Page 5 of Broken Vows

“He’s taken his sweet time to get to this point, and now, he’s going to make us wait four months?” I have a strong bond with my four brothers—one rooted in our mutual hatred for Don Guiliano Scalera, our father. The head ofIl Consiglioand a complete psychopath.

“He’s not done.” Matteo wipes his mouth with some paper towel and looks at me. “He’s left me in charge of wrapping up dirty business.”

Ah, fuck. Never mind the news about the Don, I knew this wasn’t a social call.Dirty fucking business.I suppress a sigh. “Okay. Need some help?” My brother already has myomertà, he doesn’t need to ask for it.

“You’re not going to like it, Steph.”

As if I’ve ever been given the option. I steel myself. “I’m not touching his mistresses.”

“No,” he sighs. “It’s nothing like that.” He rakes his fingers through his hair and then settles his hands on the counter, fingers splayed. “He wants me to ruin the senator’s daughter. The final retribution.”

“But we’re quits. Two for one?—”

“I know it’s fucked up. Alex died, and the senator paid for it when the Don killed his wife and son. But he owes us money, and for twelve years, he hasn’t bothered to pay up.”

“So? Kill him and leave Tasha Armstrong out of it.”

Matteo meets my gaze, and I blink at the cold glare in his own. “We both know it isn’t about the money.”

“No.”

Anything around Alex will always trigger Matteo. His trauma is laced with guilt and the burden of not having been able to save our brother.

He will also step into the Don’s shoes, by the sound of it sooner than any of us anticipated, but handing out a double dose of revenge isn’t how we normally operate.

I bet the Don is using this to test Matteo one last time. Every fucking day, the Don tested and groomed us, each one of us primed for a specific role he saw us taking up in the organization. Every Scalera son has earned his seat at the table the hard way. We never talk about it, but none of us needs to fill in the blanks to know how fucked up we are.

I swallow hard on the chili that doesn’t go down with ease. Even now, I can still feel my dad’s fist clenching around my throat. I squeeze my beer can, as if the reciprocal move could wipe out memories.

Nothing will wipe my slate clean. There are always the Don’s expectations,and sometimes, no level of revenge is enough. Especially when it comes to Alex.

Sometimes, it’s just this fucked-up need for violence.

It’s in your blood.

“We both also know that if we don’t do it, the Don will hire someone else,” Matteo grunts. “I won’t let anybody else deal with our dirty laundry.”

“No.” We can’t slip up on the Don’s final requests, and none of us will hand Tasha Armstrong over to another organized crime ring. I can just imagine what they’d do to the senator’s daughter, and when it comes to women— “So, what’s the plan?”

“A virgin auction, offshore.”

I toss my spoon into the bowl, and it clinks in the silence. “I’m not running a virgin auction for anybody who hasn’t signed up for it herself.”

“Told you you’re not going to like it.”

“How the fuck do you even know she’s still a virgin?” Rebellion is stirring up in me. This isn’t how I roll. I might have many vices, but I have my limits.

“Conjecture. Listen, I don’t like it either, but it’s going to be the easiest way to give the Don what he wants.”

“Someone raping this woman? The girl lost her mom and brother thanks to us. So yeah. Sounds about right for the Don’sIl Consiglio.”

We should just kill the fucking Don ourselves and end this feud. There’s no love lost between him and any of his sons, least of all Matteo.

“You’ve vetted your client base,” he says, stopping me from talking treason. “You know most of the men on your list on a first name basis, Steph. I’m asking you because with you arranging it, it will be easiest for her.”

I push my half-eaten chili out of the way and drag a hand down my face. Matteo wouldn’t ask this of me if he didn’t have his own agenda for revenge. Alex’s death catapulted us all into the reality of what it means to be in the Mafia, butAlex diedin Matteo’s arms. No man recovers from seeing his brother’s lifeblood run out, seeing it drench his shirt and dry to the extent they had to cut the fabric off his body.

I was there when they brought my brothers in from the shooting. Matteo wouldn’t let him go. Even unconscious, he clung to Alex’s body. Those images are branded on my mind, flashing smoldering red at times when I need it least.

---