Vicious Minds: Part 3 (Children of Vice 6)

I cracked my jaw to the side, now annoyed with the mere question. I glanced down at the phone again. “Who the fuck sends their little girl to a rapist?”

“The son of a rapist,” she answered with ease.

“What?”

“Roman Affini used to be Michelangelo Orsini—the only son of Fiorello Orsini, after your father killed his other sons.”

Now it was coming together. “That nobody family you insist on inviting to all our damn events because you think they’re out for revenge? How long has it been? You warned me about them when we got married. And they have done nothing but make lipstick and eyeshadow. Now you are worrying about why their daughter is going to live with her crazy rapist grandfather?”

“No one just lets go of their children’s murders. My gut tells me something is very wrong with that family. I just can’t put my finger on it. I’m missing something.”

I sighed, tossing the phone onto the table. “So, what do you want to do? Go massacre them all?”

“I knew you would fucking dismiss me,” she cussed, rising from the chair.

“I’m not dismissing you.” I sort of was. “I’m just saying, a plane ticket is not evidence of some massive plot against our family.”

“She told me she was going to get stronger.” She stared me down. “And now she’s going to hell…where a little girl becomes ash or a phoenix.”

“How poetic,” I replied, rising to my feet. “But we have actual enemies to face now. Today. Let’s not make new ones. L

ike I said before, if it bothers you, let’s just kill them and move on. But you need to keep in mind that we aren’t going to have loyal followers if we keep killing off loyal families. Their family hasn’t done anything to us. You’ve checked.”

“You’re reminding me? I’m the one who told you that. You know what? Nevermind. Whatever. This is why I didn’t want to talk to you about this to begin with. I’m going—”

“Relax,” I said, placing my hand on her thigh. Seeing the look on her face, I couldn’t help myself. “You can’t plan to kill little girls with a scowl on your face. You’ll look like a Disney villain—Ah!” I grabbed my nose, taking a step back from the force of her punch. Any harder and she would have broken it!

“Careful, you can’t keep being annoying and getting hit like that. You’re not as young as you used to be. You might end up like Humpty Dumpty,” she snapped back, stepping around the desk toward the door.

“Love you, too,” I grumbled, rubbing my nose.

SLAM.

Over the pain, I rolled my eyes and lifted her forgotten phone, looking over the plane ticket again.

“Her gut,” I muttered.

What possible trouble could a little nobody girl cause?

But it was weird her parents would just send her away. Nope, not falling down that rabbit hole. One of us obsessing over future threats was enough. Calliope Affini or Orsini, or whatever, was not my fucking problem.

LIAM—PRESENT

Calliope Affini or Orsini, or whatever the fuck her name is, is now my fucking problem!

BANG!

“For fucking fuck’s sake!” I hollered, tossing the body off me and to the side like the sack of shit it was. Grabbing the staircase railing, I pulled myself up off the ground. “I am too old for this goddamn shit!”

“Will you please stop yelling?” Melody asked as she moved between the bodies on the ground.

“No, I will not stop yelling. In fact, I haven’t even begun to really motherfucking yell.” I glared and pointed to the security camera. “You! Yes, I mean you, motherfuckers! You shit face, bitch-ass cunt-nut bastards. It has been a goddamn year. I’m tired of killing you, every other fucking bloody day. Come out, and let’s fucking finish this.”

“The security feed was cut an hour ago,” she said, calmly rising to her feet to stand in front of me. Blood was splattered across her face, soaking her hands. Her hair had fallen out of the braid, and she had cuts on her lips and eyebrow. “No one is hearing you bitch but me.”

Pausing, holding my gun in one hand and the rail with the other, exhaling deeply, I finally found the strength to speak again. “For the last year, I’ve been shot about a dozen times, broke about half as many bones, nearly lost my eye, gotten a chunk of my hair ripped out, and now…” I pointed to my pants. “I’ve been vomited on like a garbage disposable by a midget assassin because why wouldn’t there be a dwarf assassin in this carnival of fucking freak show murders? Next, I’m sure well be fighting the clown, IT! All that said, I think I’ve earned the right to bitch just a little bit.”

“Sure, but does it have to be at me?” she asked. “Yeah, remember me? The woman who has been by your side, getting my bones broken, getting shot at, nearly burned alive. I’d like to bitch, too, but we don’t have time. Maybe next time when I tell you twenty years in advance to be worried—”