Page 52 of Lucky
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—ourfamily—is everything.
And I’ll be damned if I let him lose that, too.
27
LUCKY
The Jekyll flips the life-size screen on, and we wait in anticipation as Ryder appears on a split screen and focuses another image on the second screen.
"Daniel Russo," Ryder starts, his voice steady but carrying a weight I can’t ignore. He splits the screen, and Daniel’s face is replaced with another image—an older photo of another man, wearing a casual smile that doesn’t belong in this room. A grainy photo of Daniel Russo now accompanies a clear shot of someone else:Daniel Morrison.
The room goes quiet for a split second, like the air has suddenly thickened. The Jekyll, leaning forward with all his weight on his arms against the table, eyes narrowing as he processes the information, already knows something’s coming. Caleph shifts on his feet, his restlessness evident, but he’s still listening, every muscle taut as he waits for the punchline.
“Everything the Viccis had on file for him was wrong,” Ryder adds casually, but I can see it—he’s enjoying the discomfort he’s about to stir. “None of it adds up.”
I can feel the collective tension in the room as the men exchange looks—those looks that say everything without a singleword being spoken. They already know where this is heading, and it’s not good for anyone who thought they had this man figured out.
“Give it,” Caleph mutters, shifting again. He’s done with the build-up and wants the facts. The men from Seattle—tired, itching to get back to their families—fidget in their seats. Allegra had suggested bringing their wives for a visit, but they balked at the idea. They’d be damned before dragging their loved ones into this mess.
“Daniel Russo,” Ryder continues, undeterred. “Real name? Daniel Morrison.”
I feel my eyes nearly pop out of their sockets at the revelation, my pulse quickening, but I don’t say a word. I just wait, as we all do, for Ryder to fill in the gaps.
"And who the fuck is Daniel Morrison?" Scar asks, his voice a growl, the question already hanging in the air before he speaks it.
Ryder doesn’t flinch. He leans into the tension like it fuels him. “The result of an affair Silvio Vicci had before he married Edie Marchant.”
A long, heavy silence settles over the room, suffocating the air. You could feel the collective weight of that bombshell drop like a stone into water, ripples of disbelief spreading through each of us.
“Silvio fathered Daniel before he married Edie. All indications are that he never knew about the child.”
It’s Brando who speaks next, his voice sharper than usual. “Yet somehow, Morrison ended up employed at Vicci.”
Ryder lets out a long breath, a quiet sigh. It’s almost like he can’t believe it either, but he’s in too deep now to back down. He leans forward, eyes flashing with certainty.
“Which means,” he continues, “this was a carefully orchestrated attack on the Vicci family, right from the start.Daniel Morrison knew exactly what he was doing. He legally changed his name, made sure he fit in. HeknewSilvio would never hire anyone without Italian blood, so he manufactured a whole new identity for himself. He blended right in.”
I feel a cold weight press against my chest. A name, a history, an identity all crafted from the shadows of Silvio’s past. This wasn’t some random vendetta. This was something calculated. Something planned.
“Why?” Dante asks, his voice low, the question cutting through the thick air. “Why would he go to all that trouble?”
Ryder exhales, deep and slow. The kind of exhale you only hear when someone’s holding back something bigger than they’re willing to admit.
“Because,” Ryder says, each word measured, “it gave him an in with the family. It opened the door for him to get close to Silvio, and in his mind? To take his place as the rightful head of the Vicci family.”
The room goes deathly still, like we’re all waiting for the punch to land. And when it does, it’s a blow to the gut.
“How long has he been working for the Viccis?” Brando asks, his voice tight.
“Four years,” Ryder responds, without missing a beat. “At first, it was about getting close to Silvio, learning everything he could. But over time? His plan evolved. He tasted power, and he got hungry for more.”