hang in the air like a thunderstorm waiting to break. I swallow hard, my throat dry as dust. This isn’t just about power. This isn’t just about protecting the families. This has now become about everything.
“I’m not just offering Lucky power, Scar.” Dante’s voice lowers, almost a growl, but it’s calculated, dripping with the weight of what’s coming next. “I’m offering him a legacy.”
I drink deeply from the glass in front of me, my fingers trembling slightly as I set it down with a hollow clink. A legacy. The words resound in my head, louder than the thumping of my heart.
I feel it then—the crushing weight of the decision ahead. The stakes have never been higher. Not just for me, not just for Lucky, but for every family involved. This isn’t a game. This is the kind of deal that can tear us apart or solidify us forever.
But Dante’s not done. He keeps pushing, his eyes gleaming with that dangerous certainty that always precedes something huge.
“The others,” he continues, his voice now all business. “The Cavallos, the Donellis…Victor Moreno…they’ll all retain their stations. I’m merely appointing leadership.”
Victor Moreno. The name hangs in the air, a threat wrapped in velvet. “Victor Moreno won’t take kindly to this arrangement,” I murmur, more to myself than to him. “He’ll do whatever it takes to keep his seat at the table.”
Dante’s lips curl into a thin, knowing smile. “He’ll still have it,” he says, as if he’s already three steps ahead.
“He wants leadership…you know it’s what he’s been working toward for years.”
“Leadership rests with those I know can make the most change, with those who can be trusted.”
I nod slowly, my mind still racing. My thoughts are a thousand miles ahead, scrambling to catch up with this new reality. I look at Caleph, and then Dante, my gaze steady, unreadable.
“You understand now why Lucky should marry Jacklyn Vicci?” Dante asks. “The Vicci name alone will not hold weight. But backed by a Gatti, it’ll give us a foothold in this shifting world. It will give us the stability we need. They’ll think twice before they cross the line again.”
I feel the weight of it all settle in my chest. Jacklyn Vicci is not just a name. She’s not just a moving piece in this game. She’s the key to everything. Power. Stability. Family. The future.
“You’re asking us to stake the future of our families on her,” I say, my voice steady, my mind racing.
Dante’s smile widens, his eyes gleaming with that dangerous certainty I’ve come to know all too well. “I’m asking you to stake your future on us, Scar. On the right choices. On power. And yes, on Jacklyn.”
We Gatti brothers haven’t had the most conventional upbringing, and Lord knows we have our fair share of emotional baggage; burdens and demons fighting for control over our conscience. But that’s the thing about us, about me—I’ve learned how to carry my burdens, how to shoulder the weight of everything that’s come before. We all have, in our own way.
But Lucky? He’s always been different. He’s the one I’m worried about now. He’s the one who’s cracking. The fact that he went off on his own on a mission to find Jacklyn Vicci tells me he’s spiralling. It wasn’t just a mission for him. It was something far more personal, and I could feel the storm inside him brewing from miles away. I knew then that the weight of everything was pushing him over the edge. He wasn’t just hunting for Jacklyn anymore—he was hunting for something within himself. A way to fill the hole, to make sense of all the shit that’s gone down in his life.
And that’s my concern. Lucky’s my concern. Right now, he’s the only thing I can think about.
I’ve known him longer than anyone. Seen every side of him—good, bad, and the ugly that he hides beneath layers of carefully constructed walls. Lucky is the emotional one among us. Where the rest of us have learned to bury our feelings, to compartmentalize them until they don’t exist anymore, he wears his like an open wound. When he feels, he feels too much. It’s in his eyes, in the way his jaw tightens when something’s not right, the way he tries so damn hard to keep the world at arm’s length while being pulled deeper into it with each passing second.
It’s why he built that armor of his, always hidden behind the facade of being the tough guy. Like a knight in a crumbling suit of steel. But it’s only a matter of time before that armor rusts, and when it does, everything inside him will come rushing out.
I’ve been watching him for years now. Maybe not closely enough, but I’ve watched. I saw it the day our mother left after Christiano’s death.
Losing him... I don’t even know how to describe it. It was a punch to the gut for all of us, but especially for Brando. Christiano and Brando were twins—two halves of the same whole. Brando’s grief was so damn consuming, I thought he’d fall apart for good. But it wasn’t just Brando who felt it. Lucky felt that loss too. Harder, I think, than anyone ever realized.
Christiano was a pillar for Lucky. The kind of rock you could lean on when the world was crumbling. And when we lost him, it left Lucky dangling, unmoored, caught between trying to hold us together and the crippling fear of losing even more.
Our mother leaving us was the final nail in the coffin for us. I can remember so clearly the moment she walked out; the single suitcase by her side, the staunch set of her shoulders as she marched toward the door, cast out by my father. She didn’t even say goodbye. Not a word. Not a single embrace. She left behind only the icy cold heart that she had carried around like a talisman. I remember the hollow look on Lucky’s face when she didn’t come back. Rafi, just a boy at seven, didn’t understand as much as the rest of us. He was too young, too resilient to feel the same weight that Lucky did.
But Lucky—he never quite bounced back. Not like the rest of us.
He took it all on himself, shouldering things a kid his age shouldn’t have had to bear. I’m sure he felt like he had to carry all of us after she left. I saw it in the way he tried to be our protector, always a step ahead, always looking out for the rest of us like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. And maybe he did. But what most people didn’t see was how much of it broke him. The guilt, the responsibility—he buried it, but I could see it. I always could.
We all felt that fear, but for Lucky, it was different. He didn’t just lose a brother. He lost his sense of security, his sense of family . I think that’s when he started to believe that if you got too close to someone, if you allowed yourself to depend on them, you’d only end up empty-handed in the end. So, he started pushing people away, building those walls higher, thicker, until no one could get in. Not even me.
I wish I could’ve done more. Said something. But Lucky’s always been stubborn, always been the one to hide behind that armor. And now, as I watch him spiral, as I see him chasing after something he can’t even name, I wonder if it’s finally time for me to break through.
The Gatti brothers don’t have the luxury of showing weakness. Not in front of our enemies, not even in front of each other. But that doesn’t mean we don’t feel it. We’re just better at pretending we don’t.
I grab my phone, the glow of the screen lighting up my face in the dark room. The message from Rafi catches my eye—he’s checked in, asking about Lucky’s whereabouts. I type a quick response, but my mind is elsewhere, circling back to my brother’s last move.
Lucky had been given a task. Get Jacklyn Vicci. Find her, make sure she’s safe, or take her down if necessary. It was supposed to be simple. A mission like any other. But I could feel it in my gut that it wasn’t just about the mission for Lucky. It never was. With him, everything’s personal.
I know he’s been to hell and back. I know he’s afraid of what might come from all this—the way things have shifted, the way everything feels like it’s unraveling. But what I don’t think he sees, not yet, is that the key to fixing himself might just lie in the one thing he’s been too afraid to face: letting someone in.
I can’t fix this for him. I can’t fight his demons. But if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that he’s not alone in this fight.
Not if I have anything to say about it.
It’s time to bring my brother back. Time to break through the walls he’s built and remind him of something he’s forgotten: that family— our family—is everything.
And I’ll be damned if I let him lose that, too.