Page 11 of Broken Sins (Volkov Bratva 3)

“I like it,” chimes Dante.

I can only roll my eyes.

Sergio is the last to react. I turn to look at him. He’s the youngest of us—born two minutes after his twin—but he carries himself with a gravitas far beyond his years. I’m the oldest, but even I like to get Sergio’s counsel before making my own decisions.

“He won’t take no for an answer,” Sergio remarks carefully. “We have to be smart about how we play this.”

“Tell me you don’t think we should just fucking charge into the Russian stronghold, guns blazing, and hope it all just works out for us,” I drawl.

“Of course not,” he answers smoothly. His violet eyes flash in the firelight. “I don’t want a bullet between my eyes any more than you all do.”

“I’d welcome it,” Dante butts in. “It’d save me from anymore of this god-awful conversation.”

Leo flicks the coin at Dante’s head in irritation. Moving with the speed of a jungle cat, Dante snags the projectile out of the air, brings it to his teeth, and bites down on it, hard. He removes the bent coin from his mouth, grinning wildly. “Better luck next time,” he taunts with a smirk.

“You are in rare form tonight, little brother,” Mateo tells him.

I laugh bitterly. “I’d rather he be insilentform.”

“Don’t we all,” adds Leo.

“Quiet,” interrupts Sergio. He has an ear pressed against the door. He must’ve heard someone coming up the stairs.

We all sit for a long minute without uttering a peep. The only noise is the fire crackling and the howl of wind outside. This high in the hills, the wind sometimes screeches through the tree branches with a fury. As with everything else about the Bianci Castle, it is completely removed from the pleasant California world that lies at its feet.

A few slow breaths later, Sergio relaxes. Whatever he heard must be gone now.

“As I was saying,” he continues, “we have to be smart about this. I think, for now, we stall.”

“Stall?”

“Tell Father we are preparing. Scouting, that kind of thing. It’ll buy us time to come up with something better.”

I lean against the hearth. The fire is hot tonight, but I like the heat. It helps me think. I bask in it and keep shifting the metal poker in the heart of the flames, where the logs glow.

“Stall,” I mutter to myself. “It is not the worst thing we could do.”

“It is theonlything we can do,” Sergio says.

I turn to Mateo. “What do you think?”

He rubs his neatly groomed beard as he thinks. Finally, he admits, “I don’t have any brilliant conclusions yet. I need more time to think. And we need to learn more about our new Russian friends.”

“Friends?” snorts Dante. “They aren’t exactly coming to have afternoon tea with us, Matty.”

“But we don’t know for sure why they’re coming at all, do we?”

“They want to kill us and take everything we have. Why is that so hard for your massive brain to understand?”

“Nothing is certain.” Mateo eyes Dante warily. “First, we learn. Then, we act. That means, for now … we stall.”

“Stall,” Leo repeats again. “Sounds good to me. But if we keep stalling this meeting any longer, I’m going to blow my fucking brains out.” He clambers to his feet. “So, if it is acceptable to you, my brethren, I will take my leave now, so I can retreat to my quarters where a fine lass awaits me in the nude. Then I’ll blowherfucking brains out—metaphorically speaking.”

“Jesus,” I say, “do you ever think with anything besides your cock?”

“It’s led me this far,” he says with an impish smile. “Why stop listening now?” With that, he opens the door and disappears down the shadowy staircase.

“Time for me to go, too,” Dante says once the sound of Leo’s footsteps has faded away. “It’s been a real privilege, let me tell you. Until next time,fratelli.” Then he is gone as well.

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