by L A Cotton
Villain of Secrets
A Verona Legacy Story
L A Cotton
Published by Delesty Books
VILLAIN OF SECRETS
First eBook Edition
Copyright © L A Cotton 2021
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.
Edited by Andrea M Long
Proofread by Sisters Get Lit(erary) Author Services
Cover Designed by Lianne Cotton
Image Licensed from Michelle Lancaster Photography
Contents
Verona Legacy
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Playlist
Author’s Note
About the Author
Verona Legacy
Prince of Hearts
King of Souls
Villain of Secrets
True love cannot be found where it does not exist, nor can it be denied where it does.
Unknown
Prologue
“Lorenzo, get over here,” my dad yelled, waving his hunting knife in the air.
I dropped the ball and jogged over to him and Uncle Toni. “What’s up, Papà?”
“You ever skin a rabbit, kid?”
My brows crinkled as I leaned over his shoulder and saw the bloodied fur. “No, I didn’t ever skin a rabbit.” The words got stuck in my throat. Poor little thing looked like it had been skewered wide open. But there was something fascinating about the way its eyes stared back at me. Empty. Lifeless.
When our Nono died, Aunt Lucia said it was only the physical body that was gone. That the eternal part of a person, their soul, would go on to the afterlife.
Was there an afterlife for rabbits?
“You want to learn?” My father’s gruff voice yanked me from my thoughts.
Uncle Toni tsked. “Vin, leave the kid alone. He’s nine.”
“Ten,” I said, proudly. “I’ll be ten in a few days.”
“Nothing wrong with toughening him up, mio fratello. He might be nine now, but he won’t stay that way for long. Here, Son.” He thrust the blood-stained knife at me. My hand trembled as it curled around the hilt. Sunlight bounced off the blade, making the drops of blood shimmer.
It was the holidays, and me and my dad were out at one of our family’s cabins in the Blackstone Reserve. We came every year—me and my dad, Uncle Toni and Uncle Michele, and my cousins, Nicco, and Matteo—while the women stayed at home and prepared for the holidays.
My dad said shit like that was for women to take care of. He said that it was better to get out of the way while they were doing their thing. Whatever that meant.
He didn’t seem to like my aunts very much. My dad didn’t really like anyone much. I liked them though. I liked how they always made a fuss over the kids, over me. Growing up without a mom, I’d craved their warm smiles and gentle touch. They were so warm and touchy feely compared to my father. But I was growing now, and I wanted to be tough like him, like my uncles.
I didn’t like my girl cousins so much either. They were annoying: always laughing and giggling and talking about stupid girl stuff. I was glad I didn’t have a sister like Nicco and Matteo, but a brother would have been nice. Someone to talk to when my dad was out, which was a lot.
My dad didn’t like to show his feelings. I often wondered if it was because my mom died when I was born, and he was left with me. Sometimes he acted like I was nothing more than a burden. But then there were other times, like right now, when he looked at me with so much intensity, I knew without doubt that he loved me.
“Come on, figlio mio. Hunting is a rite of passage. It makes you a man. Besides, what’s a little blood on your hands.” He chuckled darkly, sending a shiver racing down my spine.
Frozen in place, my hand trembled as I stared down at the lifeless animal. I didn’t want to skin the poor thing—it sounded messy and disgusting—but I wanted to please my dad. I wanted him to look at me with pride in his eyes, the way Uncle Toni always looked at Nicco.
“What do I have to do?” I asked, trying to disguise the quiver in my voice.
“Vincenzo,” Uncle Michele muttered, but my dad ignored him.
I glanced back at my cousins playing in the snow. It was only a thin layer right now, enough to make them slip and slide as they ducked and dodged snowballs.
Sometimes I wondered why their dads didn’t want them to learn this stuff. Michele, not so much. He was different to Uncle Toni and my dad. Softer. Calmer. He rarely raised his voice or hand to anyone. But he was always watching. Always taking everything in.
Uncle Toni was the eldest, the head of the family. After our Nono died a few years ago, he had stepped into his role. I was used to being over at Nicco’s house. He was my best friend. But something was different about it now.
We weren’t supposed to talk about it, but I knew who my family were. I knew what they did. Me, Matteo, and Nicco often snooped on their business talks at Nicco’s house.
“Lorenzo,” my father snapped, jolting me from my thoughts. “We don’t got all day, ragazzino.”
Ragazzino.
I hated that word. I might have only been ten minus a few days, but I wasn’t a kid. I’d practically raised myself. I didn’t have a mom around to fuss over me, and Dad’s constant string of women never stayed more than one night. We had a housekeeper, Greta, but she barely spoke a word of English. She made good cannoli though.
“What do I do?” I repeated, my stomach a tight ball of nerves.
“Get down here.” He grabbed me by the arm and yanked me down onto the overturned log, right at the same time as Uncle Michele got up.
“I’m going to warm up.”
“Pussy,” my father grumbled, and something passed between them.
“Bloodthirsty coglioni.” Uncle Toni got up too, squeezing my father on the shoulder. “Go easy on the boy.”
My brows crinkled. I didn’t understand what they were talking about. But I still had the knife in my hand and my father’s icy stare drilling holes into the side of my head.
“Pinch its hide and cut it near the base of the neck.”
My fingers trembled as I reached for the dead animal. The blood was cold and sticky as my hand slid into the wet fur.
“Good, now make the cut,” my father barked at my hesitation. I dry heaved as the blade slid into it like butter, but no more blood spilled.
Puke rushed up my throat, but I swallowed it down as I began unwrapping the rabbit like a candy sucker. It was all kinds of messed up seeing the flesh and bone underneath, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the helpless thing.
“Good, Lorenzo, good.” My dad gripped my shoulder. “Now we make little cuts around the feet here,” he sliced the fur, “and here, see. Then we can pull out the legs.”
“Holy crap,” I breathed as he helped me.
“What do you think?”
“It’s… gross but kinda cool.”
Laughter rumbled deep in his chest. “You are more my son than I give you credit for.” He stared at me in that intense way of his. I didn’t know what he meant, but I liked hearing him say it. All I ever wanted was to make my dad proud. To get him to pay attention to me the way Uncles Toni and Michele doted on my cousins.
“Good, Lorenzo, good. Now we can remove the guts.”
“Th-the guts?” I dry heaved, and he chuckled.
“But of course. We can’t eat the guts, Son.”
“It’ll be bloody?” My eyes were fixated on the animal’s rounded stomach.
“There will be some blood, but it’s small. It won’t be as bad as something bigger.”
“Like a deer?”
“Exactly.” He gently gripped my wrist and guided my hand—and the knife—back toward the rabbit. “You’ll have to cut through the membrane and scoop out the entrails with your fingers.” He continued forcing my hand until the knife slid into the rabbit’s stomach. Blood gurgled around the blade and I squirmed.
“Surely you’re not scared of a little blood?”
“N-no,” I said, breathing through my nose, hating the way it made my stomach roll. I wanted to be strong like my dad. Like Uncles Toni and Michele.
I didn’t want to get all squeamish at a little blood.
Animal blood, no less.
Pushing past the urge to puke all over myself, I pulled the rabbit’s insides out. The snow around our feet ran red with the splatters of entrails.
“I did it,” I said, puffing out my chest, feeling a lick of satisfaction zip up my spine.
When my father had handed me the hunting knife, I hadn’t wanted to do it. Nicco and Matteo weren’t expected to do such grim things. They were here enjoying the cabin and the snow and hunting, but then they were left to goof around because their fathers weren’t like mine. They didn’t push and push and push.
“I’m proud of you, Lorenzo, you did good.”
“Yeah?” I grinned. I couldn’t help it. Praise from my father was rare. You had to enjoy it while it lasted.
“Yes.” He gave me a stiff nod, gripping my jaw, smearing his bloody fingers all over my face. “You have so much to learn about the world, about this life…” he trailed off.
“About what you and my uncles do?” The words spilled out before I could stop them.
His eyes narrowed, a flash of surprise there. “What do you know about what me and your uncles do?”
“I know some things…” My voice wobbled.
“So eager to grow up.” He smirked. “There is time. One day soon, Lorenzo. Soon.”
I knew we were done here. This rare father-son moment was over, and I’d go back to being nothing more than a pain in his ass.
“Go on. Go clean up and play with your cousins.”
“Okay.” My head hung low as I moved around him. But at the last second, he snagged my wrist and hope swelled in my chest.
Maybe he wanted to hang out some more. Even if we were skinning rabbits, it was better than him pretending I didn’t exist.
I waited, my mouth hanging open like a dog waiting for scraps. “P-Papà?” I said, filling the heavy silence.
And then he said seven little words that would one day mean everything to me.
“Blood is life, Lorenzo. Never forget that.”
Chapter 1
Enzo
“E, that’s enough.” My cousin Matteo’s voice barely penetrated the roar of adrenaline in my ears as I drove my brass knuckles into the guy’s face. The skin along his cheekbone split wide open, blood spraying into the air like a fine mist.
“Stop,” he whimpered, trying desperately to clutch at my arm. “Please, stop.”
“I’ll stop when you tell us what we need to know, stronzo.”
“I-I already told you… I don’t know nothing.”
Whack.
I hit him again.
His face was a mangled mess, but I didn’t care. The asshole was a rat, the lowest of the low. He could rot in hell for all I cared. I was only here to get answers.
“I’m gonna ask you again, tell me what the fuck you know?”
He trembled like a pussy, a wet patch staining his pants, the smell of piss permeating the already stale air. “I-I… please…” His right eye was swollen shut, his lips puffy and sore.
I raised my fist, ready to lay into him again, but Matteo snagged my wrist. “Enough,” he snapped. Our eyes met, and I saw the disapproval shining there.
My cousin never did like getting his hands dirty. He was a lover, not a fighter. But love didn’t get you anywhere, especially not in our business.
“I suggest you let me the fuck go, cousin,” I seethed.
“I’m not going to let you do this, E. Uncle Toni’s orders were to feel the guy out, not leave his eyeball hanging out of its socket.”
“He knows who pulled that shit at Johnny Morello’s.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” He lowered his voice as if the guy currently tied to the chair could think about anything besides the pain he was in. “But I’m not about to let you kill the guy because you’re looking for something to take your anger out on.”
“It’s not your call to make,” I gritted out, feeling a lick of irritation.
Matt didn’t get it.
Nobody did.
I needed this.
I needed to feel the crunch of flesh under my brass knuckles. I needed to hear the grunts of pain. I needed the cloying stench of blood.
I needed it all.
“No,” he yanked out his cell phone, “but it’s not yours either.”
Fuck.
Fuck!
“I won’t let you do this, E. You want to go into self-destruct mode, fine. I get it. But I won’t stand by and watch you lose yourself. So you can either back the fuck up, or I can call for back up.” He pinned me with a look that said he wasn’t going to give me a choice.
“You never did have the balls for this life, coglioni.” I spat the words out, tearing off my brass knuckles and shouldering past him.
I heard his long exhale of relief, but it didn’t tamper the anger vibrating inside me.
The guy tied to the chair, bleeding out, was a rat.
A traitor.
He deserved everything he had coming to him and more.
Barreling through the back door of the club where we sometimes handled business, I spilled out into the inky night. It was New Year’s Eve, and it was fucking freezing. When I inhaled a ragged breath, it burned my lungs, but no more than the smoke I was about to light up.
Matteo found me a few minutes later, sucking on the cigarette as if my life depended on it. “Those fucking things will kill you,” he grumbled, wafting the tendrils of smoke away.
“It’s this or I go back in there and finish what I started.”
“What the fuck has gotten into you?” His expression softened with concern.
“Like you really have to ask.”
He knew.
The entire Family knew.
“Look,” he let out a sigh, “I know it was a shock, but it’s been weeks. Vincen—”
“Don’t. Just don’t.” I clipped out.
You couldn’t put a timeline on discovering your father, the man who rai
sed you, the man who pledged his entire life to the Family was a traitorous piece of shit who had betrayed us.
Betrayed me.
There were days when I still couldn’t believe it. Vincenzo Marchetti was the boss’ right-hand man. His brother and confidant…
And he’d screwed us over.
But it was worse than that.
So much worse.
My father had killed my aunt. When she’d discovered proof of his betrayal, he’d killed Aunt Lucia, leaving Uncle Toni a widow, and my cousins, Nicco and Alessia, motherless. He’d made it look like she had up and left because she couldn’t handle being in this life.
Motherfucker.
I flicked the end of my smoke and dragged my boot across it.
“Better?” Matteo asked.
“What do you think?”
“I think you need to find a better way to relax than with your fists.” His eyes dropped to my tender knuckles, but I barely felt the sting. “There’s that party at The Diamond. We could swing by and check it out?”
Pushing off the wall, I pulled the collar on my leather jacket up and headed for Matteo’s truck. “Let’s go,” I said.
Liquor and pussy?
I didn’t need asking twice.
The Diamond was a popular place on the edge of La Riva and Romany Square. One of our guys, Jonah, owned it, and always threw invite-only New Year’s Eve parties for the Family’s most trusted associates, and a few non-associates if the line of barely-dressed women lining the street was anything to go by.
