Page 106 of Broken Sins (Volkov Bratva 3)

That seems to pierce through the haze surrounding each of them. Numbly, they step forward and do what I said. We help Vito and my dad up, both of them groaning softly under their breath. And then we make our way to the rear entrance like some hideous, bleeding, twelve-legged beast.

We’re about five steps away from getting to the door and escaping into the night when I hear something.

Footsteps outside.

It’s the pounding cacophony of armed men with violent intentions. We have to act quickly. I throw my dad’s arm from around my shoulders, lunge forward, and grab the massive wooden chest of torture devices that stands right next to the door. I’m pulling with all my might, every muscle straining, but the thing won’t budge.

Mateo joins me. He throws his weight into the furniture. Still, it won’t go. “Help me!” I cry. The pain in my voice jolts everyone else into action. They add their strength until, with the splintering groan of wood breaking, the whole thing falls down in front of the door. It swings inward, so the toppled drawers will slow the entrance of the troops trying to come in from outside.

But it means that we have to find a new way out. We can’t go upstairs—that’s where I diverted the other soldiers to. That means one exit is left: back into the catacombs.

I turn and lead the ragtag band back through the dungeon, down the side hallway. I remember the path like it was seared into my brain. Down, left, right, down. The hallway shrinks around us like a birth canal. It’s a gross analogy, but it seems fitting. We’re being born into a new life. Part of each of us died back there. If we do in fact make it out of here, none of us will ever be the same. This is a clean slate. A fresh beginning.

We’re so fucking close.

We burst out into the cavern where Sergio confronted us. The entrance is stacked with the bodies of the men that were shot during our escape attempt. At least half a dozen of them died here.

I look to the door we ran through out into the woods. It’s still hanging partially open. I can feel the warm draft of Los Angeles night air wafting over to me. It’s like a caress in the middle of a nightmare, so tender that I almost can’t believe it’s real. I wondered not too long ago if I’d ever smell fresh air again.

Something occurs to me. The freedom I’ve always wanted? It’s right there for the taking. I can just run. I can leave behind these broken men. I don’t have to be Luka Volkov’s daughter anymore. I don’t have to be anybody I don’t want to be. I can just be me. I could run somewhere else and find a new name and start over completely. My father, the Bianci brothers—they carry shadows and pain everywhere they go. I don’t have to keep them with me.

I turn and look at them. The five of them are all linked with their arms around each other’s shoulders. I wonder if they understand the way I do how they are all the same. Broken men, the broken sons of broken fathers. The violent leaders of violent troops. The wicked purveyors of wicked deeds.

But there is good in them too. I have seen glimpses of it. I’ve seen the tears in my father’s eyes when I unlocked myself from the closet and he was there waiting for me, begging my forgiveness, whispering, “I had to, I had to,” again and again. I’ve felt Dante’s hands clinging to me like a drowning man to a raft. I’ve savored Leo’s lips between my legs, so desperate and longing. I’ve sat in the warm night with Mateo and watched the fireflies drift past. I’ve kissed Vito’s hand in a dark hallway and stroked his hair until he fell asleep in my lap.

They are not all bad. None of us are. I can redeem them. I can take their pain away and fight back the darkness.

So I don’t run. Instead, I look at them and tell them what has to happen next.

* * *

It doesn’t take long to get everything set up. The dead soldiers had enough supplies on them to rig explosives throughout the yawning cavern. We’ve walked through the exit and are standing in the night, looking up at the castle. Leo is holding the switch.

“Are you ready?” I ask the brothers.

Vito has woken up, more or less. He fixes me with a pain-glazed look. “This can’t be the only way,” he murmurs.

“It is. This place can’t stand. It’s the only way to end everything.”

He turns his gaze up to the castle. The highest turrets look almost like they’re stabbing into the fabric of the night sky. It cuts an impressive silhouette. I wonder how many people have entered here and never left. How many of them walked in of their own accord, and how many of them—like me—were brought under cover of darkness against their will. The stones themselves are brimming over with pain.

The place must be destroyed.

“Do it,” I tell Leo.

He presses the button.

And just like that, the C4 detonates.

There was enough of it to completely destroy the cavern. I hear one seismic boom, and then, just as I suspected, everything begins to crumble.

The catacombs collapse, and as they go, so, too, does the foundation of the castle. Layer by layer, it consumes itself. Clouds of dust erupt into the air. Soon, the stars are blotted out by it. I can feel the dirt stinging my throat.

It’s time for us to leave. Most of the enemy troops—the Russian faction who betrayed my father to follow Sergio—will have died within the collapsing walls, but there is still a chance that some may escape. That is a problem for another day. For now, we need to get ourselves far away from here.

I grab my father’s hand with my left and Vito’s hand with my right. Mateo, Dante, and Leo fall in around us. Then, together, we begin to pick our way down the hillside, headed for an uncertain future.

But at least we are headed there together.

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