Page 65 of Broken Sins (Volkov Bratva 3)

Another memory strikes me, apropos of nothing.

My father took me camping, years ago. It seemed like an oddly innocuous activity for a man like him. But I didn’t think of that until much later. “Just you and me, my oldest,” he said with a friendly clap on the back. “Father-son bonding, eh?”

We drove miles into the northern reaches of the state, chattering idly about my training and education. By the time we arrived at our campsite, it was nearing dark. We hurried to construct our tent and cook a meager dinner. He told me that we would go for a hike early the following morning, so it was an early bedtime for the two of us. I fell asleep easily.

When I woke up, he was gone.

There was a scrap of paper tucked under a log at the mouth of the tent. “Find your own way home.” It was in his handwriting. He’d taken the rest of the supplies, so I had nothing but a compass and a walking stick. The tent was too much to carry; I left it behind.

It took me a day and a half to find my way out of the thick woods.

I arrived home just in time to blow out the candles on my tenth birthday cake.

That, too, makes me shudder, and I file it away with so many other similar memories. Father is dead, just like Sergio. There is no bringing him back.

“Sir?”

I look up. One of the lieutenants, Carlo, is looking at me. “Yes?” I snap, harsher than is required.

“We are awaiting further orders, sir.”

I glance around. All eyes are on me. Leo looks distracted, as he has for the last day or two. I make a mental note to question him later. Maybe he is suffering from the same Volkov-induced sickness that I am.

“You men are dismissed,” I say. “I need only my brothers to remain behind.”

Carlo nods. He and the rest of the second-tier leadership file out, each offering me a bow and a shake of my uninjured hand as they leave.

When they are gone, I look at my brothers. “We have a mission tonight,fratelli,” I tell them. “It is time to go hunting for Russians.”

* * *

I was going to be in a lot of trouble when I got home. Father would punish me. Antoni would run me ragged. My schoolteacher, Signora Arianna, would drill me ruthlessly.

But I didn’t care.

Because this was heaven.

Audrey’s hair draped over my face like a curtain, shutting out the world. It was dark in here. Quiet. Still. There were no yelling taskmasters, none of Father’s cruel jabs or stony silences. I could finally breathe.

I let out a sigh that came from somewhere deep within. It picked up steam, collecting things as it went, and when it finally passed my lips, it was full to the brim of the weariness and sadness I had carried with me since the day I was born. I let it all go.

I felt a million times lighter when her lips brushed mine. When her hand stroked my chin. I could sigh and mean it and actually feel—well, if not free, then something akin to it. As close to freedom as I would ever get.

The sad truth of my life was that I would never be truly free. It was my birthright to bear this burden. A hundred-plus years of family history sat squarely on my shoulders, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to shake it. Not now. Not ever.

But with Audrey, I could snatch away a brief moment in time where I forgot that I was carrying that immense weight. That was enough. That was bliss.

“You’re not going to fall asleep on me, are you?” she teased.

I reached up and ran a rough thumb gently across her lips. “Am I not sleeping already? Isn’t this a dream?”

She rolled her eyes and pinched my side. “I knew Italian men were supposed to be romantic, but that’s awfully cheesy, V, even for you.”

She was the only one who could get away with calling me nicknames. I let her, because I loved her. I loved her in that way that only a teenager can love: with the all-consuming intensity, the unwavering belief that every other thing in the world could burn away, but if I had her, it would still be fine. I loved her like air.

It would be my undoing.

But in that moment, I didn’t know it yet. All I knew was that when she kissed me, I could breathe. That was the only thing that mattered.

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