Page 58 of Broken Sins (Volkov Bratva 3)

I clear my throat and, in a quiet, hoarse whisper, ask Dante—the only one willing to tell me the truth to my face—the million-dollar question: “What do you want with me, then?”

His face hardens. The fire crackles. Leo takes a sip of his wine and looks up to the rafters, unsmiling. Vito scowls into the distance, and Mateo is clearly lost in thought. It is a pure, powerful moment between just me and Dante, like we’re the only ones in the room.

“Your father took something very precious from us,” Dante says in a lethally soft voice. “So we took something very precious from him in return. And we’re going to use you in whatever way we need to in order to make things right.”

I swallow. I can feel a bead of sweat sliding down the nape of my neck despite the chill in the air. “So this is about revenge.”

“This is about justice,” Dante corrects. “So let me make one thing clear, princess: if I get the chance to hang you upside down, cut your throat, and drain you of every drop of blood you have, then I will do it without hesitation. That ismyform of justice.” His eyes flash as if he’s picturing doing exactly that. Then the anger recedes slightly. He folds his hands in his lap and leans back. “Luckily for your beating heart, my brothers don’t agree.”

“What do they think?” I ask.

He waves a hand dismissively. “You’ll have to ask them. Know this though: you will stay here until all this is over.”

“I’m your little crown jewel prisoner then?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re a pawn in this game,” he answers at once. “It’s up to your dear old dad to make the next move.” He rises, throws his napkin over his plate, and walks away without another word, leaving the four of us sitting in stunned silence.

It’s going to take me a long time to digest everything I’ve heard tonight. That much is certain. My dad, Dante, the Bianci family legacy—the puzzle pieces are slowly revealing themselves to me. I guess that’s better than being kept in the darkness, but I can’t deny that the picture being formed scares the daylights out of me.

This is so much bigger than just one college girl. This is a massive, powerful crime family going to war against my own father. And I’m caught in the crossfire.

I wasn’t lying when I told Mateo that my mother tried to protect me from my father’s underworld. She said it was safer for me not to know things. Dad loved her too much to argue. Whether that was for better or worse, I can’t say for sure. All I know is that I spent my whole life knowing that my father was somehow at the head of a huge, shadowy organization that did things that weren’t always good. I was content not knowing.

That feels so stupid now.

I’m astonished that I’m feeling something I haven’t felt once in my entire two-plus decades on this earth: the first curdle of anger at my dad. Not normal daddy-daughter anger over stupid things like what I’m allowed to wear or can I be excused from the dinner table, but real, true anger.

How could he leave me so vulnerable? I’m clueless and defenseless, like a little baby thrown into the heart of the jungle. He just wanted what was best for me. But he was so wrong.

I’m lost in thought when Vito suddenly stands and paces away without saying a word to us. We all watch him go.

When he is gone, Mateo turns to me.

“I am sorry for my brothers’ behavior tonight,” he says.

I don’t know what to say to that. Maybe he ought to apologize for keeping me in a cell, for starving me, etc., but I don’t think I’ll ever be hearing that particular mea culpa, not even from Mateo.

“It’s okay,” is what I eventually settle on.

“We are still … learning,” he says.

I ask, “Learning what?”

“How to cope.”

“To cope with …?”

But he just shakes his head. “Now is not the time.”

I sigh. I know he won’t give me anything more than that. For as different as these men are from each other, they have at least one thing in common: they’re all stubborn as mules.

Mateo stands to his full height and offers a little bow in my direction. “It was a pleasure dining with you this evening, Miss Volkov. Leo,” he adds, “explain to Miss Volkov her new living arrangements.” Then he follows in Vito’s footsteps and is gone.

The great room is quiet once more. I feel Leo’s eyes burning a hole into me. It is just the two of us now, and suddenly, I feel ridiculously nervous. Not nervous the way I feel nervous in Dante’s presence, which almost has an adrenaline edge to it, like I’m putting my life on the line every time I so much as look at the man. With Leo, I feel nervous like I’m walking down a dark trail in the woods at night, and a snake might leap out from the underbrush at any moment. It doesn’t help how good-looking he is. I think back to his hand between my legs on the stairwell, and that face pressed up close to mine …

“Where are your thoughts, princess?” he asks wryly. His long fingers are toying with the stem of his crystal wineglass, twisting it back and forth in the firelight.

“Er … nowhere,” I say stupidly. “Here.”

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