Page 102 of Broken Sins (Volkov Bratva 3)

“Yes,” Sergio purrs. “The Volkov don is as blind as you are. It was easy to lure his men out from under him. And it was easy to lure Father to me. You all were supposed to die with him. That didn’t happen then, but it will happen tonight, so I suppose all is fair in the end.”

“Why?”

He grabs my chin roughly in his hands and keeps my gaze locked on his. “Because it should have all beenmine,” he seethes with venom dripping from his voice. “Mine, not yours.”

“Have it then,” I whisper. “I don’t want it.”

Sergio laughs again, louder and more viciously than the first time. “Oh, don’t you worry about that, brother. I will have it. I will rip it from your dead hands. I have already taken everything else from you. What is one more thing?”

At that, it is my turn to laugh. “What have you taken from me? I have never had anything worth saving.”

Sergio smiles, slow and creepy. “Tut-tut, Vito. Think harder. You had something special, once upon a time, didn’t you? In fact, I think you still have a picture of that something hidden in your nightstand.”

My mouth falls open. Sergio’s grin spreads wider.

“Ah yes,” he murmurs, “now you know what I’m talking about.”

“How do you know about her?”

“You think you could keep secrets? Oh, Vito, I overestimated you so very much. You are even weaker than I suspected. A broken heart for a servant’s girl? It takes so little to hurt you. Hardly even worth the effort. And yet, I persevere, if for no other reason than because I simply want to watch you suffer.”

“What did you do?” My voice is barely audible above Sergio’s breath and the crackle of the fire in the hearth.

“Do you remember the night you let her go?” he asks me.

I say nothing. I can’t. Maybe, if I don’t hear what he’s about to say, then it won’t become real for me. The feeling of horror, like a subliminal droning noise growing louder and louder in the background, is pressing down upon me savagely. I can hardly breathe.

“You were supposed to kill her. Father gave you the blade and the room and the privacy. He thought you might even do it. But I knew better. I knew even back then that you didn’t have the fucking balls.”

“Stop.”

“You took her downstairs, shut the door, and you thought that little act would save her? Oh, Vito. Oh, brother. You were so wrong.”

“Stop it. Shut the fuck up.”

“I followed her into the night. It wasn’t hard. She didn’t get very far. And she went down easily. Like a fawn, you know? Hardly even bleated before I cut her throat.”

I realize suddenly that I’m roaring wordlessly and yanking at the straps as hard as I can. They don’t budge. I can’t move. Tears are streaming down my face and the world has narrowed down to Sergio’s Cheshire Cat smile.

“The one good thing you ever did turned out to be for nothing. How does that feel? Does it hurt you, brother? Does it break your heart the last little bit? Picture it: that pale, pretty skin, stained with blood, left in the woods for the scavengers to find. She didn’t get away. You didn’t save her. She’s dead. Remember that, Vito. Remember you failed her. I want it to be your last thought before you die.”

I’m still roaring when soldiers come pouring in and drag me, screaming, out of the room. I’m still roaring when they strap me to a table in the great room and set upon me with blades and fists. I’m still roaring when they take my finger from my hand, when my blood splatters on the stones. My ancestors look down at me from the walls as I break, that last little bit of me left to be broken.

And then the darkness consumes me.

29

Milaya

The cell door clangs open and wakes me up. It’s too dark to see much, since the moon has gone behind the clouds, but I can hear the shuffling of heavy boots and the groaning of a dying man. Someone curses in Russian and then Vito comes stumbling in. He is trembling, slick with blood from head to toe, and there is a bloodied stump where his right pinky finger once was. He takes one step and collapses to the floor.

I rush over to him. Exhaustion has me swaddled, muffled. Nothing feels real, like I’m at the bottom of the ocean. All the sounds are dampened, the sights are vague, the emotions are hollow. I just have to keep doing the next thing, and the next, and the next, robotic and unthinking.

We’d been in here for a day or so, I believe, when men in ski masks and all black clothing came and grabbed Mateo, Dante, and Leo a few hours ago. I heard other doors opening and shutting outside of this one immediately afterwards, so I’m assuming they split us up and threw them each in their own holding cell for some reason, though I don’t know anything for sure.

They took Vito around the same time. He was in bad shape when he left, but that was my fault.

Now that he’s back, he’s on death’s doorstep.

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