I don’t know what to do with my hands as they start to feel heavy and twitchy. Nothing makes you hate humanity more than hearing about the worst of it. I don’t think I’m going to be able to go back to sleep after this.
I obviously know very little about Anya Morozov. I know that she’s Anton’s youngest, and that she’s a well-known ballerina in the Russian ballet scene. I know that she has two older brothers, Dmitri and Ivan. And now I know the worst thing that has happened and probably will ever happen to her. It’s so messed up that it makes my head spin.
Mafia princesses being hurt is such a tough subject for so many. Some families find it shameful, or embarrassing. Somedeal with it openly in the name of revenge, and some never speak of it to give her the illusion of privacy. And for Anya, I know that means years of pitying looks and unwelcome sympathies.
The mafia world is wide and yet somehow incredibly small. Everyone hears everything that happens at any given time. I usually know much more than just everyone’s names, because I make it a priority to do so. But I don’t look into neutral parties as heavily as I would look into an enemy or even an ally.
“Do we think any of these sick fucks are heading in our direction?” The sound of Leon’s voice startles me out of my thoughts.
My second eldest brother’s question is projected through a tablet that I didn’t realize Remo has been holding. As an underboss, he lives a couple hours away—toward the edge of our territory—and therefore wasn’t available to be thrown out of bed at 3:00 a.m. like the rest of us.
At least he was awake to be conferenced in. Emilio is probably passed the fuck out with his wife, none the wiser to the awful news we’re all absorbing. Since he’s our family’s version of a representative to the civilian world, he isn’t often involved in the criminal side of things. So being a part of a meeting where we’re being told to kill on sight isn’t exactly his place, anyway.
“At least two have East Coast ties,” Apollo answers, speaking up to make sure Leon can hear him. “We’ve given their faces to all our men with a made-up reason. If anyone asks why you’re looking, they’ve been accused of looking to traffic more than just drugs in our territory.”
Human trafficking is a big fucking no-no. It’s a good way to get the men fired up and looking without giving up the real reason.Probably Apollo’s idea.He’s a stiff, domineering jerk most of the time, but he’s always been clever. Him, Leon, and Cassio especially.
“Don’t talk to too many people,” Uncle warns with a grunt. “We don’t want the wrong ears listening in and tipping them off that they’re being looked for before we can locate them.”
A few mumbles and sounds of agreement echo around me.
“Any more questions?”
So many, and yet none at all. I feel like I’m intruding just knowing the things we’ve all learned. It’s for a good reason, yes, but it still feels wrong all the same. I wouldn’t want a bunch of strangers knowing my greatest trauma, and I certainly wouldn’t want them asking extra questions about it.
Dad nods at our lack of response. “We’ll let you know if we get any more updates in the morning. Get some sleep, if you still can. And it goes without saying, that this information doesn’t leave this room.”
All my brothers voice their agreement and begin to file out of the office. I follow the group, almost feeling dizzy as I do. A knot of tension is still sitting heavily in my gut as I overhear Nico and Remo in front of me.
“I need those files digitized.”
“I figured you would.”
“Tonight, Remo.”
“I gathered that, Nico. It’ll only take me two minutes.”
“Good.”
“Nico?” I call quietly, quickly jogging to catch up with the twins.
He stops walking and gestures for Remo to go on without him.
“What?” His reply isn’t as frosty as it can be.
Nico is our future enforcer, learning under Uncle Cesar. He’s technically a sociopath, I think. Anti-social personality disorder without a diagnosis. He likes torturing and killing more than I like dessert, and that’s saying a lot.
“Why do you want the files digitized?”
He looks at me like that’s the dumbest question I could have asked, face pinched. “I want them on my phone.”
I hold back a sigh.“Obviously.But why?”
“Because, I’m going to hunt them down and kill them.Obviously.”
Suddenly, that knot of tension begins to feel less heavy. “You are?”
“Yeah,” he says, almost scoffing the word. “Why would I wait around to see if I happen to stumble upon them? I’ll find them and take my time squeezing every last bit of life out of them. One by one, until there’s nothing left but pieces to send to Anton.”
