Chapter 6 - The Brother
Mave stared at Vincent, completely stunned.
“Julian?” Mave asked, struggling to process the information.
“But Julian has been running the European operations in Milan for two years.”
“He hasn't been in New York since your father’s funeral.”
Vincent leaned his head back against the leather seat, closing his eyes against the pain.
“Apparently, he came home early,” Vincent said softly.
“And he brought a lot of C4 with him.”
Leo gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white.
“Why would Julian betray you, boss?” Leo asked.
“He’s your blood.”
Vincent let out a slow, exhausted breath.
“Julian always believed my father intended to leave the syndicate to him.”
“He thought I was too diplomatic to run the family.”
“He probably partnered with the Rossi family to orchestrate a hostile takeover.”
“He frames Marcus, kills him to tie up loose ends, and then blows me up in the warehouse.”
It was brilliant.
It was utterly, terrifyingly ruthless.
And it almost worked.
“We can't go to Connecticut,” Vincent ordered suddenly, opening his eyes.
“Julian knows about the secondary safe house.”
“If he’s running the operation, every property we own is compromised.”
“Where do we go?” Leo asked, glancing nervously at the fuel gauge.
Mave sat up straight, her mind racing.
“My apartment,” Mave declared.
Vincent and Leo both looked at her in surprise.
“Julian doesn't know where I live,” Mave explained rapidly.
“I pay rent under a DBA, and my lease is completely off the grid.”
“It’s the one place they won't look for the head of the Costa Syndicate.”
Vincent stared at her for a long moment, evaluating the risk.
He finally nodded.
“Take us to Mave’s apartment, Leo.”
They arrived at the modest, pre-war building in Brooklyn twenty minutes later.
Leo carried Vincent up the three flights of stairs, bypassing the broken elevator.
Mave unlocked her door and quickly ushered them inside her small, tidy living room.
“Put him on the couch,” Mave instructed, running to the bathroom for her advanced medical kit.
She spent the next thirty minutes carefully cleaning and stitching the deep graze along Vincent’s ribs.
He didn't flinch once, simply watching her hands with quiet intensity.
When she finished, she stood up to throw away the bloody towels.
Vincent grabbed her wrist gently, stopping her.
“Thank you,” Vincent said softly, his dark eyes locking onto hers.
Mave swallowed hard, her heart fluttering nervously.
“It’s just logistics, Mr. Costa,” Mave murmured, pulling her hand away.
“Getting you from bleeding to not bleeding.”
Vincent offered a small, exhausted smile.
“Call me Vincent.”
Before Mave could reply, Leo burst out of the small kitchen, holding his ringing burner phone.
May you like
“Boss,” Leo said, his face completely pale.
“It’s Julian.”
