Page 63 of Brando

Brando looks between me and the container, the internal battle clear on his face. But after a long moment, he gives a stiff nod.

“Fine,” he mutters, moving to open the doors again. It’s empty.

Tears burn at the back of my eyes as I step forward and take a good look around the container. It’s still empty. The realization sends both a rush of panic and relief through my veins.

Brando’s hand on my shoulder stops me from climbing into the container. For a brief moment, I just stand there, staring blankly into the empty box, my eyes fixed on the end wall. When Brando’s grip on my shoulder tightens, I’m pulled back into the present.

“Stay back,” he orders, his voice tight. “Don’t make me regret this.”

I watch as Brando hops onto the container with the big man, the one they refer to as the Enforcer. I don’t know why he doesn’t have a real name, but I can see why the Enforcer is an apt name by the brooding hulk of muscle. He has a crowbar in his hands, which he uses to tap against the far wall.

Mason comes to stand at my shoulder, his brow furrowed as he watches the men pry at the wall.

“How did you know?” he asks, and I shrug. It was just a feeling I had.

We watch as the wall comes away, the Enforcer pulling back the fake recess slowly to reveal a hidden compartment. My eyes squint in the dark, adjusting to the lack of light, but it’s not so hard to make out the human forms huddled together in fear and hear the whimpers they emit.

Mason climbs into the container, swaying his flashlight across the faces of the figures. There is only silence all around us as we watch in horror the light moving across their faces, their shapes. Children. All children, barely a day over nine.

“You had no business being here,”Brando growls, his voice low, the anger unmistakable in his tone. I don’t know if he’s still angry at me or at the discovery of yet more bodies hidden in several containers scattered across the docks. The minute that first container was found, with twelve children squished together in less than human conditions in a compartment that was slowly sapping their oxygen, he had turned to me with sullen eyes that were grateful, yet guilt ridden. That was Brando telling me he was concerned what sort of condition we would find my sisters in. But now, he’s angry again, rage simmering through him as he jumps between containers. We still haven’t found my sisters, and there’s no indication they were ever even here.

Every inch of me wants to back away from the intensity of Brando’s glare, but I don’t. Instead, I stand tall, waiting for him to give me his best shot. I clench my jaw and meet his eyes, my defiance still burning.

“Would you have even found those children if I hadn’t been here?” I shoot back, my voice sharper than I intended.

“That’s beside the point,” he hisses.

“No, it isn’t! You’ve found four container loads of humans. Thathas tocount for something!”

“You really want to be here if we open anymore containers, and you see your sisters that way?” he asks. There’s something so battered and broken in him as he asks the question.

“I can handle it.”

The words come out with more bite than I expect, but once they’re out, I don’t regret them. I’m not just the fragile, scared girl they think I am. I’m capable. I’m strong. I’ve had to be in order to raise my sisters, to be their mother, their sister, their friend.

Brando’s gaze hardens, his jaw tightens as if he’s considering how far he’s willing to push me. There’s a moment of silence between us, thick and suffocating, before he finally exhales,shaking his head as though he’s trying to rid himself of the frustration he’s feeling.

“You’ve got a death wish,” he mutters under his breath, but his tone softens as his fingers tickle against my shoulder. His expression remains cold, but there’s something softer behind his eyes, a flicker of something indefinable. “If it’s not your own, it’s mine. You’ll be the death of me, Mia Andrade.”

My pulse quickens at the unspoken weight in his words. He and I, we’re two parts of a whole. He can’t stand the thought of anything happening to me anymore than I can stand the idea of losing him.

Brando stares at me for a long moment, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features. There’s a kind of torment in his eyes, but he doesn’t let it show. Not fully. He’s the Gatti heir, the face of control, the one who never lets his guard down. But I see it—a crack in his armor. And it both terrifies and thrills me. Because I know, with a sudden clarity, that the thought of losing control terrifies him, too.

“Don’t do this again,” Brando says finally, his voice low, almost a warning. He glances up, watches as the men clamor through the containers they’ve already been through, making sure they haven’t missed anything else. “I can’t protect you when you do foolish, reckless things.”

My chest tightens, and for a split second, I feel the weight of his words. I’m not his responsibility. I’m not some damsel he needs to save. But he’s taken on the role, and he’s done it with the weight of all his resources behind him. His brothers are here. He has a small army at the docks, assisting in an operation that started with us ten years ago when Frank Falcone infiltrated our tight knot and inserted himself in our lives in some cruel plan for vengeance. An operation that would have stayed retired had Frank just stayed away, but instead, he came back and once again instigated himself in our lives, resurrecting the past. Butnone of us are the same people we were ten years ago. I am older, wiser, and I’ve developed a resilience that few can shatter. Brando is untouchable; with the backing of his brothers and some of the most powerful families in the country, there’s not much that can touch him. If anything, right now, I am possibly his greatest weakness, and this doesn’t sit too well with me.

As if to validate my thoughts, Brando’s eyes soften, just barely, and it feels like a silent promise. He wants to keep me safe. But not in the way I need him to. He can’t shelter me from what’s to come any more than he can control what’s about to happen.

I meet his gaze, my heart pounding harder than before. There’s no winning with him, not entirely. But for the first time in a long while, I feel something stirring deep inside me—a spark of something dangerous. I’m no longer just a girl from the past that crosses his mind every once in a while. I’m part of the game now. I’m part of his life, and he too is part of mine.

As we walk toward the rest of the crew, I notice his eyes flicking toward me again. It’s subtle, but it’s there. And this time, it’s not anger in his gaze.

It’s something darker. Something far more dangerous.

And if we’re not careful, we could lose ourselves to this darkness forever.

32

---