Page 68 of Brutal Vows

Then, slowly, I pivot toward the sound.

My uncle stands just beyond the ring of men, flanked by his own. He’s dressed impeccably in a tailored suit and gold cufflinks, the picture of a man who doesn’t get his hands dirty. But I know better.

His smile is razor sharp. “I must say, nephew, I expected more from you.”

I don’t answer. Words are meaningless now. The only thing that matters is how many of his men I can drop before the first shot even rings out.

Dario shifts beside me, barely perceptible, waiting for my signal. The others are tense, ready. We’re outnumbered, but we’ve fought worse odds. We just need to wait for the explosion. The sign that my brothers have taken the back half of the compound.

My uncle takes a leisurely step forward, clasping his hands behind his back.

“I assume you came here thinking you had the upper hand.” He chuckles, the sound grating. “It’s a shame, really. You always were sosureof yourself.”

I let my lips curl into something that isn’t quite a smile. “And yet, here you are, still talking instead of pulling the trigger.”

His gaze narrows just slightly. A crack in his composure. Good.

Then, as if I willed it, the first shot rings out.

Not from my side.

Not from his.

From somewhere else.

The compound erupts into chaos. The explosion we’ve been waiting for shakes the ground beneath us.

I don’t waste the moment.

“Now!” I bark, and my team moves.

Gunfire explodes into the night, and just like that, the trap he laid for me? It’s no longer his to control. The gunfire continues to rip through the night, muzzle flashes stroking the darkness in violent bursts. My men move like shadows, taking cover, returning fire, pushing forward. Bodies drop. Some theirs, some ours. My ears ring with the sharp, endless crack of shots, the dullthumpof bullets tearing into flesh.

I don’t stop moving. I weave through the fray, taking shots where I can, my focus narrowed to a lethal point. My uncle is still standing. He ducks behind cover, barking orders, but I see it—the moment his confidence slips. He miscalculated.

And I’m about to make him regret it.

I push forward, keeping low, reloading in one fluid motion?—

Then I hear it.

A voice cuts through the gunfire, smooth, almost lazy, but laced with something venomous.

“Vitali.”

I freeze mid-step. My blood turns to ice.

I know that voice.

Slowly, I turn toward the sound.

A figure emerges from the shadows on the far side of the compound, stepping into the dim glow of a flickering overhead light. She’s dressed in black, her posture controlled, a pistol held loosely in one hand. My sister.

Antonia.

What is she doing here? A moment ago I was mocking my uncle for making a mistake, but I’m the one who has miscalculated, and now, it might cost me everything.

But that’s not what makes my chest go tight.

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