Page 93 of Broken Sins (Volkov Bratva 3)

… and Sergio enters.

He looks exactly the same as the day he died. The shortest of us, though his facial features are much the same as my own. Same nose, same jaw, same dark hair swept backwards. His eyes are the violet I remember so well, the same violet I saw on the biker when he stared at me in the alley.

“Sergio,” I say, still not really believing that all this is actually happening.

“Vito,” he responds, inclining his head. Out of context, this would look like any other conversation between us. Innocuous, meaningless, nearly forgettable, were it not for the troops I can hear hurrying down the halls, headed for us.

“We need to run.”

He laughs. “That would be wise, brother. But I’m afraid I cannot let you.”

I nod slowly and wipe a drop of sweat from my forehead. A beat passes. “You followed me.”

“You are very predictable,” he answers. “Every move played out like you were reading from a script. It almost took the fun out of things, you know. And you—” he turns to face Luka. “You are just as easy to manipulate. You thought bringing troops here would save you? They died like dogs, Russian,” he snarls. “I left their bodies in the woods to rot.”

Luka’s jaw tightens and I curse inwardly. I’d been holding out hope that the Volkov soldiers would intervene in whatever the fuck this is that is happening. No such luck.

I swivel my gaze back to Sergio. “This isn’t you, Sergio.”

His face folds into an ugly sneer, one I’ve never seen on him before. “What the fuck would you know about that?” he hisses.

I’m stunned. Where did this venom come from? This isn’t my brother. IknowSergio. I grew up with him. I practically fucking raised him. This man is not him. The angry barbarian sneering at me is something else altogether.

It just doesn’t add up. There is something missing here, an X-factor necessary to explain the most shocking betrayal of my life.

Except that it’s not actually missing. It’s standing right here in front of me, in the form of a pale, dark-haired girl and her father.

The soldiers are coming. I can hear them growing closer, their booted feet pounding into the stones. I’m not sure what I expect from Sergio, but he says nothing, merely looks at each of us with those vivid eyes.

“We need to run,” I say again, more to myself than anyone else.

Sergio withdraws a gun from a holster on his belt and levels it at me. “Like I said, I’m afraid I cannot let you do that.”

My own gun is still in my hand. I know I’m a faster shot than Sergio. I could get him if I wanted to. I could put a bullet between his eyes and end all this right now.

Or could I? Would killing my own brother end this?

No, I don’t think so. He isn’t the problem.

I turn my gun towards Luka.

“You poisoned him,” I accuse.

Luka’s eyes narrow. “What?”

“You poisoned my brother. You bribed him, hurt him, coerced him into this.”

“What the hell are you talking about, son?”

I roar so loud that it shakes the walls, “I’m not your fucking son!”

Luka’s hands are up in front of him as he backs slowly away. It’s the first time he’s looked afraid since he arrived at our doorstep, alone and unarmed. I savor that look. I was taught long ago to seek that look out wherever I could find it. It was how my father ruled, and it is how I intend to rule from now on too. I know fear when I see it. And right now, fear is stamped in Luka Volkov’s face.

“Vito!” Milaya’s voice cuts through the growing red tide of fury clouding my eyes. I keep my gun pointed at Luka, but I look at her. Off to my left, I’m dimly aware of Sergio watching proceedings with an expression of curiosity on his face. “Vito, stop!”

“Stay out of it,” I snarl.

She closes the distance between us and tries to grab my arm. Before she can, I backhand her hard. The sound of flesh striking flesh rings out. She stumbles backwards, stunned, one hand holding her cheek. When she pulls it away, I see the imprint on her face—the same one I saw on Audrey’s face that night. A red bloom, studded in the middle with the mark of the ring I wear.

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