Page 17 of Devotion

“Dom Vipera was taken by FBI. His empire is scattered. No one knows what has become of him.”

I watch Ciro’s eyes widen, his face falling slightly with the news. What this means to him, I have no idea. Vipera was part of his family, then took over, apparently.

“The rest of your people, they have gone to ground, lying low. That is all I tell you for now. The rest, you will work for. You will earn.”

“My…brothers…?”

Pyotr’s eyes harden, his hand lashing out to take hold of Ciro’s shirt, shaking him like a ragdoll and pulling him in close. “Your brothers are here. The Volk. Never forget.”

“Da, Pakhan,” Ciro snaps immediately.

Thank goodness he learned how to respond…

Pyotr’s rage abates as fast as it flared. Smoothing out Ciro’s clothes, he pats him on the chest, then hugs him.

“You will earn the privilege of knowledge. Give me time, and I will also consider allowing you to reach out, to find them. Until then, do not test me. Do not rock boat, yes?”

“Yes sir.”

“Great! Now, Vanya will show you to your room and get some food and vodka. We need to put some meat on those bones!” His laugh lightens the room, like it always has, scattering the storm clouds that shadowed Ciro’s face.

“Thanks.”

“You can thank me by doing your job. Lieutenant will have orders for you tomorrow.” Pyotr’s smile fades. “Boy, I will ask this before you go. We intend to take some of what once belonged to your family. The trade in the North. Does this pose a problem to you?”

Ciro sniffs a small laugh, smiling. “What was once mine is yours,Pakhan.”

“All’s fair in love and war, right?”

“I try not to get bogged down in love. And from the sound of it, the war is over.”

“We will always fight. So too, we must always rejoice and find pleasure in life. They said you were a joker, a jester, a man who laughed in the face of danger. But now, I do not see the smile in your eyes, only your mouth.”

“My sense of humor has…changed.”

“This is what scares them, the men you fought in Gulag. They say you have no soul. I hope that you will find that passion you once had here with your new family. Otherwise, what is the point of living?”

Ciro nods, turning to leave as Pyotr waves us out.

“Come. You look tired. We get you a meal and a bed, baby boy.”

“Baby boy, huh?” Ciro whispers, brushing his shoulder into me as he walks down the steps beside me. I can’t tell if it’s on purpose, but the contact and the way he moves sets my heart thumping. He should not be doing this to me.

It’s pathetic.

The day fades as we enter the barracks house on the back of the property. Even these halls are so familiar to me. I remember when my family built them when I was a girl.

Sounds of cheering, laughing, fighting, reach us as we pass the common room. It brings a smile to my lips. Even as it stings my heart. I never had that, the comradery of the men.

I have always been alone. Aside from my brother, that is.

“Bunks are through here,” I offer, pointing toward the east wing.

“How many—” Ciro’s question is cut off as a fist connects with his face.

3

CIRO

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