Page 40 of Broken Sins (Volkov Bratva 3)

“Climb, you silly bitch,” I mutter to myself. Despite the doom and gloom of the whole situation, it makes me laugh, if only a little. So I keep climbing, sucking wind, hefting the stupid sword and keeping the blanket pulled tight around me, even though the chill seems to lessen just a touch as I get higher and higher.

I look up an eternity later. It seems like the end might be in sight. A few dozen turns later, the staircase concludes in a small concrete landing. There is a rough doorway cut into the rock walls. Something is hanging just in front of it, on the other side. I can see a tiny sliver of warm, flickering light between the thing and the floor. It’s too dark to say for certain, but it looks to me like a tapestry of some sort, judging by the tassels that tickle the smooth stone floor and the way it seems to ripple a little bit with the air circulating in the space beyond.

I creep closer and reach out a tentative hand to touch it. Yes, some kind of hanging or tapestry. It’s soft to the touch. I step up to it and lean my ear forward. I think I can just barely make out voices. Deep, rumbling voices.

It’s the brothers.

I immediately hold my breath and try not to make a sound. Before I just barge into this room and reveal myself, I need to get some idea of the lay of the land that awaits me on the other side of the tapestry. I grab the sword in two hands, being careful not to cut myself on its edge, and set it down on the ground without letting it make any noise. Then I lower myself down after it. Pressing my belly to the cold floor, I scoot closer to the tapestry.

There’s maybe a half inch or an inch of space between the tapestry and the floor. It’s just barely enough for me to squint between the tassels and get the gist of the room layout.

It looks like a massive main room, a den of some sort. The ceilings stretch way above into the distance. The flickering light I noticed was from a fire in a huge central fireplace. There are armchairs circling around it. Even though they’re facing away from me, if I stay as quiet as possible, the voices of the Bianci brothers echo enough for me to just barely make out what they’re saying, interspersed with the crackling of the logs in the fire.

“… more to life than pleasures of the skin, brother.”

“Spoken like someone who’s never been laid.” That’s Dante, I think, judging by the harsh cackle.

“I’ve never stuck my dick in something I had to pay for, unlike you, oh brother of mine.”

“You’re missing out. Nothing like store-bought pussy.”

“Ah, but you’re more a bottom-shelf kind of guy, aren’t you?” Leo chimes in. I recognize his smooth voice, like glacial melt running past rocks in a stream.

“The only thing I’d stick up the stuck-up queens you prefer is a fist,” Dante snaps back. They all chuckle, and I can’t help but do the same. He’s obviously insane, but once you get past that, Dante is—well, still insane, actually. But in a funny way. He seems like he has a death wish. You can see it in his face, hear it in his words, sense it in the way he walks and carries himself. He is like a train wreck, one I can’t help but watch.

Leo, on the other hand, is the exact opposite. He is so put-together, elegant in the strangest way.

The other two are harder to puzzle out. The fourth one, whose name I don’t know, seems studious and brooding. He was the one who brought me the blanket, I think, though I was still a little loopy from the drugs when he did.

And then Vito. He seems conflicted. There’s a lot of darkness raging in him. Even when I was drugged up and chained to a table in a castle dungeon, I could see that.

He’s stayed quiet so far. But, as I watch under the hem of the tapestry, he snarls, “Enough.”

They all stop at once.

He’s got an undeniable power in his voice. The kind of tone that says he was born to be a leader. It’s dark and irresistible. Even here, where I’m lying huddled in the shadows fifty yards away from them, I feel his “Enough” like a physical touch, almost like the sharp crack of a bullwhip on my bare skin.

“Well then,” Dante scowls, “what are we gonna do with her,don?” He says the last word with a lash of cruel sarcasm.

I know they’re talking about me. I try to tell myself to stay calm. This is just information gathering. It’s a good thing that I’m here. If I know what they are planning, I can counter accordingly. That being said, I’d prefer to be a thousand miles away before they get their chance to execute their plan. I just need them to wrap this conversation up quickly before someone tries to go up or down these stairs. I spy a large patio door about halfway down the right-hand wall. Through the glass panes set in the wood paneling, I can see the moon outside turning a palm tree into a stark silhouette. So that way is out. I can run the distance in twenty seconds or so, I think. For now, I’m just going to wait. They’ll disperse soon enough, and then I’ll have my chance.

“We leave her down there,” Vito says. “Keep her fed and locked up, out of harm’s way. We can negotiate with her father directly. If he gives up all the men who were at that warehouse, we’ll release her unharmed.”

“Fuck that!” Dante snarls. He has stood up suddenly, exploding from his seat with enough force to send it toppling over backwards. I wince as it clatters to the flagstones. His fist is balled and he is trembling with anger. “After what those motherfuckers did to our family? We should skin her alive and send the bastard her head in the fucking mail!”

“Sit down,” Vito grits.

“Come here and make me, brother.”

“Mateo, put his ass in the fucking chair.”

Mateo.That’s the fourth one. Vito, Leo, Mateo, Dante. The Bianci brothers. I shiver. It feels like a final puzzle piece clicking into place. For some reason, I feel like I know them intimately now. Like we’re connected in a strange way.

“Let him speak his mind, Vito.”

“His mind is filled with nothing but violence. That won’t get us anywhere.”

“Please,” Dante drawls sarcastically, “continue talking about me like I’m not here.”

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