Chapter 7
My eyes roam the scenery through my bedroom window with a bored sigh. It’s only been a few hours since Aiden locked me away and threw out the key. Leaving me bored and eager to get this show on the road. I have an escape to manage. The trees sway in the evening summer air, blowing in the wild winds coming from the west. I tilt my head, my annoyance rising.
Iron bars now partially obscure my once beautiful view of the property, blocking the window and preventing me from sneaking through.
My fingers curl at my side. This has my father's name written all over it.
Controlling cunt.
He moved quickly. I’ll give him that. In one night, he took complete control of my living space and made it a prison—no doubt, ordering his men around and forcing them to put these bars on the windows.
I blow out a calming breath. It's no matter. I'm on the second floor. I'd rather not roll an ankle in an attempt to run from this place. He's undoubtedly got guards patrolling the land, with orders to shoot me on sight. Or maim me. Not enough to kill. Just enough to subdue me into compliance and bring me back to rot in this hellhole.
He can plot and keep me captive all he likes. I have a solid plan. Once the moon sits high in the sky, I'll walk out the front door with my head held high and grab my getaway car, getting to Arrow and then East Point Bluff as fast as possible.
No matter who I must murder. There is no doubt in my mind that blood will paint the pristine white walls if I can't get my hands on my fucking wife.
I tilt my head, going over the plan in my mind repeatedly. One misstep and my father will have me chained in the basement to get whatever it is he wants.
I'm the heir of this goddamn town, and soon, I'll be in charge. He has overstayed his welcome as head of the Viotto Crime Family for long enough. Changes are on the horizon. Something that should have happened the moment my brothers and I began planning his demise. But you can’t take down an empire in a single night. It takes years of building up allies and getting your ducks in a row.
For now, I'll patiently wait until the sun goes down and everyone is asleep.
Then, Aiden and I will have some words. Fists. Stabs. You name it, we're going to have it. Then, he'll expire, and I'll be a little happier.
My feet carry me across the room as anxiety itches beneath my skin. Get to Journey. My mind screams. She needs you. Arrow needs you. Shepp needs you. Everyone needs you. Now. Not later.
Fuck. I pull at my hair.
My fingers itch to play my violin, the object that brings me back from the brink of darkness and grounds me here, like Journey. Without her or my melodies, I'm bound to lose myself in the violence building like poison in my veins.
The only positive of being locked in my bedroom—I was able to find my phone in the chaos of my discarded suit stained with blood on the ground. Thankfully, they didn't think to take it away. I was too foggy-headed before to even think about looking for it in my old pants pocket.
Fucking morons.
It’s possible they thought nothing would be on it, anyway. With AntiEyes installed, deleting messages, emails, and everything in between from prying eyes. They probably figured it was a lost cause. It also helps that Olivia has made my phone practically impenetrable and untraceable, as well.
Win-win for me. It’s like a damn fort without my fingerprint to enter.
It works to my advantage. Because the moment I opened my phone, I went straight to the tracking app to check Journey’s location.
On the plus side, she isn't buried under a tower in the middle of Briar Cove. On the downside, her tracker is currently blinking in the middle of the fucking ocean near a large island fifty miles off the coast of California. But I have a few ideas about why she might be there. However odd, my mother's words about her confinement come to mind.
Shadow’s dungeon beneath the ocean.
After witnessing my father’s bold lies straight to my face, I can only assume Shepp is with her. Hopefully comforting her through whatever they’re facing. They have each other, at least.
Fuck. I hope.
Red takes over my vision, darkening the world around me. Rage boils in my blood. Desperation claws at my flesh. If I can't get to my goddamn wife and best friend in the next twenty-four hours, I'm going on a murder spree.
They have to be alive.
Or I'll burn the goddamn world to ashes without an ounce of remorse and finally give into my violent tendencies.
Fuck. I pull at my hair again, reveling in the pain developing in my scalp. I need the physical ache to cope with the gaping black hole attacking my beating heart.
They're all gone, and I'm a sitting duck, forced to interact with a monster in waiting. Who somehow brought my mother back from whatever wasteland she crawled out of.
Did she get kidnapped by Shadow, as she claims?
I'll get to the bottom of everything. One step at a time.
They can bury all their truths as deeply as they want to. But I’ll dig them up—all of them.
First, I must focus on my plans and stop hyper-focusing on what I can't fix.
Don't think about things you can't fucking touch right now.
Useless. Fucking. Sitting. Duck.
Fuck!
I yank my hands from my hair before I remove every strand or irritate my right shoulder. I must keep my wits and stop focusing on the things I cannot change.
I'm losing it.
I blow out a breath, attempting to concentrate on the room. A tune I’ve been working on for Journey plays through my mind. The echo of my violin and the whine of the strings.
Anything to calm myself down from spiraling into the abyss of my mind.
I turn my back toward the door and inspect the barred window as I pull my phone out of my pocket. I'm sure once my jailers get wind that I have my phone, they'll take it from me—if they care.
And that can't happen.
Bringing up maps for the millionth time, I study the uncharted island where Journey's tracker taunts me. Shadow’s Island, no doubt. He has done well in hiding what is on it.
Blink. Again. Blink. The red dot does not move an inch. I blow out a breath, regaining my ever-slipping composure. One false move—I'll snap. Usually, that is not my department. That's Arrow's.
According to the Internet, nothing is on the island but vast tropical land featuring waterfalls and volcanic rocks. Oh, and island goats. According to the Internet, anyway. But nothing more about other inhabitants. People? More animals? Buildings?
No matter. I'll find out soon enough when I charter a boat with Veritas. I must play this smart, or I'll die. If I die, she dies. Arrow dies. Shepp dies–if he is where I think he is, anyway.
Their lives depend on me. And me alone.
I sigh, hiding my phone in my closet and locking my obsessive thoughts into a cage in my mind. Moving toward our bed, I plant myself on the edge, staring mindlessly ahead at the door, separating me from the rest of the house.
I'll give it to my father. He covered all his bases in keeping me compliant and secure here—isolated, trapped.
"Of course, Mr. Viotto." Aiden's muffled voice comes through the door, and his walky-talky buzzes to life with the sound of my father's muffled voice, demanding my presence.
Wonderful. He is such a dutiful, pathetic excuse for a human being. But he played me, now, didn't he? Slightly. I trust no one fully—only Arrow, Shepp, and even Journey, despite her spying ways.
My bedroom door flies open with more force than necessary. I eye the tiny nick in the wall, narrowing my eyes as the drywall sprinkles on the floor like snow. Slowly, I get up from the edge of the bed, glaring in his direction.
“Was that necessary?” I ask, shoving my hands into my slack pockets.
Aiden's jaw tics with agitation.
Good. Get angry.
“I’m curious. How did you hide your disdain for me so well?” I question, stepping forward.
Hook. Line. Sinker.
He snarls at me, eyeing me up and down. Loathing seeps from his pours like an acid working through the air.
“Wasn't easy,” he hisses. “But a job is a job.” Ah, that's all I was.
“So, another spy for the great Gabriel Viotto? What did he promise you? A pay raise? Promotion? Look at you now, babysitting the man you want to rip apart.” I grin manically when he steps up to me. “How about your coworkers? Any rats in the mix with you?”
Hit me. Give me a goddamn reason to remove your liver in one punch.
Nose to nose. I feel his putrid breath against my flesh, and darkness flashes in his eyes.
“Only me. I’m just that fucking good,” he growls in my face. So, that answers that. He acted alone. But that doesn’t put me at ease. My father could have had a million more spies on our ass that Aiden was unaware of. “I'd betray you again and again while watching you and your little friends play mafia boss.”
“Playing?” My head tilts when his face tightens more, if that's even possible. “I don't recall playing. If my memory serves me correctly, my boys and I had a good thing going for the community.” I raise a brow when the veins in his forehead rise off his flesh, looking as if they'll pop.
I grin more, the angrier he gets. A thrill rushes through me, sparking me back to life.
“You'll never be the king of this kingdom, asshole,” he hisses in a low tone, barely speaking.
“Oh? And who will? You?”
He tenses more, letting every letter of my words puncture through his skin and hit him right in the gut.
“You don't have what it takes, Aiden,” I whisper, pressing my nose into his. His eyes dart back and forth between mine, inspecting me like I do him. “You'll never be the king of this town or family. You don't have the guts.”
Perhaps it's a dare I have flung at him. Judging by the redness creeping up his neck, he knows I'm telling the truth.
There is no way Aiden will ever survive this family with a trigger finger and temper. He has not been trained like I have. I know how to weather Gabriel Viotto.
“You're in for a rude awakening,” he hisses, pushing me back a step.
For the record, I let him. I could stand my ground and pummel his face until he's unrecognizable. But I'm curious what secrets Aiden will let slip when his anger has him by the balls.
“Oh? Please elaborate,” I taunt.
Get a man emotional, and they'll tell you all the secrets written into their souls.
He grins, stepping back. “They're all gone. You don't have anyone left. Shepp is with Shadow.” Pride puffs out his chest. “Journey is with Shadow. Your father traded them for your mother. Oh, and the money. Also, Arrow is braindead.”
Thanks for confirming my suspicions, asshole.
“Your doing?” I ask, raising an unbothered brow when I’m anything but calm.
I am vengeful. Full of fucking violence, begging to come to the surface and rip his heart out.
All this confirming information will help when I make it to East Point Bluff and invade my cousin's house to regroup. Olivia Viotto. Secret government agent with Veritas. A higher up, too. In a pinch, she dedicates herself to helping the boys and me solve problems. I try not to bring too much fucked up shit to her doorstep. But this is unavoidable.
“Of course it was,” he growls, gnashing his teeth together before straightening his spine and washing away his visible emotions. “Now, you are being paged for dinner. Wear a jacket." Aiden scowls at me when I shrug and grab a nice suit jacket to throw over my white dress shirt.
"What a good lap dog you are," I quip, shouldering past him through the door. “Next, he'll pull out the peanut butter, slather it on his dick, and you'll lick it off without a fight.”
Aiden is more than a loyal little doggy. He's quite the informant. No wonder my father brought him on board to work for him and spy on our endeavors. Not that it matters. I still held Aiden at arm's length. Was there an ounce of trust there? Yes. Did I suspect he was a traitor? No.
That just makes me na?ve and pisses me off all in one go.
"I'm not a fucking dog," he hisses, catching up to me as I march down the stairs, jumping headfirst into whatever bullshit my father is about to pull.
I smirk, remembering those words from a vastly different mouth. A delicious mouth with plump lips and attitude for days—my strong Little Chaos. I can only hope she is fighting tooth and nail against Shadow and whatever he is having her do. If Aiden is correct, then Shepp is also by her side, keeping strong.
“Are you sure about that?” I whisper, eyeing him when his eyes flare in anger.
He says nothing when he grabs my arm again and drags me forward. Again, I let him. I could rip out his heart with my bare hands—which will happen later—but right now, I'm playing a part for my father: dutiful son, fully embracing his prison sentence.
Aiden grunts as he drags me into the beautifully decorated dining room. He says something to my father, who sits at the head of the table with a cocky smirk. Formal suit. Red tie. Dark hair styled to perfection. Even his face looks more healed than the last time I saw him at lunch. The bruises have faded beneath what looks like makeup. It’s such a shame. Those bruises deserve to shine and show that someone got the best of him.
Whoever got the jump on my father got him fucking good. I wonder how long it took him to recover. Surely, he got knocked out and laid on the ground for an extended period of time. Oh, to be a fly on the wall for that. In my heart, I hope it was Shepp. Visions of him leaping off stage to protect Journey run through my mind. The frantic tone of my voice and the worry lines creasing his forehead. Sheppard Mondelli reacts when pushed too far. Violently.
My timid mother sits to his left, leaving her eyes on the table and her hands resting in her lap. Nothing like the vibrant woman I remember from my childhood. She never let my father boss her around too much when I was a kid. Ever more the reason to wipe Shadow’s existence off the map.
Her tight black dress hugs her small frame. Diamonds drip from my mother's neck and ears. He's painted her up as the perfect mafia wife, sitting beside him without saying a word.
So meek and fragile.
It's odd to me, leaving me more than curious about where she came from and why she's back now. What’s her game? There has to be one. You don’t just mysteriously escape a prison you’ve been stuck in for twenty years without a plan. Or ulterior motives.
There's always a reason for everything. Despite her claims of being stuck in Shadow's prison, I can tell she's hiding skeletons in her closet. Loads of them. And they’re bound to spill out at some point.
I'm so focused on the snake sitting at the table that I almost miss the rest of the company slithering up to my father. Snakes, the lot of them, sit there with their smug grins and polite conversations.
Mr. and Mrs. Satin. Owner and operators of Satin Firearms.
Immediately, my eyes fall on the petite blonde sitting across from her parents. She daintily sips her wine, eyeing me with a familiar sparkle lighting up her eyes.
Chloe. Fucking. Satin.
I school my features, but dread fills my gut. If they're here, then that means only one thing. My father is moving quickly to secure a better future for himself. Fuck what I think about anything.
"So nice of you to join us, son. We've got a lot of planning to do," my father says, gesturing toward the seat between my mother and Chloe.
"Planning, you say?" I question, not bothering to argue when I take the seat.
I bite my tongue when Chloe Satin grins at me, seductively fluttering her fake eyelashes. If by seductive, I mean she looks like she's blinking cum out of her eyelashes while sucking on a lemon—then, yeah—seductively.
Fuck me. This meal is going to be painful—like pulling teeth.
"Wedding planning," she coos, resting a hand on my arm. "It's been decided!" She squeaks with excitement, slightly jostling me in my seat. My teeth grit from the pain of my flesh wound, and I gently remove her from my arm.
"Hmmm," I hum, not reacting to her words. “A wedding, you say?” My eyes dart to my father, who raises a brow for my compliance.
His expression screams—play your part or pay the price. There's the father I know and hate.
Right. He'd probably chop my fingers off to get me to comply with his demands. Whatever. I'll pretend this will come to fruition.
"Three weeks from now, on Saturday," my father says in a deep voice, "At the church. Father Amour will marry you. We've got the entire family coming in to witness the union." He raises a glass as a toast: "To the coming together of our family."
"Here, here," Mr. Satin proudly says, lifting his glass and slightly swaying.
My father could probably ask him for his kidney, and he'd comply. He’s a blind follower. Offering his daughter and money whenever needed. He’d probably throw in his company, too. I’m unsure what connection the two have, but I know something is there.
"Indeed," I say, lifting my glass without hesitation.
Despite wanting to light this entire house on fire with each of them tied to a chair, screaming as their flesh boils off, I'm playing a part. No amount of joy fills my being. Chloe insists on touching me, making me want to throw her to the lions. Hmmm. Not a bad idea. I bet they're hungry by now. I’m sure the zoo keeper Arrow keeps on staff has maintained their cage and gone about their duties. But what’s one more piece of meat for them to enjoy?
One thing I will never let my father catch onto is that I would rather claw my eyes out than show up to a wedding that would not even be valid.
If Journey is out there somewhere in the middle of the ocean with her tracker still intact, then I will find her. If she is floating, then I will float, too. I gave my life to that woman, and I will never let her out of my sight again. If it means never coming back here and marrying this conniving girl, then I am down.
"I can't wait," Chloe coos, leaning her head on my shoulder. "This was fate. You and me, Jericho. We have been destined for years. I have always had a crush on you.” Her breaths pick up as her hand drops to my leg under the table, stroking my thigh. Reaching below, I grab her hand and hold it hostage in my rough grip.
Her brows pucker, and a frown pulls at her lips.
Fate, my ass.
This is precisely why my father is locking me in this prison. And he will for the next few weeks until I walk down the aisle and cement whatever he's promised Mr. Satin.
A partnership? Obviously, this is something that was planned even before our initiation ball, regardless of my marriage to Journey.
How long? No clue.
My Journey was always the one promised to me. Not Chloe. Maybe that's why my father is pretending Journey has died so he can fulfill this plan he's been concocting.
My gaze discreetly finds my mother sitting silently next to my father. Her eyes scan his face, filled with love and devotion. My mind wanders to Shepp's mom, who has been by my father's side since her husband met his end.
"And where is your wife tonight?" I ask my father, raising a brow when he sips his drink.
"Beside me," he says, setting his crystal glass down.
"The other one," I say, tilting my head. "The one you married the moment her husband was placed in an urn."
My father's jaw stiffens with anger. "She didn't make it either. It's a shame the tower fell in on her and the others." He wants to say more but holds back, biting his tongue for whatever reason.
Interesting.
There's something in his eye, giving every single thought he has away. She's not gone. But he made her gone. Where did he stash the former Mrs. Mondelli? Surely, the woman deserves a break after suffering through Thomas and now, my father.
"There's no need to dwell on the past, darling," my mother says softly. "We're only looking to the future now." She reaches over and clasps his arm, gently squeezing him. Her head tilts as she continues to look at him with love sparkling in her light eyes.
"Yes, to the future. No more dwelling in the past, son. You've got a lot ahead of you."
"Like a wedding," I say stiffly, trying to shake Chloe off my shoulder, but she is relentless. She acts as if we have been in a relationship for years and do not have animosity toward one another. Besides, I am not the one she has eyes for. "And what about Leighton LeMaster?"
Chloe completely stills. "What about him?" she asks, raising her head to look into my eyes, giving me the fuel to my fire.
"You two were looking quite cozy at the initiation ball," I say with a smirk, sitting back in my seat.
That much I remember about that night. I remember our evening climbing on stage. But the rest? It's fucking fuzzy memory that I'm desperate to remember.
"He's a family friend, boy. No need to worry about him. She's all yours," Mr. Satin says gruffly, raising his brows at his daughter expectantly.
"Yes. All yours," she reaffirms with a shaky grin.
I will be out of here before she can cry over her missed opportunity with Leighton, with whom she is obviously in love. I will leave tonight to rescue Arrow from whatever hell he has been put under, and then I will go straight to Olivia. Only Veritas can help me find Journey now. I must trust that my wife is alive and well, even if it says she is in the ocean.
"Oh, darling, let me get you some more," my mother says softly, smiling at my father as she rises from the chair.
"Grace," he grumbles. "That's what the staff is for. They'll get me more."
"Nonsense. I’m eager to help," she argues, grabbing his crystal glass. "Does anyone else need a refill?" her brows raise when Mr. Satin agrees, and she takes both to the mini-bar with her back toward us.
My father rubs his temple, anger simmering under the surface of his skin. "She was always an independent woman," he quips through clenched teeth.
"They all start like that," Mr. Satin chuckles, throwing an arm over his wife's chair, who flinches at the action, eyeing her husband with fear.
Wonderful.
My mother gracefully sits their glasses in front of them with a soft smile, watching eagerly when they each take a sip of their drinks, and she sits down with her glass of wine.
"So, the wedding," my mother offers softly, with no apprehension. "Do you have a dress yet?"
Chloe's cheeks redden, causing my fists to clench. "Oh, yes."
"I bet it's simply gorgeous, like you, darling. Jericho is a lucky man," she says, sipping her drink.
"Lucky, indeed," I hum, keeping the sarcasm out of my voice. Or try to, at least. This has to be a dream, right? I’ve woken up in some alternate universe and need to find the wormhole to take me back.
Anxiety rises inside me like never before, clawing to be set free. The faster we get this dinner done and over with, the faster I can put my plan into motion. But if I give myself away too quickly, my father will know what I am planning. And for such a smart man, he’s too smug to realize that my escape is imminent.
The evening continues with several courses of a celebratory meal, including dessert. Conversation flows easily the drunker my father and Mr. Satin get. My mother sits stoically by my father's side, smiling at every word he says.
"It was wonderful to have you all over. I look forward to strengthening our relationship," my father says, putting an arm around my mother's shoulders.
How they've fallen into such a groove with their relationship already, I don't have a clue. I always knew he loved her more than life itself, but it's odd to see after witnessing such a cold man all these years.
"I look forward to it, Gabe," Mr. Satin rumbles, shaking my father's hand before they all walk out the door with full bellies and the promise to unite our families under marriage.
"Aiden!" my father says, slightly coughing.
"Yes, sir?" Aiden asks stiffly, walking into the foyer with a grim expression.
"Escort Jericho to his room and stand guard for the night." My father's eyes cut to me, down to the bone like a laser. "Make sure he doesn't step out of there until morning when he’s needed again. We have a golf outing with Mr. Satin and his daughter.”
Golf. What a joy.
"And why is that, Father?" I question, shoving my hands into my pockets. "Do you think I'm going to run for the hills?" I raise a brow when he slightly coughs again, shaking his head.
"I know you better than you think I do, son. But I've got my eyes on you. You don't have your little friends to control. You're under my thumb now. I made sure of it." He grins like he's won already.
"How ironic you don't trust me," I quip, stepping up to him slightly. "What are you afraid of?" That I'll slit your throat? I'll ensure you're in the ground when I take over this business and weed out the bad people.
He's taken the Viotto family off track, and it's snowballing into bigger mistakes.
My father clears his throat. "Of course, I don't trust you," he grunts, heaving a breath. "You've been undermining me since the moment you were semi-initiated at sixteen. I am nipping you in the bud before you can even fucking sprout," he growls, squaring his shoulders.
"Of course," I say with a straight face.
"Here's the deal, you ungrateful shit," he breathes heavily, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt. "You will walk down the aisle and say I do with Chloe fucking Satin. You'll take her to your swanky little home and create heirs. You will do as you're fucking told. I have the doctors at the hospital on standby. The moment you walk out of this house without marrying her, I'll have them inject Arrow with a toxic cocktail of medications that will stop his heart within a matter of seconds." He grins at that, loving what he holds over my head. "Now, go to your fucking room while your mother and I reconnect some more." He shoves me away, knocking me slightly back, but I catch myself.
"Have a wonderful evening, Mother," I say, bowing slightly as her eyes widen at my father's words.
"Have a wonderful night, dear," she says softly, watching me head toward the stairs with Aiden on my tail.
"I'll be outside your room all night. You fucking leave, and he'll gut me."
No, I want to say. I'll be the one to gut you. But I don't. I keep my lips sealed as he escorts me into my bedroom.
"Don't worry, Aiden. I'll be here all night." I smile, tilting my head when he nods.
"Better be, asshole. Don't mess up my job here."
Ah, of course. It's the job he seems to love.
It only takes a few hours for the house to quiet down. Doors slam. People settle in.
And Aiden stands guard right outside my bedroom door, standing tall.
A sitting duck waiting for me to strike.