8: The Viper’s Nest

CHAPTER EIGHT,

POV: Julian Vane

The silver ring on my finger felt like a brand of hot iron. Every time I looked at it, I saw Leo’s face as the bullet hit his shoulder the look of pure, unadulterated shock that I, the "useless" brother, had actually pulled the trigger.

I was sitting in the back of the Moretti library, a room that smelled of old parchment and expensive bourbon. I wasn't reading. I was staring at the wall, waiting for the adrenaline to stop vibrating in my bones.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, Little Prince."

I didn't need to turn around to know it was Enzo. Dante’s right-hand man had been a shadow in the corner of my eye since I arrived. He was a man made of scars and bad intentions, and he hated me with an almost impressive purity.

"I’m busy, Enzo," I said, not looking back.

"Busy doing what? Mourning the family you betrayed? Or wondering when Dante is going to realize you’re more trouble than you’re worth?" Enzo stepped into my line of sight. He was tossing a small, jagged coin in the air a Moretti "blood coin" used for marking hits.

"Dante seems satisfied with my performance," I replied, finally meeting his gaze. I kept my voice steady, though my heart was starting to thrum again. "I believe I saved his shipment tonight."

Enzo laughed, a dry, rasping sound. "You saved nothing. You made a mess. Dante likes a clean kill, not a wounded animal that can still talk to the police. You left Leo alive. That’s a mistake a Moretti wouldn't make."

He leaned over the table, his shadow falling across me. "Dante is blinded by your face and your name. But the rest of the family? We see you for what you are. A liability. A Vane spy wearing a Moretti ring."

"If you have a problem with me, take it up with your boss," I said, standing up. I tried to walk past him, but he stepped into my path, his massive frame blocking the exit.

"Dante is away at the Council meeting. He won't be back until morning." Enzo’s eyes glinted with a dark, malicious light. "There’s a situation at the South Side warehouse. A group of Marcus’s men were spotted trying to reclaim the seized heroin. Since you’re so eager to prove you’re one of us... You’re coming with me to handle it."

"Dante told me to stay at the estate," I reminded him.

"Dante told me to handle the warehouse. And I’m telling you to earn your keep. Unless, of course, the Prince is too scared to get his hands dirty again?"

It was a trap. I knew it the moment the words left his mouth. But my pride, the last remaining shard of the Vane legacy, wouldn't let me back down. If I stayed here, I would be a prisoner. If I went, I was a Moretti.

"Fine," I said, my jaw tightening. "Let’s go."

The drive to the South Side was silent. Enzo sat in the front of the black SUV, whispering to two of his loyalists. I sat in the back, checking the weight of the Beretta in my holster. My ribs still ached from the training session with Dante, but the pain felt like a tether, keeping me grounded.

The warehouse was a skeleton of rusted steel and broken glass. It was situated in the "no man's land" between the Vane and Moretti territories.

"They’re inside," Enzo whispered as we hopped the perimeter fence. "Three of them. We go in quietly. You take the point, Julian. Show us that 'Golden Prince' aim."

He handed me a silencer. I screwed it onto the barrel, my fingers steady despite the cold wind whipping off the river. I moved toward the side entrance, my boots crunching softly on the gravel.

I pushed the door open. It was pitch black inside, the only light coming from the moon filtering through the holes in the roof. I moved forward, my senses on high alert. I could hear breathing.

I turned the corner, my gun raised and stopped.

There were no guards. There was no heroin.

There was only a single chair in the middle of the room, and on it sat a man tied and gagged. He was wearing a Moretti security uniform. His eyes were wide with terror, and his white shirt was soaked in blood.

"Enzo?" I whispered, spinning around.

The doorway was empty. Enzo and his men were gone.

Suddenly, the heavy steel shutters of the warehouse slammed shut with a deafening roar. The overhead lights flickered on, blinding me for a second.

"Julian Vane," a voice boomed over the intercom. It wasn't Enzo’s voice. It was Marcus. My oldest brother. "I knew you were stupid, but I didn't think you were suicidal."

I looked up at the glass-walled office overlooking the warehouse floor. Marcus was standing there, a cigarette in one hand and a remote detonator in the other. Beside him stood Enzo, looking down at me with a smirk that told me everything I needed to know.

Enzo hadn't just set me up. He had sold me back to my brothers.

"Enzo, you traitor," I hissed, though I knew he couldn't hear me through the glass.

"He’s not a traitor, Julian," Marcus’s voice crackled through the speakers. "He’s a businessman. He realized that Dante’s obsession with you was going to get his men killed. So, we made a trade. I get you back to finish what we started, and Enzo gets to be the new head of the Moretti family once Dante 'accidentally' dies of grief."

My heart plummeted. They weren't just after me. They were using me as bait to kill Dante.

"Dante will kill you both," I shouted, my voice echoing in the hollow space.

"Dante isn't here," Marcus sneered. "And by the time he finds out you’re missing, there won't be enough of you left to bury. But don't worry, little brother. I’m not going to kill you yet. I’m going to make you sign the annulment first. I want the Vane name back."

The door at the far end of the warehouse opened, and four men stepped out, armed with heavy iron pipes and tasers. They weren't looking for a gunfight. They wanted to break me.

I gripped my Beretta. I had fifteen rounds in the magazine. Four men in front of me, two traitors in the office above, and a locked warehouse filled with shadows.

I looked at the silver ring on my finger.

A Moretti creates the opening, Dante had said.

I didn't aim for the men. I aimed for the gas lines running along the ceiling.

"If I'm going to hell, Marcus," I yelled, aiming. "I'm taking your warehouse with me!"

I pulled the trigger.