Page 20 of Broken Sins (Volkov Bratva 3)

He won’t let go of the wheel.

The car stays straight.

We go screaming out of the parking lot. Behind us, all the gunfire has come to a halt. Silence resumes. The darkness swallows up the silhouettes of my father and my youngest brother.

They are gone.

4

Vito

We pull into an abandoned gas station fifteen miles down the road. I put the car into park and sit.

Around us, the metal groans. It has been twisted and bent, but it has carried us to safety.

Most of us, that is.

The bodies of two of my father’s lieutenants are stacked in the trunk. Dante, Mateo, Leo, and I are the only survivors.

Everyone else is dead.

None of us say a word. What the fuck are we supposed to say? Our father whipped us all like disobedient cattle until we went where he wanted us to go—right into the eye of the storm. It claimed the lives of so many men. The Bianci organization has been decimated. Why? That is all I can think to ask.

There was no good reason for this. It was foolhardy from the beginning. I tried to tell him. I tried to change his mind. But he would have none of it. Now, look where it has gotten us. Our brother dead. Our father dead. The highest ranks of our organization, dead.

There are just four of us left.

I turn in my seat and look into the eyes of my brothers. Each of us is staring into the middle distance, trying to process what just happened.

“I swear this to you right now, my brothers,” I say in a rasping voice. “The Volkov Bratva will pay for what they’ve done.”

Though it is dark in the car, I can see the whites of my brothers’ eyes. We nod in unison.

Blood will be spilled for this. Lives will be lost for this. War will be waged for this.

By right, I am now the don of the Bianci Mafia. And I say this: we will not rest until we have our vengeance.

No one says anything for a while after my oath. It hangs in the air between us like fog. Eventually, Mateo speaks up. “Listen to me,” he tells us. “I have a plan.”

Milaya

Friday Night

“Eeeee!”

There is about a 0.2 second gap between me opening the door to Anastasia’s apartment and getting yanked inside. I’m instantly bombarded with high-pitched girl squeals that cut through the booming pop music. Anastasia jumps up and throws her legs around me as she plants wet, sloppy smooches all over my face and neck. “Ahhh, I’m so glad you’re here!”

“Wait!” I yelp. “Wait, you’re gonna make me—“

Fall, is what I was going to say. But I don’t have time to get the last word out before we tumble over and hit the ground. Somehow, Anastasia lands on top of me. Even though she’s petite, that’s still a hundred-something pounds dropping straight onto my rib cage. The air rushes out of my lungs with a harshoomphand I immediately see stars.

Anastasia is cackling like a madwoman. She must’ve started drinking without me. Rude.

From my vantage point on the ground, I can vaguely see three uncorked wine bottles sitting on her kitchen counter. Wait, actually, there’s only one, it’s just that I’m seeing triple from smacking my head against the hardwood floor.

To add insult to injury, her little Pomeranian, Rosco, comes sprinting up from the back room and starts humping my leg.

“Anastasia …” I wheeze. “Get your little rat dog off me, please.”

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