Page 18 of Broken Sins (Volkov Bratva 3)

If you stop, you die—the first lesson a Bianci mafioso learns.

In front of me, I can see that Father’s car has come under attack, too. There are shooters spread out all in the night. Some on top of the warehouse roof, some scattered around the ridge of the embankment that encircles the entire property.

More bullets pummel the roof of the car as I drag myself around behind it. Mateo and Dante meet me on the safe side, dragging the injured Leo between them.

“Where is Sergio?” I shout. I glance in the car before either of them can answer and see him struggling. His leg is pinned between the seats.

Wrenching open the door with brute force, I reach in and start to help pry him loose.

“Careful!” he grits out. His leg must be punctured or broken. I see blood from a thousand tiny cuts on his face, courtesy of the glass exploding inwards when the car flipped.

But we don’t have time for careful. Seizing a knife from my belt, I stab it into the leather seats and saw away. Eventually, I get to the metal frame that’s keeping him captive. I take a deep breath, clench it between my two hands, and bellow like a wild beast as I bend the bar away from my little brother’s trapped limb.

Slowly, it gives way, until there’s just enough room for Sergio to extricate himself and climb out of the top side of the car.

He throws himself to the ground next to Mateo and Dante. Leo, too, has joined us. He is bleeding badly from the shot he took to the shoulder, though it doesn’t look to be life-threatening. Mateo is applying a tourniquet to stanch the bleeding.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

I slap myself across the face to regain focus.If you stop, you die.

“We have to move,” I snarl.

“Move where?” Dante asks. “In case you didn’t notice, they’re everywhere. We waltzed right into a fucking trap!”

“Anywhere but here! If we stay put, they’ll come kill us soon enough. If we stop, we die.”

Dante grimaces and nods. I don’t like our options any better than he does, but I’m speaking the truth. We need to leave. This car is trashed though.

That means one thing: we have to get to the other vehicle.

“Mateo,” I say. He looks up at me. “Stay here with Leo. Dante and I will go get the other car. Be ready to go—when we come back around, we won’t have long to stop.”

He nods and turns back to fixing Leo’s tourniquet.

“Dante, you’re with me. Sergio—stay here and provide cover fire.”

“No,” he insists. “I’m coming with you.”

“Your leg is a mess. Stay put.”

“No.” He shakes his head again. “I am hurt, not dead. I will help.”

I grit my teeth. We don’t have time to argue. If he wants to come, fine. Let him fucking come.

“Ready?” I ask.

Mateo, Leo, Sergio, and Dante all grunt affirmatively.

“Then let’s go,” I mutter to myself.

Re-gripping my pistol, I take a deep breath … Then I take off running.

Father’s car is about twenty yards forward. Bullets whine and ricochet on all sides as Dante, Sergio, and I sprint for our lives. I can hear Sergio roaring in agony as he forces his shattered leg to bear his weight. One shot grazes my ear, tearing away part of the lobe. Pain lances outwards in every direction.

If you stop, you die.

So I keep running.

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