Page 89 of Broken Sins (Volkov Bratva 3)

And I’m sick of being the only one who does.

Dad doesn’t say anything for a long time. My choked sobs quiet down as I regain control of myself. He looks out the window again, his face betraying nothing. “I did what I had to do for you and your mother,” he whispers.

“No.” I shake my head firmly. “We never asked you to kill for us. We never needed you to hurt people on our behalf. You didn’t do anything for me and Mom. You did it because you wanted to.”

It’s so hard to read him. He’s always had a great poker face. But as I watch with firm resolve despite my tears, I swear I can see the mask slipping a little bit. There is a human in him—somewhere deep down inside.

“You’re not wrong,” he admits finally. “But you’re not quite right either. I think the truth is that I did what I’ve done because it’s what I’ve always done. It’s what my father did. It’s what he raised me to do.”

I blink. It’s like I am seeing double. The Bianci brothers and my father are birds of a feather, men cut from the same cloth. They are broken men who are sons of broken men. And if something doesn’t intervene to stop them, they will have sons and turn them into broken men too. I think of all the portraits lining the walls of the castle and I realize just how far back this chain stretches. I remember the dusty photo albums shoved in a deep corner of my father’s office back home. His dad and grandfather and all the men in his family going back generations. I always wondered why those men looked so grim-faced and brooding. Now, as I see it in my own father and in the faces of the men I now belong to, I understand. It’s all so clear. So wrong.

But it’s not irreversible. I have to do what I stepped into this room to do.

“They’re going to hurt you, Dad,” I whisper. “Because of what you did.”

He shakes his head. “I would never let that happen,lubimaya.I would never abandon you like that.”

“It doesn’t matter what you would let happen, Dad. You killed their family. They want revenge.”

He scoffs. “I have troops waiting. If I don’t come out, they will come in.” He cups my face in his hands. “I will protect you, Milaya.”

A lone tear chases after the others on my face. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t see that their way of life will only lead to more bloodshed and more bodies. How many lives ruined is enough? I think of Anastasia, of the Frat Stars, of the other countless, faceless victims that the brothers and my father have alluded to over the years. War begets war. Blood begets blood. Broken men beget broken men. It’s a vicious cycle, spinning endlessly into the future.

“I wish I could believe that,” I tell him. “I really do. But I can’t rely on you to keep me safe anymore.”

I push back from the table and stand up. As I do, the door swings open to reveal Mateo, Leo, Dante, and Vito standing there. They file in one after the other. They really are beautiful, I notice, grim and stark like avenging angels. Their eyes burn in that rainbow of colors.

My father stands. “You never intended to negotiate,” he says softly.

“No,” Vito answers. “We intended to execute.”

He nods. “That is a mistake, Bianci.”

“It is inevitable, Volkov.”

I’m crying freely now. The tears drip from my jaw onto my bare feet. Everything is so fucked up. I wanted so badly to fix it. Maybe I was wrong though. Maybe none of this is fixable at all. This is just how the world works, perhaps, and I’m powerless to do anything about it.

“Come with us,” Mateo says. He steps out of the way of the door. My father marches through, head held high. Mateo, Leo, and Dante all follow him out.

Vito turns to look at me just before he leaves. “Are you coming?” he asks.

I wish I could say no. I wish I could stay here and cry by myself, the way I want to. I want to cry for innocence lost, for lies revealed, for the ugliness of the world being shoved into my face.

But I can’t say no.

So I nod and follow the Bianci brothers to my father’s execution, wondering the whole time:how can I stop this?

25

Vito

This is a moment ten years in the making.

Luka Volkov stands in front of the hearth in the great room. He is haughty and proud, as befits a man of his stature. But pride will do him no good now. He walked willingly into the lion’s den. Surely he knew how this would end. How could he not? And yet he came anyway. Perhaps he is not the brilliant tactician that the legends made him out to be. Perhaps he is just like my father—overcome in the end by his own obstinacy.

I wonder if he has a trick yet to play though. The room in which he spoke with Milaya was bugged of course, and we heard what he said.“I have troops waiting. If I don’t come out, they will come in.”Does he know that we have soldiers stationed all in and around the castle, nestled amongst the trees and the turrets, standing at the ready should anything unexpected unfold? He must know. But all is quiet for now. All is still. There is only the crackling of the ever-present fire and the creak of a castle that has seen so much bloodshed and is about to see yet more.

Ten years have passed from the first seeds of this war until now, when they have matured into full bloom. Ten years since we found my uncle’s body dumped like a cut of beef on the front steps of this very building. Ten years since I watched my father fall to his knees at his brother’s side and cry to the heavens for mercy. It was the only time I saw his hardened shell crack.

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