Chapter 4
Something is wrong—off. Only I can’t quite put a finger on it.
Or anything, really. A darkness like a thick fog clinging to every fold of my brain—has me under its tortuous spell. I’m barely conscious enough to remember who the hell I am.
Jericho Viotto. Mafia heir. Owner of Rave. Residing in the Viotto mansion.
Or that is what I like to think. My brain is too muddled to have any coherent thoughts.
A yawn rips from my lips, attempting to pull oxygen in and refuel my mind. My fingers curl at my sides, gathering the plush comforter in my hands. I revel in its softness and coolness under my touch, sinking further into the comforter that reminds me I’m home. Even the savory smells filling my nose hint at home and—wait. I sniff harder, pulling the scent into my lungs. Soot. Ashes.
What?
I could nod off and fall back into the darkness of my mind and slip into the dreams that beckon me again. I shouldn’t, though. Whatever has happened needs me awake and alert. I feel it deep in my bones.
An omen of what is coming when I can finally peel my eyes open. Not now, though. I’ll stare into the darkness of my eyelids until someone needs me.
Silence cocoons me. Static fills my ears, soothing the edge of panic roaring up inside me, like a fire simmering deep in my gut, growing bigger and bigger until I can’t ignore it anymore. Something has happened. Bad? Good? I haven’t a fucking clue. By the frantic pounding in my skull pulsating with the beating of my heart, I’d say I’m in for a world of hurt. Now, if I could only remember how I got this way. Pain reverberates through each of my limbs. But mostly through my right shoulder, which protests with every move. My fingers twitch at my sides again, releasing the comforter from my shaky grasp.
This feeling reminds me of the time Arrow shoved a needle in my neck, and I awoke to quite the scene. Right here in this bedroom. Fuck. I can practically smell the massive amounts of sex and cum with hints of smoke. Again. What the hell is that smell?
Bright sunlight beams through the open windows of the room, piercing through my eyelids, which I have yet to open. I’m going to kill Shepp for opening the damn blackout curtains. Again. Just go into the kitchen and make your damn breakfast like you do every morning, and let me rest more. Since Journey came into my life, sleep has come to me quicker and better. Once my arms wrap around her warm body, I’m done for. She’s the shutoff button to my overactive mind, calming me in seconds.
Sandpaper rests behind my eyes. Every attempt to open them has me squeezing them shut.
Fuck. More pain splinters through me.
Water forms in my eyes the moment I pop them open, and I blink rapidly to push the uncomfortable feeling away. Lazily, my eyes roam over our bedroom, checking it over. But it all looks the same. Sans the people, that is.
My fingers brush over my bare chest toward the boxers I’ve been left in. Confusion swarms through me. What the hell? Did I undress before getting into bed? Wait. When the Hell did I come to bed in the first place? I shake my head, which is a mistake on its own. My mind swims again, swirling the room in a multitude of colors, forcing my eyes shut.
I sit up, groaning and holding my head. The deep ache in my skull pulsates more the moment I’m sitting on the edge of the bed. Fuck. I feel like I rolled in front of a bus and let it hit me repeatedly. Every damn molecule screams in protest when I attempt to stretch again.
“Fuck,” I hoarsely cry when my right shoulder shifts into an awkward position, and I tense.
Bravely, I inspect the wound, grazing over what feels like gauze packed and taped on my flesh, and probe the area. The regret is immediate. Pain grips me hard as I try to regain my breath, and my mind swirls into darkness.
What the absolute fuck is happening?
Panic wars inside me more, tearing at my insides. I have a fucking wound on my shoulder. It’s bandaged to perfection like a doctor came by and fixed me up. No matter how much my shoulder protests, I peel the gauze from my skin and peer at the small wound. My muscles shake with protest, but I blow out a breath, slumping forward.
“It’s merely a flesh wound,” I mutter to myself sarcastically, putting the gauze back over the injury. Whoever fixed me up, for God knows why, cleaned it. Later, after I’ve gotten in the shower to wash this gunk off my skin, I will look at it further and get a better idea of what I’m working with.
Now my next problem is. How the fuck did I get this wound in the first place?
I dig my palms into my eyes, trying to swipe away the fog, holding tight to my mind and refusing to give me any sort of insight. This feels exactly like I did with Arrow’s drugs, but more intense. Worse, even. It feels like I stepped in front of Will Smith’s character in Men in Black and let him take my memories from me.
“Remember,” I murmur, squeezing my tired eyes closed and attempting to pull through the memories.
The initiation ball. The attack on the Family. The servers drawing guns and pointing them at us. A fight.
Journey…My muscles tighten with realization. Journey. Arrow. Shepp. Where in the absolute fuck are they?
I stumble off the bed, searching the bathroom and our walk-in closet. Bile rises in my throat when I look back at the bed. The only part of the comforter wrinkled is my side, as if no one had come to bed with me after my injury.
So, if they are not here or anywhere in this room. Are they in the rest of the house?
I listen again over the beating of my heart. It falls into my stomach when no noises greet my ears. Sure, this is a big place to get lost in. But I can always hear something from far away. The sound of Shepp occasionally listening to music as he paints. Arrow’s loud talking. Scraping of plates and the sizzle of bacon.
But there’s nothing. At all. Which means they might not be here. Perhaps they’re out gathering food. Or maybe not.
My brain is still feeling empty as footsteps approach from outside my bedroom. A lock clicks, meaning I am locked inside here like a prisoner, and my bedroom door opens. Shallow breaths fill my lungs. When his sneering face enters my room, I retract all my feelings into a black hole before I see red and explode. Calmly, I suck in a breath and use Shepp’s method he taught me years before to calm my nerves and count backward from ten, easing my tension.
My shoulders loosen, and I stand near the doorway to our closet, watching him as closely as he watches me. There is a predatory gleam in his eyes—a spider who has caught the fly in his web and is eager to suck out his insides. He’s trapped me.
Now, what will he do?
Something big has happened. A broken time in my memory that I can’t quite remember right now. I will, though, in time. For now, I must pretend I’m as compliant as possible. I don’t want to ruffle feathers. Or make them think I’m a threat. I am, but they can look at me like Aiden is looking at me right now.
“Good, you’re awake.”
My eyes roam over his body, fitted with a familiar black security uniform and a gun at his waist—something my father gives to all his employees who guard him and his properties. A piece of clothing I have never had my employees wear.
Aiden.
The lead security at Rave. The man who aided us in searching for listening bugs at the club my father signed over to me before my initiation. A man I thought I had complete trust in with everything.
How did I not see this coming? There’s no question who his loyalties lie with now. Gabriel Viotto. A man who has never known what loyalty truly is. He uses and abuses, discarding his men like pieces of torn paper. He doesn’t care about them like I tried to do with my most trusted.
Funny how that worked out.
“Aiden?” I question in a smooth voice. “What are you doing here? Is there a problem at the club?” Obviously, there’s not. Or he would not be wearing that attire.
So, I play dumb.
Aiden eyes me stoically. “It’s shut down for now.” Well, that’s news to me. Unless something drastically changed, it shouldn’t have shut its doors for good at all.
“Shut down?” I ask, coming forward to stand near the bed and match his tense posture. “Why exactly?”
He walks to the middle of the room and stands a few feet from me. His chest puffs out. Pride emanating from him.
Aiden. My former employee has betrayed us. I bet if he sank to his knees, he’d suck my father’s cock with enthusiasm.
Disgusting.
“Your father will explain.” It’s all he says when he eyes my shoulder and then jerks his gaze away.
Interesting.
“My father?” I play coy.
“Yes,” he says stiffly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “He’s expecting you.” Well, double interesting. He’s expecting me. Yet, he hasn’t summoned me with a text or phone call. Or perhaps he has. I woke up with fewer clothes than I suspect I went to bed with.
Mission one: find my fucking phone. Mission two: find my fucking family.
“In how long?” I cock my head, ignoring my screaming muscles, begging me to go easy on myself. But there is no time.
“Whenever you’re dressed,” he says, lifting his chin. “He’s downstairs waiting for you.”
Now, that admittance makes me pause. Downstairs? In the very house he has refused to come back to since he built his impregnable tower after my mother left us without a word. I sniff, immediately catching a whiff of something fishy.
The hairs on my arms stand on end, with Aiden sending me a downright evil grin that could wake the devil from a nap. He braces himself, eyeing me up and down with contempt.
“Downstairs? In this residence?” I ask, pointing toward the floor. I need to hear him confirm to believe it. Even though in the back of my mind, I know it’s true.
This must be the omen my body was trying to warn me about. Gabriel Viotto has changed direction. Houses. That’s something he never does. He’s a man of habit. Formed from his paranoia that began plaguing him years before.
When Grace Viotto existed on this property, she made it beautiful—spending hours outside watering the gardens and bringing the flowers to life. Whether it was to get away from Gabriel’s overbearing ass or to teach me in the sunshine, I’m not too sure. I have the faintest memories of her. My mother. Resting somewhere deep in the back of my mind that’s been inaccessible for some time now. Visually, I can see her smiling face. But holes plague the only five years I had with her. We spent some time outside. She read to me every night before my father would pull her away.
What good of a son am I if I can’t remember what my mother looked like? Spoke like? I can barely remember her.
Grace Viotto is more of a myth to me—a ghost who sits in every corner of this mansion.
Even now, with the toxic fog stealing my thoughts and memories, I wouldn’t be able to recollect her.
I shake my aching skull, returning to the present, where Aiden watches me closely. He was never the most observant man, but he made a damn good security guard standing outside our VIP room and guarding us.
“Yes. He’s downstairs waiting for you,” Aiden says smugly, lifting his chin. “Lunch will be prepared and served soon. Shall we?” He gestures toward the door with impatience.
After all these years, Gabriel has finally come back to the mansion. My only question is. Why? Nothing has brought him back in the past. Even a bomb getting set off or death threats with my name on them. He stayed as far away as he could.
Until now.
More now than ever, I wonder where the fuck Arrow and Shepp are. If my father is waiting for me for lunch. Are they down there, too? He’s always considered them a part of my inner circle. Doting on them and raising them. Especially Shepp when his father died. And when he took Arrow under his wing after the priest couldn’t control him.
So, my question stands. Where are my brothers? And if they’re not on the property, where has my father stashed them?
All in due time, I suppose.
So, I swallow the panic clawing at my throat, begging to come out and play, and put on my mask of indifference. If my father even sniffs a hint of emotions on me, he’ll toss me in the dark closet in the basement and throw away the key. Permanently, this time.
“Will we be alone?” I inquire, slowly moving toward my walk-in closet to gather some clean clothes before I step into the shower to collect myself, holding in a wince—every step I take jostles my newest wound.
Aiden’s gaze stays on me no matter where I wander in the room. Later, I’ll check for the weapons Arrow has stashed around here. Do I know their exact location? No. But I’m sure he has a plethora of weaponry ready for me to steal. He’s Arrow, after all. Filled with chaos, but he always seems to have a backup plan.
“No,” Aiden confirms.
“Then tell my father I’ll be down when I’m well and ready.” I raise a brow when Aiden swallows hard again, not moving from the middle of the room.
Scurry along , you little fucking traitor. I’ve got weapons to find and a phone to uncover.
“Then I’ll wait,” he says without emotion, blinking rapidly when I stand before him with my clothes draped over my good shoulder.
Of fucking course he will. He’s probably been instructed not to take his eyeballs off me.
“I see,” I say in a low voice, stepping forward.
“You see?” he rushes out, almost tripping over his tongue.
Scaredy fucking cat in a position of power. How ironic, huh? This one needs his heart clawed from his chest.
“Indeed. I see what lies you hide,” I whisper, staring directly into his devious eyes. “Traitor,” I hiss, making him flinch back.
He’s been lying to me from day one. It’s a good thing I’ve never fully trusted my employees at the club. Shepp, Arrow, and I turned Rave completely around at just eighteen, even adding high-stakes poker games and other means to line our pockets. Other important aspects were implemented long ago at the urging of Arrow. He may always carry a small vial of knockout drugs in his pocket, but he cares for the community—just like his father, the priest.
Aiden’s face hardens when he steps back. “You say a lot of shit for someone who is unarmed.” He gestures to the gun at his hip with confidence.
Not for long, asshole.
“And you say a lot for a man who is a traitor. You know what happens to traitors in the Viotto family?”
He licks his lips. Of course, he isn’t aware. He’s an employee. A no one in the eyes of Viotto. He hasn’t fallen to his knees and pledged an oath while his chest bled for them. Not yet, at least. I’m wondering now if my father has promised something he can’t give to Aiden—a piece of our paradise.
“In the night, they sneak into your room and tear you apart inch by inch. You can’t move to defend yourself. But the pain…” I grin when he pales, reveling in his realization of what type of organization he is fully committing to.
It’s not a threat for what’s to come. It’s a promise. Besides, I could reach for Aiden’s weapon, have it in hand, and silently jam it into his throat, all before he could beg for his life before I blew the bullet through the back of his skull. If Arrow were here, he’d protest at my simple kill, begging to do it his way. And his way always involves his two pet lions—Max and Nova. And Shepp? Well, he’d stand stoically beside us with a grim expression, making sure we didn’t go too far. Ever the hero to our villainous ways.
My father has always underestimated me. Never seeing the true potential inside me. He morphed me into the person I am, taking me by the hand and ruining every innocent part of me.
He’s never thought I’d amount to anything special. Hoped, of course. But never truly saw what I was capable of.
Well, here I am, Father.
“I’m here to take you to lunch. Do what you need to do. I’ll radio your father and let him know you’re getting cleaned up. And wear something nice; it’ll be formal,” he grits out, turning on his heel and marching toward the door to stand guard so I don’t run away.
“I’m curious,” I say, startling him to a stop. “What did Gabriel offer you to turn your back on me? Or were you..”
“He didn’t offer me anything. I was never on your side to begin with. I can be a good actor, Jericho.” The venom in his voice has my teeth grinding more than his admission. “But I will be a part of this family. I’ll graduate from security to his second-in-command.” Oh, so that’s his goal. Interesting. I wonder if the great Gabriel whispered those little lies in his ears to get his way.
“Big goals, Traitor,” I taunt with a laugh. “You think he’d ever trust you in a place of authority within the Viotto Crime Family?” My father wouldn’t. He’s seen how easily swayed Aiden is. No way in Hell will Aiden ever advance. He’ll be another cog in my father’s well-oiled mafia machine.
Aiden pledged himself to me and my club. My cause. But it was never mine to begin with. It was all an elaborate ruse, so my father had eyes and ears on me at all times. It makes me wonder how Aiden’s security partner, Brandon, is fairing now. They were always together in the club, watching the patrons and protecting us. Was he in on it? Probably. I’ll find him, though, and ask him the same questions before putting a bullet through his brain for ever stepping out on Arrow, Shepp, and me.
Aiden huffs, facing me in the doorway before marching back into my room and plopping on my bed. My marital fucking bed. The space my wife and I share with Arrow and Shepp. That simple action has red hazing my vision. My fingers curl at my sides. Murder is on the fucking horizon.
I have to play the game, though. Wait until the right moment.
Aiden doesn’t seem to notice as he sniffs, wiggling onto the mattress. “Don’t worry. I’ll wait right here for you. You probably shouldn’t be alone anyway with all that.” He points to the bandage on my arm with annoyance. I’m five seconds from asking him what happened, but I bite my tongue. “Get your shower or whatever. He won’t wait too long for you.” He digs out his phone and plays a loud arcade-sounding game.
Wonderful. He’s staying. On my fucking bed. I swear the next time he and I are alone, I’m carving out his heart and presenting it to my missing wife.
My teeth clench when I turn on my heel, heading toward the large bathroom. Memories of Journey and I, after she was released from jail, soar through my mind, which is inconvenient. My dick springs up at the memories of her naked body beneath her jail outfit. Something that should be the farthest from my mind right now, considering my psycho father is waiting for me downstairs, and my family seems to have disappeared.
I had plans to search for weapons and my phone while Aiden stepped out so I could shower. But now, those are up in smoke. I have no choice but to wash the grime off me and then go to lunch with my father.
It gives me quality thinking time to go over the situation as best I can.
I flip the lights on, illuminating the bathroom, and turn to lock the door behind me. It’s a semblance of peace and security for now. A moment for me to look in the mirror, reach into my fucking memories, and figure out what the fuck is happening.
Now, I need my foggy brain to get on board.
A black hole sits in the back of my mind, swallowing all the information I’m seeking. Nothing floods through, though. It’s gone. Disappeared. And I’m left here trying to deal with the fallout of… what? Whoever fucking drugged me mustn’t have had a clue as to what they were doing. It was too much. I feel it in my dry mouth and aching skull. Not like Arrow. The fucking psycho. He carries around those vials of knock-out meds with precise measurements to knock out even the biggest man. Or perhaps whoever administered these meds gave me more than necessary to knock my ass out longer. Per my father’s orders, I can only assume.
It is his M.O. I’ve seen it before.
I squeeze my eyes shut, attempting to force it out of my damn skull. In my gut, I know for sure something went down.
But where? When? And most importantly… why?
Peeling my eyes open, I take stock of my body, counting the bruises marring my skin. Dark. Purple. Blue. Red puffy skin. It paints me like Shepp and his visions on canvas. I’m a piece of art for some sort of violent attack that occurred. Meaning, I’ve only been out for a short period of time since the initiation ball. If more time had passed since that night where my last memories reside, they’d have faded into yellow by now, and the swelling would have gone down.
As my eyes wander up my body, I stop at the white bandage on my right shoulder. Gritting my teeth, I peel it off again, revealing a small wound with a shiny glaze over it.
“A graze,” I mutter, scrunching my brows.
So, I was shot at. They missed, of course, barely grazing my skin.
I remember the fight once we got on stage—the yelling and the gunshots ringing out. Obviously, something happened at that initiation ball. Things went south—and fast.
Fuck!
My fingers turn white, gripping the edge of the countertop. If I was injured in this fight, then what about the others? Are they lying in a goddamn morgue while I’m here? Fuck this. Fuck all this! A monster wells up inside me, taking the reins of my chaotic emotions. Without thinking, I grip a soap dish and toss it across the room. My chest heaves, and momentary satisfaction roars through my system at the sound of it breaking across the tile. It shatters into a million pieces, lining the ground.
Much like me.
I grunt, pulling at my hair until nothing but pain takes me over. Why can’t I remember? Why can’t the past come back? I slam my palm into my temple several times, hoping to jostle them from my memories.
“My name is Ernie, and I would like to thank the Viotto Family for coming together in one place. This makes it much easier to do this,” the man says in a deep voice.
I stand tall, giving the person holding a gun to my temple a blank look. They think they’ve frightened me into submission. But I will never submit to Shadow’s men.
A shuddering breath works through me. The imagery is so crisp and clear, playing in my mind.
Fuck. I shake my head. It’s one of the last things I remember from the event. Those assholes storming the stage and taking over our celebration. After that, it’s fuzzy around the edges. I know I aided in gunning down the enemies. We made quick work. But the ending? How I got here? No idea.
I’m shattering myself, dissolving at the edges when I’m supposed to remain calm and keep my cool. It’s impossible now. The panic has set in. The memories play on repeat. A war ensuing during our fucking celebration. I grip my hair.
They’re gone. My brothers. My fucking wife.
I’ll rip this mansion apart to find them again.
“Jericho?” Aiden’s rough voice breaks through the bathroom door with urgency. “You aren’t dead, are you?”
No. You’d like that too much, dickface. I am very much alive. Feeling way too many emotions to stay on my fucking feet. I slide down the wall, avoiding the rogue pieces of the soap dish, and catch my breath. It’s sobering to hear his voice. To realize only a door separates us. He could peek inside and see me sitting on the ground with my fingers wrapped in my hair in the midst of a full-blown panic attack.
Aiden has been working for my father even after he had pledged his allegiance to me at Rave.
I put a sliver of trust in him to guard my business. Me. My brothers. Fuck, even my wife, if it came down to it. Maybe that was my first mistake, thinking I could rely on any man my father had previously employed to be loyal to me. No matter how much respect I gave him. Call me na?ve for my hope. My leadership would naturally form mutual respect and loyalty.
I was wrong. So very fucking wrong.
Has my blind trust put the ones I love the most in harm’s way? Fuck. I stare at the ceiling, counting backward in my mind, attempting to release the emotions choking the life out of me.
And when I leave this house, I’ll right those wrongs. But first, I must play this ridiculous part and greet my father for lunch. Perhaps he’ll have some insight as to why my wife and brothers are absent to tamp down the racing of my heart.
I say nothing when Aiden knocks on the door again, asking what the hell is happening. He doesn’t deserve an answer. Or my attention. Eventually, he sighs and gives up, probably wishing I had met my maker.
Under the warm spray, I shake off the agitation that caused me to lose my shit.
There are a few things I know for sure.
One, my father did something. There’s no doubt about that. Two, someone shot me. When, where, and how—I haven’t the foggiest idea. It’s as if someone reached in and stole the event from my memories. Three, wherever my wife and brothers are, I’ll stop at nothing to get them back.
If my father has hidden them away, I’ll incapacitate him and drag him to the basement, where I can torture the answers from him.
Now, I need to face the beast.