Loyalty is a luxury Vince Perilli can no longer afford—and the FBI is holding the receipt.
Writer’s Prompt
The neon sign of the “Lucky Clover” flickered with a rhythmic buzz, casting a sickly green glow over Vince Perilli’s trembling hands. Inside his chest, taped just above his heart, the wire felt like a cold, silver snake.
“Just get the Uncle to mention the Pier 19 shipment, Vince,” the FBI handler had hissed in the back of the unmarked sedan. “Do that, and the RICO charges we’ve pinned on you vanish. Refuse, and you rot in Allenwood while your brothers take the fall anyway.”
It was a lie, of course. Vince was the only Perilli with clean hands—a high school math teacher who’d spent his life dodging the family shadow. But the Feds didn’t care about innocence; they cared about leverage.
The heavy oak door of the social club groaned open. The air smelled of stale espresso and expensive cigars. At the back table sat his father, Carmine, and his brother, Leo. They looked up, their faces softening with a genuine warmth that made the wire itch like a burn.
“Vincey!” Leo grinned, pulling out a chair. “Thought you were grading papers tonight. Sit, have a drink.”
Carmine leaned in, his eyes sharp but kind. “You look pale, son. Something weighing on you?”
Vince felt the microphone pick up his ragged breath. To his left, the law was waiting to tear his world apart. To his right, the only people he’d ever loved were unknowingly handing him the shovel to bury them. He reached for the glass of rye Leo poured, his fingers brushing the recording device beneath his shirt.
“Dad,” Vince began, his voice cracking. “We need to talk about Pier 19.”
How would you finish this story?
Does Vince go through with the betrayal to save himself, or does he find a way to tip off his family without the Feds catching on?
