Page 70 of Brutal Vows

I stare at Antonia, my mind catching up to what just happened.

She killed him.

My men shift, uncertain, their weapons half-raised, waiting for a cue that no longer exists. Even Gia’s captors hesitate.

Antonia exhales slowly, lowering her gun. She doesn’t look at my uncle’s body. Just at me.

Then, her voice smooth, decisive—cold—she gives the next order.

“Taze them.”

I don’t have time to react.

Electricity rips through me, fire searing my nerves, my muscles locking as agony explodes in my body. I hear my men drop around me, sharp grunts and curses cut short as voltage overtakes them.

Gia screams my name.

Then there is nothing but darkness.

Thirty-Eight

Pain dragsme from the depths of unconsciousness. It’s a slow, agonizing return, my body heavy and sluggish. My muscles twitch, the last remnants of electricity still licking at my nerves. My breath shudders as I force my eyes open.

The world swims. The ceiling above me is an ornate fresco, blurred and shifting, as if mocking me. My fingers twitch against the cold, unforgiving floor. Marble. Expensive. Familiar.

I swallow hard and push up onto my elbows. The grogginess is suffocating, a thick haze clouding my thoughts, making it harder to piece together where I am—how I got here.

Then it hits me.

The compound. The gunfire. Antonia

I let my gaze dart around the room, lingering on the luxurious Persian rugs, the antique grandfather clock that has been passed down through the generations, before finally resting on the woman who sits regally in my father’s worn high-back leather chair that sits heavily at one end ofthe grand reception room where my father often heard the problems of the locals he protected.

This isn’t right.

My heart pounds against my chest as my gaze locks on the one person that has brought us to this moment. I want to blink, want to convince myself that I am somehow suffering from a hallucination. But the woman standing before me is undeniably my sister, Antonia.

She’s older now, but I recognize her dark eyes—eyes we both inherited from our father.

Her long dark hair is pulled back in a sleek bun beneath her hat, her ruby-red lips curving into a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. A black suit, tailored to fit her body, clings to her like a second skin, accentuating her regal bearing.

Antonia stares down at me with eyes as hard as diamonds.

“Surprised, Vitali?” she asks with an edge of mockery in her voice. She tilts her chin, holding herself straight, poised like a venomous snake ready to strike.

“H…how…?” The words stutter from me in disbelief. There are no words for what she has become.

“Welcome home,fratello maggiore,” she purrs, leaning back in her chair, unblinking. Her carefully painted black nails tap along the rim of the crystal whiskey glass in her hand. “It’s been too long.”

A rush of memories overwhelms me. This is my little sister. The girl who used to clutch my hand tightly on her first day of school, is the dark shadow now ruling the Italian underworld.

For years I have blamed myself for leaving my mother and Antonia behind. For not trying harder to get them out. For being a coward and not coming back for them sooner.

All that blame, for nothing.

An icy shiver rakes down my spine at what this dark reunion implies.

“All this time.” I shake my head, eyes closing as an invisible hand clenches my heart painfully. “All this time, it was you.”

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