(VALENTINO'S POV)
Something about the Jackson mission doesn't sit right with me at all.
It's not guilt. In fact, it's far from it.
They deserved everything they got. Monsters always do. But ever since we left that warehouse and boarded the jet back to the States, this low, restless unease has been living in my chest. Like a bad aftertaste I can't wash away.
We're back in Vegas now. Safe. Alive.
And still, none of us can fucking breathe.
My brothers and I are sitting in the living room of my villa, the three of us spread out in tense silence. My foot keeps tapping against the floor, fast and impatient, even though I tell myself to stop.
My mind keeps circling back to one thing.
If Bruno hadn't caught that movement in time. If he hadn't doubled back. If he hadn't trusted his instincts instead of the plan, the Jacksons would've vanished into thin air.
The mission would've failed.
