Page 85 of Broken Sins (Volkov Bratva 3)

I keep walking, moving slowly so as to not leave behind any DNA for the police to find. Umberto and I have masks over our faces, gloves on our hands, and wrappings on our shoes. No need to add intrusive police investigators to my life. Lord knows I have enough to deal with already.

But it is my duty to come here and see what has been done to the Bianci empire.

My initial assessment is complete and total loss. Every step I take inward confirms that.

And when I round the corner and pass through the door that Roberto took me through earlier today, I see that I was correct.

The entire storeroom is a charred mess of melted plastic, destroyed computers, and crates still burning and emitting a foul-smelling smoke. The back wall is blown out completely. And the bodies …

There are so many dead. Earlier this afternoon, they were all buzzing around, the efficient hands of my organization at work. Now, they are disfigured by gunfire and utter savagery. I want to look away so badly, but I cannot. This is my duty. This is what I was born to do.

So I survey the scene. As my eyes pass over each one of the dead, I force myself to look them in the eye—or what’s left of the eye—and acknowledge their loss, thank them for their service, and bid them goodbye.

But when my eyes rest on the body propped up against the door just to my right, I freeze in place.

Roberto’s chest is a yawning gap of blood and broken bone. He looks barely human, more like something out of a horror movie. His face is unmarred. I can see the firm set of resolve in his jaw. He went out like a fighter. I wonder grotesquely how long it took him to die. I pray he did not suffer. That—more than the dozens of other deaths in here, more than the millions of dollars of product lost to this attack—is what ignites me.

I turn to Umberto. “What happened?”

“We don’t know yet. But whoever attacked knew exactly how to do it. None of our guard posts were alerted, and they chose the perfect point of entry. This had to be an inside job, sir.”

I grind my teeth and point at Roberto. “That was a good fucking man, Umberto. He did not betray us.” I sweep my hand around. “These were all good people. Don’t tarnish their memories like that, you son of a bitch.”

He holds up his hands in a mea culpa gesture. “I apologize, sir. I meant no offense. I intended only to relay you my analysis of the attack.”

I realize that I have my fists clenched like I’m ready to strike him in the face. How many allies do I have left? I ought not to intimidate this man into abandoning me too. Forcing myself to breathe, I let my hand drop down by my side.

I turn towards Roberto and walk over to him. I feel stiff and robotic, like I have to consciously think, “Step forward with your left foot. Now, with your right. Bend down. Kneel. Breathe. Breathe.”

I raise a hand and gently touch his cheek with a single leather-gloved finger. “I am sorry, old friend,” I whisper to him. He can’t hear me, but for some reason it feels massively important that I tell him this. “You didn’t die for nothing. I’ll find who did this to you.”

“Sir?” Umberto’s voice cuts through my haze. “I can hear sirens. We need to leave now.”

I look at Roberto for one second longer. I want to memorize his face. Another loss in a sea of dead bodies, but this one hurts almost as bad as Sergio’s did.

The sound of sirens in the distance floats through to me. Sighing, I rise to my feet. Then, Umberto and I slip out of the cavernous hole in the back of the facility and disappear into the night.

I as good as killed those men myself.

That’s all I can think as I stumble back into the castle, leaving Umberto in the garage.

Their blood is on my hands. I let them down. I am the don and they are dead now; that makes it my fault.

I have to do something about it. I have to act—anything is better than nothing.If you stop, you die.That’s what I told Audrey that night. That’s what I’ve told myself every day since.

If I stop for even a moment—stop doing what my father bred me to do, stop moving forward—then the cumulative weight of everything I have been outrunning will kill me. My demons will kill me. The ghost of Audrey’s memory will kill me. I was dreaming of her when Umberto awoke me, and now I cannot shake her.

She is gone, Vito, I tell myself.You will never see her again.I want to believe that.

But when I saw Milaya, it was like she had come back to me.

They have become one and the same in my eyes. Milaya is Audrey and Audrey is Milaya and both of them haunt me every time I slow down for even the briefest of pauses. I close my eyes and I see Milaya, I see Audrey, I see my father, I see Sergio, I see Roberto. All of those ghosts are crowding around me now, because at long last, I can’t keep running.

I trip and keel over and strike my head against the cobblestones of the hallway. I can feel the skin break immediately and feel the hot burst of blood. I see stars. And I fall right back into the dream that I thought I had left behind.

* * *

Father opened the door and let it swing inwards. I saw the blood first. I heard the pained moans second.

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