Independence

A week had passed since the intense confrontation with their rivals. During those days, Vincent fully immersed himself in the gang's affairs, leaving behind his former life. The adrenaline of operations and the thrill of consolidating his territory consumed him, distancing him from everything he once considered important, including his family.

The warehouse had become his temporary home, and each day he felt more comfortable in this environment filled with crime and strategy. However, deep in his heart, he felt a void. The absence of his family weighed on him, even though he told himself he was better off without them, that his true family now consisted of his team members.

Finally, he decided it was time to return home. He had been away for so long that his mind was filled with memories of his childhood and the happy moments shared with his parents. As he arrived at his house, he stopped at the entrance, feeling a mix of nostalgia and anxiety. He knocked on the door, and when it opened, he found himself face to face with the surprised and disapproving gaze of his mother, Amanda.

"Vincent…" she began, her expression shifting from surprise to displeasure.

"Hey, Mom. I've been… busy," he replied, feeling the weight of his absence.

"Busy? You've been gone a week! You haven't called or checked on us," Amanda chastised, her voice filled with reproach.

"I was working. I don't have time to waste," Vincent shot back, feeling defensive.

"Working? What kind of job is so important that you can't even check in with your own mother? You've been absent from your own life," she insisted, raising her tone.

"I'm not absent. I'm trying to do something with my life," Vincent argued, but as he spoke, he felt his words weren't enough to justify his absence.

His father, Michael, appeared in the background, his typical disdainful attitude evident. "And what kind of job is that? A criminal job? Is that your life now?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Vincent felt a surge of frustration. "I don't owe you any explanation. I'm doing what I have to do."

"You don't have the right to come in here and talk to me like that," Michael said, approaching him with a serious expression. "We've given you a home, and this is how you respect us?"

"I don't need your respect. I'm tired of living under your rules, of meeting your expectations. I'm not a kid anymore," Vincent yelled, feeling the anger consume him.

"Then get out! If you don't want to follow our rules, you have no place here," Amanda replied, her words cutting like a knife. "You're not the child we knew, and we can't accept someone who chooses that life."

"It's what I've always been, Mom. You never saw it," Vincent retorted, his eyes burning with indignation.

At that moment, something broke inside him. He didn't want to be caught between the resentment of his family life and the need to find his own path anymore. The accumulated frustration led him to a conclusion. "Fine. If that's what you want, then I'll leave. I don't need this," he declared, looking his parents in the eye and challenging them.

"Good! Then leave! At least we'll be spared the drama," Michael said, crossing his arms and feeling victorious.

Vincent stepped back, his heart racing. "Don't worry, I'm already out of this place," he said, turning on his heel and leaving. Each step he took was a mix of relief and sadness. He knew there was no turning back.

As he walked away, the echo of the fight resonated in his mind. The family life he had left behind now felt like a distant memory. Deep down, the tumultuous release had not only affected his relationship with them but had also ignited a series of tensions in his home.

Upon arriving at the warehouse, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders, but loneliness began to creep into his heart. He sat in a corner of the place, reflecting on what had just happened. He was free, yes, but at a high cost.

As night fell and Vincent tried to adapt to his new reality, he realized that although he had gained independence, he had also lost the security of home. Every decision came with its own weight, and now he had to navigate a world he had chosen to belong to, where shadows were as real as the friends surrounding him.

The city shone with lights, and Vincent knew he had to adapt quickly. With his new life ahead, he would face unknown challenges, but he was determined not to look back. He had to forge his own path, and while the price had been steep, his spirit burned with the ambition to leave his mark on Los Santos.

(Jimmy's POV):

While the argument between Vincent and his parents escalated, I sat in my room, absorbed in my video game. However, Dad's and Vincent's voices interrupted my concentration. At first, I thought it would just be another family argument, something typical in the De Santa household, but as the shouts increased, my interest turned into concern.

"What the hell is going on?" I muttered, pausing my game and leaning closer to the door.

(Tracey's POV):

I was sitting on the sofa, feeling a mix of curiosity and anxiety. I had heard about the problems Vincent had been facing, but I never imagined things would escalate to this point. I bit my lip, uneasy, as I strained to catch every word reaching my ears.

"This can't be right," I thought, trying to process what I was hearing. "Why can't they just talk about this instead of yelling at each other?"

As I listened to Mom scold Vincent, I felt a knot form in my stomach. I knew Vincent had been distant, but I had no idea things had gotten to this extreme.

(Jimmy's POV):

"It's his life, right? Why can't they understand that?" I thought, feeling a wave of empathy for my brother. While he could be an idiot sometimes, I knew he wasn't the kind of person who looked for trouble. He was just someone who wanted to be free.

"If he leaves, what will happen to us?" I wondered, anxious. "We can't let this ruin our family. But what if Vincent is better off without them?"

As the conversation grew more intense, I felt a mix of sadness and frustration. I didn't know what to do, but the thought of my brother leaving us hurt. We had always had our differences, but we also shared a special bond that couldn't be ignored.

(Tracey's POV) :

"This shouldn't be happening. He's our son, for God's sake," I thought, feeling the tension rising. "Can't they just try to understand him?"

I felt torn between the desire to support my brother and the need to keep peace in our home. The argument escalated further, and finally, Vincent abruptly said goodbye.

(Jimmy's POV):

"Wait, don't go!" I shouted, but I knew my voice wouldn't reach Vincent. I felt powerless as I watched my brother walk away, leaving behind not only the house but also the family that had once been a refuge.

(Tracey's POV):

Tears began to well up in my eyes. I knew something had to be done to resolve this situation. The idea of losing Vincent was too much to bear, and I knew that if he distanced himself, he would never be the same again.

"I have to talk to him," I decided, leaving the living room and heading towards the front door, hoping to find my brother before he went too far