Page 15 of Broken Sins (Volkov Bratva 3)

At least I have the reassuring heft of a gun in my hand. I look around at my brothers in the car. Mateo is driving. Leo and Sergio are checking their weapons, loading in fresh clips, tightening the straps and buckles of their tactical gear. Dante is still sharpening that fucking knife. I drown out the noise, though it grates on me like nails on a chalkboard.

Focus, Vito,I growl in my head.This is not the time to be getting distracted by petty grievances.

Instead, I lose myself in a memory.

* * *

I heard footsteps. Then a voice. “Get up.”

It was my father’s voice hissing in my ear. I was dead asleep, like most seventeen-year-olds would be at two in the morning. What was he doing in my room?

“Da—uh, Father?”

“Get up, Vito.”

I did as he said. I had learned long ago to do as he said if I wanted to avoid his wrath. I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. He was wearing a suit, I noticed. That was not so strange. Father always conducted business at all hours of the night.

Whatwasstrange was that his hands were soaked with blood.

“Father?” I said again.

“Come with me.” He ignored the unspoken question in my voice.

Still bare-chested and wearing only a pair of shorts, I followed him down the hallway. The Bianci Castle was dark and quiet this time of night. It was dark and quiet at all hours, actually, day or night. But the nighttime had a special kind of silence all to itself. Deeper, denser somehow. Like it wanted to choke you. It was a silence that crept down your throat and strangled you from the inside out. I shivered.

Dad was walking fast. It had been a long day of training, so my muscles were weary, but I had no choice but to match his speed.

We went down a hallway I never went down, to a door I had been warned never to come near. Reaching into his jacket, Father pulled out a massive silver key. It was an old-school key, full of furls and twirls, the kind that looked like it was meant to unlock a treasure chest.

This was the exact fucking opposite.

He opened the door and let it swing inwards.

I saw the blood first. I heard the pained moans second.

My jaw threatened to drop, but I knew better than to display such weakness in front of my father. I turned to look at him and swallowed hard. I could feel my Adam’s apple ride up and down in my throat with the effort. “What is this, Father?” I asked.

He nodded solemnly. “It’s time for you to cut your weaknesses loose, Vito. Now step in and finish the job.”

He put a crudely made shiv in my hand, pushed me forward, and shut the door behind me.

* * *

“Vito,” says Leo from the driver’s seat. “We’re here. What do you want to do?”

It takes me a moment to drag myself away from the strength of the memory. That room … those moans … the blood … I shudder. It is best to pretend that whole night never happened.

I look up. All of my brothers are looking at me with expectant eyes. How many times have we trained for circumstances like these? Midnight attack, locked and loaded, hungry for the blood of the enemy? I have been taught what to do. My brothers know that I am in charge here.

“We stay put for now,” I order. “First, I consult with Father.”

I pull out my phone and type out a text to him.In position. Awaiting instructions.

His reply is immediate.Kill them all. Leave none behind. Burn the building when you’re finished.

That didn’t take long.

Fuck.

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