Page 44 of A Sinner's Saint

“What are you doing sitting in the hallway?” This comes from Gio.

I look up at my oldest brother. I know what I have to do. I have to tell him. I can’t let Marcel take the fall for what I did. I’m not an asshole. I am thankful to my brothers for keeping my secret. But this is on me. Not them. “Can we talk?”

Gio’s brows draw down. “Always. Here?” he asks while gesturing to the hallway.

“Your office?” I suggest.

“Let’s go.” He spins around and walks back in the direction he was going.

Pushing myself up to my feet, I stand and follow him. This is shitty timing. My big brother is dealing with a lot right now. His wife is recovering from her assault. Gabe is still locked up. And now I’m going to drop this bomb on him. Out of all my brothers, I know Gio is going to take it the hardest, blame himself the most. I don’t have any resentment towards them. They had no idea what was happening. The old man hid it well.

Gio closes the door, and I peer up to see Santo and Marcel already inside. “What’s going on?” Marcel looks directly at me.

“I have to tell him,” I say.

“You sure?” Marcel asks. “I don’t give a shit, Vin. I can handle this.”

“Someone want to fill me in on what the fuck is going on with all the side-bar conversation?” Gio’s tone is demanding. He leans against the front of his desk, his hands in his pockets. He looks calm and relaxed, but it’s a mask.

I square my shoulders and meet his eye. “Marcel didn’t kill that Russian tonight. I did.”

“You what? Why the fuck would you kill a member of the Bratva?” Gio shouts.

“I… ah… Dad.” The moment I say the words, my brother’s body stiffens while Marcel and Santo stare at me with fucking pity, anger, remorse. “When I was twelve, the old man took me to that house. That’s how I knew the address…”

“They were running a child sex ring out of there. Why the fuck would that stupid son of a bitch take his twelve-year-old son to a place like that?”

“He sold me. To them. Once a month, he’d lock me in a room and men would…” I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head. The only thing worse than what happened to me there is seeing the realisation spread across my brother’s face like an infectious disease. And there ain’t no cure for this. When I open my eyes again, Gio appears two shades paler. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it so fucking white before.

“He what?” His voice is low, broken. Almost as broken as I amwatchinghim break. “How long?”

“Three years,” I tell them.

Gio doesn’t say a word. What he does do is swipe out an arm, shoving the contents of his desk onto the floor. Then he turns around. “Three fucking years. What the fuck, Vin? Why wouldn’t you tell me? Us?”

“I couldn’t. I didn’t want it to happen to any of you,” I explain.

“Fuck!” Gio picks up a bottle of whiskey and tosses it against the wall. “I’m going to kill them. Every fucking single one of them. I want their fucking heads on a spike!”

“The Russian, tonight… I heard his voice in the restaurant. I never saw their faces, just heard voices. And I snapped. I wasn’t thinking, Gio. I just…”

“No!” he barks out. “Don’t you fucking dare apologise. You did the right thing. And I’ll make sure none of this comes back on you.” Gio walks over and wraps his arms around me. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “So fucking sorry. I should have known. If I did, I would have killed the fucker sooner.”

I don’t know which part sets the tidal wave free, but suddenly I’m crying for the first time in years. In my big brother’s arms. A weight I’ve been carrying around lifts from my shoulders. I pull back and wipe at my face. I don’t know what to say. A silence fills the room. All four of us just standing here, not knowing what to fucking say.

“Fuck,” Santo curses under his breath. He walks over to the wet bar and picks up a bottle of Cinque. Pouring four glasses before handing one to each of us. “We will have their heads, no matter how long it takes.”

I’d settle for just fucking forgetting those fucking three years of my life. But I’ll also help in any way I can. “Thank you.”

“You need to talk to someone,” Santo grunts, and I laugh.

“I just found you talking to your fiancée’s corpse. I don’t think you’re one to advisemeonmymental health.”

Santo shrugs. “Had to be sure she was dead.”

“What about Daisy?” Gio suggests.

“What about her?” I ask. I’ve built a pretty decent rapport with Gabe’s girlfriend, especially since he’s been gone. She’s a mess without him. I see so clearly how much she loves my brother, which means I’ll do whatever I can to help her.

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