Page 29 of Lucky
“Jack Vicci isn’t missing. Nor is he dead,” I start bluntly, watching their reactions. Brando’s eyebrows shoot up, and Scar’s expression hardens, his jaw tightening as he waits for me to elaborate. “He survived a hit a few months ago. Barely. He’s confined to a wheelchair, extensive injuries. His sister has been keeping him hidden while she tries to maintain control of the family.”
Scar leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly. “And what does that mean for us?”
“It means their house is crumbling faster than we thought. Jacklyn’s losing control, her men are rebelling, and Daniel Russo’s taking advantage of the chaos. He hijacked an arms deal meant for Jacklyn. Those weapons? They’re now in his hands,and he’s gearing up for war. Against her. And who knows who else.”
Brando whistles low. “That’s a hell of a mess.”
“It gets worse,” I continue. “The Vicci soldiers aren’t just defecting—they’re imploding. Infighting, betrayals, anarchy. If this continues, there won’t be any Viccis left. But if we make a move now, we risk setting off a chain reaction that could burn the entire city.”
Scar nods slowly, processing the information. “They’re going to destroy themselves.”
“And Jack Vicci?” Brando asks. “Does he matter in all of this?”
“He matters to Jacklyn,” I say. “She’s risking everything to protect him. That makes him her Achilles’ heel. But until we know her endgame, he’s untouchable. Last I heard, she was trying to get him out of the country.”
Scar strokes his chin thoughtfully. “You think she’ll come to us?”
“Not after the fight at my club. I made it pretty clear to her that the Vicci family is on my hitlist.”
“If the infighting doesn’t kill her first,” Scar says. “Right now, she’s fighting on all fronts. If she makes it through, she’ll need allies. And when she does, we’ll be there. On our terms.”
Brando taps his fingers on the table. “She won’t make it, brother. She’s got her work cut out for her; it’s only a matter of time before she crumbles. And I don’t feel good about that.”
“She should have come to us after the hit on her brother,” I remind them. “If she had, perhaps none of this would be happening.”
“Perhaps she has no idea who to trust.” This from Brando, who would martyr himself to save a damsel in distress.
“This has gone on long enough,” Scar says, as he rises from his chair. “The city’s teetering on the brink of madness, and it’s a chaos that none of us need. It’s time to call Seattle.”
15
JACKLYN
Idon’t know why I thought that the mere essence of the Vicci blood running in my veins would be enough to buy the loyalty of the men who once worked for my brother, some even for my father before him.
But the betrayal that comes is swift and brutal. It sparks a chain of events and buries me deeper into the ground with the other families. It’s not just a few rogue soldiers acting on their own. The virus has spread. The betrayal is a coordinated effort—a collective decision by those closest to me, the men I’m supposed to trust with my life, and it started with that fuckwit Falcone, who infected my ranks like a damn gnawing virus.
The knowledge stings like a fresh wound. If he weren’t already dead, I’d take a gun to his head myself.
I’m no stranger to backstabbing or the fragility of loyalty. But even I hadn’t anticipated how quickly loyalties would shift. The problem is no longer just the traitors within my own family; it is the Cavallos, the Gattis, the vultures circling my empire, waiting for any sign of weakness so they can strike. Everyone wants a fucking piece of me.
But I’m not about to let that happen. Not now. Not ever.
My hand, clenched in a fist at my side, shakes with the weight of the decision I’m about to make. I’m not just fighting for control; I’m fighting for survival. And in my world, survival comes at a price. I know this all too well; my brother Jack is the perfect example of that.
I stand at the head of the long, polished table, my hands gripping the edge so tightly, my knuckles turn white. The room buzzes with tension, the air thick with the weight of unspoken accusations and barely concealed contempt. The dissidents—my former allies turned adversaries—occupy the chairs before me. Their faces are a mix of smug defiance and simmering resentment. They dare to defy me, even as they live under my own roof. If it weren’t for the sentimentality of the house my father built, I would’ve burnt the damn thing down with every traitor in it.
There are a handful of men I’ve called together to this meeting, mainly the ones who have been the most vocal in questioning my reign. Sergio and Marco stand, ever the loyal watchdogs, although I’ve warned them not to get involved unless it’s absolutely necessary. I need these men to understand that I’m not as flimsy as they think.
“I called this meeting,” I begin, my voice calm even as I struggle to maintain my composure. I’m in a room full of men, more than half of which are just waiting for me to fall flat on my face so they can tear each other apart over my throne. “I’m here to address your grievances and remind you of the stakes. Our goals are too important to be derailed by petty infighting.”
A man near the center of the table scoffs. “Petty? You mean questioning your unilateral decisions? This is not what we signed up for – a woman cannot lead this family!”
My jaw tightens. “Are you questioning my authority, Enzo? This ismyfamily. The family my own father built with his blood. What gives you the right to tell me I can’t rule it?”
The room murmurs. Enzo leans back in his chair, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. He’s a short, round man with not much going for him, who remains on our payroll only out of some misguided pity Jack had not to remove anyone that had previously worked for our father.
“You want the leadership?” he spits at me, his voice venomous. “Honey, they’re going to tear you to pieces.”