Page 71 of Brutal Vows

Antonia laughs softly—a chilling sound that echoes through the ornate room.

“Oh, dear brother,” she drawls, rising from her chair. She steps closer, her stiletto heels clicking ominously against the marble floor. Behind her trail two hulking bodyguards, their faces obscured by dark glasses. “I hoped it would be longer before you found out.”

Antonia sighs almost regretfully. She reaches out a hand adorned with a glistening serpent ring. Instinctively, I pull back.

“This is not you, Antonia.” My voice is a desperate whisper reverberating through the grandeur she surrounds herself with.

The chilling chuckle that falls from my sister’s lips makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

“Oh Vitali, dear brother, you knew so little about me.”

Never once have I thought the relentless trail of bloodshed sweeping through Italy would trail back to her. The first word that echoes in my mind is traitor, yet a part of me shudders at the thought. Despite how easily she and my mother cast that word upon me.

It is a strange sensation, seeing my once loving sister turn beastly. I can’t decide what cuts deeper. The deception or the betrayal.

“Apparently not,” I sneer, disgust tracing over my lips. “But it is all going to end today.”

Antonia smiles smugly, her gaze darkening as she snaps her fingers.

My gaze moves quickly as the creak of the heavy door shudders through the room, echoing my pounding heart. Adrian and Kenzo are dragged in, their hands handcuffed in front of them and their expression a poignant mix of anger and defiance. Behind them, pulled roughly by her arm, is Gia. Her dress hangs torn and dirty against her slender frame, but she wears it like a queen’s robe, her chin high in defiance. My fierypiccola cervastill has her fire.

Her chocolate eyes meet my stony gaze.

The muscles in my throat tighten as I watch them get pushed to their knees in front of me. Gia hits the floor awkwardly. Her fiery gaze glowers up at Antonia defiantly, her spirit unbroken despite the grim circumstances.

“You have a choice to make, dear Vitali.” The dangerous gleam of something metallic is pushed into her hands by one of her guards before she moves closer. My jaw clenches as she presses a silver-plated revolver into my hands—cool and remorseless like her eyes. Her voice is quiet, but it pulses with undeniable force through the silence around us. “Kill them, and I will forgive your transgressions. Bring you into the fold. After all, dear Uncle Salvatore needs to be replaced now that he is dripping blood down the stone steps outside.”

She steps back, folding her arms above her waist–challenging me openly under the gaze of Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa and Botticelli’s Primavera. Silent screams from painted faces hang in the air between us–two siblings now on opposing sides of a war one of us started.

Uncle Salvatore.

Does she not understand who he is to us? The two brothers in life were so alike in appearance, despite their agegap, even I had trouble believing the truth until it was presented in front of me.

Our mother has never told her the truth, keeping the shame of her affair buried deep.

The chill of the metal sears into my palm as I clench it tightly, my eyes drifting over the gathered faces in the dimly lit room. The men and women my father trusted have come to see the commotion.

Isabella De Luca will make an appearance. I am sure of it. A formidable woman like her won’t want to miss her hard work coming to fruition.

When my gaze finally locks onto hers, surprise flits across her features, her lips parting slightly and eyes rounding in shock. A smirk pulls at the corners of my mouth, fueled by the simmering anger within as memories of her actions flood my mind.

My mother may not have wielded the weapon that ended my father’s life, but she certainly exploited his death. It wasn’t mere survival she sought. She blatantly benefited from Salvatore’s leadership until Antonia matured, weaving deceit into my younger sister’s consciousness. The dossier Mark handed me about my mother’s machinations was a bitter pill to swallow, yet now, as I stare deep into her eyes, I believe every damning detail.

A chuckle rises in my throat.

“Delirious doesn’t look good on you,fratello,” my sister sneers, her heeled foot tapping impatiently. “Stalling isn’t going to help you. Make the choice or I will make it for you.”

“Don’t play a game you know nothing about.” The words slither through the air like a shadowed whisper, carrying an ominous weight. My gaze locks onto her, fierce and intense, and whatever she sees in my eyes causesher to take a cautious step back as if retreating from the edge of a precipice. “Father used to tell us that. Do you remember?”

Her lips twist and her nostrils flare at the mention of the man who raised us. Aurelio De Luca is the only man I will ever recognize as my father. Not the piece of shit Antonia so easily dispatched. Salvatore will always be a traitor in my mind. A kin killer. A man who has no honor, and right there with him, is my mother.

A woman who cheated on a man who adored her, who raised us as if we were his own, despite knowing we weren’t.

“The only one playing games here is you, Vitali.” Her voice pitches with her anger, and it reminds of the times when she was little and would throw a temper tantrum. All she is missing is the stomping of her foot.

Nope, there it is.

“Enough of this,” Antonia screams in frustration. “Kill them now or I will.”

---