The Prototype

41. The End

MARCELLUS

The blinding light filtering through the curtains on the far side of the room, the brightness breaking the protective cocoon of darkness that's surrounded me for the last few hours. I could feel it tugging at the edges of my consciousness, gently stirring me from the depths of sleep. My body resisting, clinging to the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me like an anchor, a constant reminder of the relentless week I've endured.

A low, guttural groan escaped my lips, shattering the silence of the room. The rough, unrefined sound—an involuntary expression of the fatigue embedded deep in my bones. Slowly, shifting beneath the silk sheets, the smooth fabric slipping across my skin. My arm stretched out instinctively, fingers grazing the cold, polished surface of my Apple Watch on the nightstand. Lifting it, I glanced at the screen. The time illuminated—past noon, which is extremely late for me being that it's Friday and I have a lot of wrapping up to do to prepare for my leave.

Slowly pushing my myself up, feeling the familiar throb of an oncoming headache. The aftermath of a night spent indulging, but nothing I can't handle. Running my hands over my face, my fingers digging into my temples as the memories of the past few days crashing back in vivid detail. From Sunday's chaos at the horse racing tournament, to Thursday's anticipated-filled sit-down—each day been a battle, every moment a test of my control.

The memory of Rubien and Pier remaining sharp, still etched deep into my mind, refusing to fade. Those two fools. Every time I think of them, a flicker of anger ignites inside me—sharp and biting like the edge of a well-honed blade.

Their screams still echo in my mind, the shrill sound of Rubien's high-pitched panic just before I silenced him for good. Then there was Pier—his eyes wide with fear as realization settled over him. He knew there was no escape, not for him, not for Rubien.

Then there was yesterday. The sit-down with Vincenzo and Joseph. Chuckling to myself thinking about it. Vincenzo, in all his arrogance, finally showed his hand concerning Tempest. He thinks he's clever, but he's just another man desperate to climb higher, to secure his place at the top of the food chain. To be the Boss of the Salvatore Family. At least now I have confirmation. It's clear where he saw her—Washington. But the real question remains: why does him seeing Tempest in Washington matter so much to him? It's not about him simply crossing paths with her there. No, it's something deeper. Something personal. And I intend to find out what it is.

It's damn sure not about Tempest being with me and how Vincenzo trying to be so concerned for my finances. I know he doesn't give a single damn about any of that. Just Tempest. There's something else, something far more important to him, and I'm going to find out exactly what it is.

One thing I do know: Vincenzo won't be using Tempest as his token to climb the ranks and become the boss of the Salvatore family. If he thinks that he's going to get her to further his ambitions, then he's got another thing coming. Because I'm not letting her go. She's a problem, I won't deny that, but she's my problem. Tempest may be a force of chaos, but I'll be damned if Vincenzo thinks he's about to skip ahead and use her for his very own benefit just because he's too fucking weak to work his way to the top on his own.

No one takes what's mine.

I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the tension that had built up over the past few days. Joseph, ever the mediator, knows it's only a matter of time before Vincenzo pushes me too far. I could see it in his eyes during the sit-down. He's not blind to the fact that his nephew is playing a dangerous game. Joseph knows what's coming if Vincenzo continues to be reckless. He's seen it before. He knows what I'm capable of when I'm pushed to my limits.

And yet, following the sit-down with Vincenzo, the grand reopening of my restaurant was the perfect way to cap off the night, the week, everything. It was more than just business; it was a celebration. A victory lap after overcoming every obstacle that had been thrown my way. The reopening wasn't just a success—it was flawless. The place was packed, every table filled, the food exceptional, the atmosphere buzzing with energy.