Page 68 of Broken Sins (Volkov Bratva 3)

I swivel my gaze to Mateo, leaning against the far wall with his brows furrowed, deep in thought. “What does that mean?” I ask him.

“It means gone.”

“Gone?” I squeeze Dmitri’s face harder. His skin is cold to the touch now. He has lost so much blood. “What the fuck does that mean?”

He just shakes his head and says the Russian word again.“Ushel …”

“Where are their bodies?!” I roar. I wind up and punch him in the face. “Tell me where they are!” Another strike. Flesh gives way beneath my knuckles.

I roar again and again and punch again and again.

He doesn’t say another word.

That doesn’t stop me from swinging as hard as I can until I feel my brothers pulling me off and I realize that Mateo is hollering in my ear as loud as he can.

“Vito! He is dead, Vito! Let him go!”

It takes all three of my brothers to haul me away from the corpse of the Russian and throw me back against the far wall. My ears are ringing and my fists are throbbing. All I can think is that I lost control. I have never done that before. The man might have still been useful.

But I killed him.

Needlessly. Carelessly. Stupidly.

What the fuck is happening inside my head? I am being crushed by the most immense, invisible weight I have ever felt. It’s hard to breathe, hard to think. I need out of this room. I stumble to my feet and race out into the hall.

I make it maybe five or ten steps before I have to stop, lean up against a stone wall, and hurl my guts up. I keep puking until there is nothing left in me.

When my head finally begins to clear, I look up. Mateo is standing in the doorway of the room I just left. He is looking at me with an inscrutable expression on his face.

“I don’t want to hear it,” I tell him in a hoarse voice.

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Good. Don’t.”

He nods slowly. “What next?”

I point into the room. I am cooling off from my violent outburst, and in the wake of it, I feel so impossibly tired. I want to sleep for days.

“Use what he told us. Set up the meeting.” I wipe the last vestiges of spit from my lips. “It is time we sat down with Mr. Volkov. Face-to-face.”

19

Milaya

I haven’t left my room since the encounter with Leo.

The staff bring me meals and leave them outside my door, but I’m not hungry. I can’t stop thinking about what I did—and most of all, why?

I let him touch me. I let him hurt me.

And I loved it.

Am I certifiably insane?

I crossed a line in the sand that was impossible to miss. It might as well have had blinking lights and big, bold signs saying “DO NOT PASS” and freaking air traffic controllers warning me to stay away. But I charged over it anyway. Lust made me do something that can never be undone. I’m an idiot. I’m a skank. I’m a traitor—to my dad, my mom, my family, but most of all to myself.

I’ve relived the moment again and again in the two days since. Every time I close my eyes, I see his lips and hear his question again:would you like to find out?

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