(VALENTINO'S POV)
"Bad news?" I repeat, my pulse spiking almost instantly.
My hands tighten around the phone until my knuckles turn white. My heart started pounding against my ribs, each beat echoing in my skull.
"What happened?" I demand, my voice coming out sharper than I intended.
"The shipment… the one we were expecting tonight? It didn't make it." Michele's voice cracks. "It got intercepted just off the coast by U.S. Customs and Border Protection. It's in their hands now."
"What?!" I snapped. "How the fuck did this happen?!"
"I–I don't know, boss," Michele panics, his words tumbling out fast. "Maybe the Feds got tipped off or it was just bad timing. I—"
I don't hear the rest. My hands are trembling now, the phone shaking against my ear. I turn to Leo, searching his face.
The look on it only mirrored mine.
"Fuck! Fuck!! FUCK!!!" I scream at the top of my voice. A few passersby pause, staring at me as if I'd lost my damn mind.
My eyes sting, hot tears threatening to spill.
This shipment of drugs was worth a hundred million dollars. Every cent I funneled from my strip club, the night club, the casino, the restaurant, even the car rental—it was all riding on this.
This was my chance.
My shot to prove to my father that I wasn't just reckless and irresponsible Val. That I could build my own empire, run my own game. That I deserved a throne of my own.
And now? It's all gone.
"Shit," I mutter, biting my lower lip so hard that I drew blood. My hands dive into my hair, tangling through the auburn strands as my chest heaves.
"What are we gonna do now, Michele? This… this is massive. It's gonna hit everything, every business I've built. How do we fix this?"
"There's nothing we can do right now. Not yet at least," he replies, panic still evident in his tone. "The Feds are probably already onto us. Best thing we can do is lay low for now. We can figure out the next move later."
I exhale slowly, trying to calm my nerves. But the anger and anxiety keep twisting deep into my gut like a knife. My mind is racing a thousand miles an hour, but I can't afford to show weakness.
Not now.
"Okay," I nod. "Call the others and tell them to meet me at Il Palazzo del Peccato. Now."
"Right away, boss," Michele replies, and I hear the click as he ends the call.
I hand the phone back to Leo, who's been watching silently, tension etched across his face.
"This is… fucked," I mutter under my breath, running a hand across my forehead.
And just when I thought things couldn't get worse, my phone starts ringing in my pocket.
"Who the fuck is it now?" I mumble, digging my hands into my pocket.
The second I pull it out and look at the screen, the frown on my face disappears. The feeling in my chest is replaced with dread.
"Who is it?" Leo asks as he notices the sudden shift in my behavior.
I flip the phone toward him to show him caller ID flashing across the screen.
His brows perk up as his eyes widen. "Shit," he curses.
I sigh, staring at the phone screen as the word 'PADRE' glares back at me. I hesitate for a split second, my thumb hovering over the answer button until finally, I answered it.
As soon as I press the phone against my ear, my father's voice cuts through the static.
"Valentino," he says, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine, full of that cold authority I've spent my whole life both craving and fearing. "Explain to me how a shipment worth a hundred million dollars ends up in the hands of the Feds."
I swallow hard, my pulse hammering in my ears. Every instinct tells me to stay calm, to choose my words carefully. But fuck—it's hard to sound calm when everything you've built just took a bullet to the chest.
"Padre… I–I don't know how it happened. We were set up, I swear. Michele says it was intercepted just off the coast. It's almost as if they knew it was coming."
There's a pause. A long, bone-deep pause that makes my stomach knot.
"You don't 'swear,' Valentino," he says finally. "You don't get to fumble when we're talking about my business, my legacy. Do you understand me?"
"Y-Yes, Padre," I choke out. "I know. I—"
My father cuts me off before I can get the words out. "Ma sei proprio un idiota senza cervello, lo sai?" (You're really a brainless idiot, do you even realize it?)
"One hundred million dollars," he hisses through the phone. "Gesù Cristo! How does one lose money like that, Valentino?! Tell me—where were you when the shipment was seized?"
I panicked. "Padre, please listen to me. I sent my men to secure it. I—"
"No! You listen to me, cazzo!" He snapped so hard I almost flinched away from the phone.
"Why can't you seem to do anything right?! You were supposed to be there to receive that shipment but you were God knows where, doing what you know how to how to do best."
For a couple seconds, the line goes silent before he says:
"You're a disgrace, Valentino. A stain to my legacy. The Vipera name bleeds because of you."
Every single word hurt like a knife, stabbing deep into my chest.
"Padre…" my voice broke, "I—"
"Don't you dare interrupt me when I'm speaking!" he lashed out. "Do you think this is some kind of game?! What are you going to do if they Feds start cracking down on all your operations?! What are you going to do if those American gangs—those cockroaches—swell weakness and start causing trouble?! Word gets around in this world of ours, you know that right?"
The tears sting my eyes, threatening to spill no matter how hard I try to blink them back. I turn away from Leo, not wanting him to see the look on my face.
The line goes silent for a few seconds. Just the faint static from the phone, and my own ragged breathing filling the space.
Then his voice cuts through again, low but sharp. "I sent you to America because you wanted to prove yourself. Because you wanted to show me that you're capable and responsible enough to handle things on your own. And to be honest, I had faith in you, Valentino. Yet you've somehow managed to let me down, time and time again. But this? This is the last straw."
"Padre, please…" I start, my voice shaking, desperate for him to hear me out. To give me a chance to explain. But he hangs up before I can even finish my sentence.
I stare at the phone, frozen, the weight of his words still burning in my chest.
Without thinking, I fling the phone onto the asphalt. It bounces, the screen cracking against the concrete.
My foot comes down hard, stomping on it over and over gain. Each stomp a mix of rage and frustration, until it's nothing but a broken mess under my shoe.
"Val!" Leo calls out before stepping in, placing a hand on my shoulder, steadying me.
"Enough," he says calmly. "Come on, let's go inside."
I grit my teeth, still breathing hard, my blood boiling hot in my veins but Leo doesn't let go.
Instead, he guides me back toward the club, keeping me from doing any more damage.
As we step through the doors, the music, the lights, the heat in the club—it all feels distant.
The storm isn't over. Not by a long shot.
But right now… I let Leo keep me anchored.
For now.