Dark Saint [Romano Brotherhood, #1]

38 | Santo

I'm thinking of Nina as we burst through broken, wooden doors to be faced with at least a dozen faces and twice as many guns pointed at our bodies.

I'm thinking of her as I look around, my own weapon raised, and see everything as we thought it would be. Luciano steps out in front of his men, meaning he's not at the house, not hurting her, and of course he could be sending someone else to do it, but seeing everything the way we planned for fills me with a burst of reassurance. 

We know what we're doing. We've done this before. Nina's safety is so important, so paramount to my own existence, that I worry over it constantly. I let possibilities fill me with doubt and anxiety, let them niggle at the back of my brain and fray my nerves like I didn't become a Made Man before I could even properly read. 

Pushing thoughts of her away, I let cold confidence take its place. 

The confidence holds as Luciano folds his hands behind his back, wearing his nice suit like we've come to this abandoned hell hole for a friendly business meeting. 

It holds, even as I look around us, and I see the beds. There are so many, and each one is occupied by a girl wearing what might as well be rags. My rage builds as I take in the chains that bind them to the beds, and the wild, unfocused look in their eyes that gives me a window into their pain. I know they'll be safe soon, that Melissa and her team will sort through the carnage once we kill these men and take these women to a place more bearable than this.

My confidence holds even as I realize how strategically placed the beds are, how they encircle us and essentially guarantee that we can't fire our weapons without risking their lives, too.

"Gentlemen, let's put away our weapons." Luciano's voice rings out clearly through the space. "It's not too late to come to a sort of agreement. Discuss our options. Massimo? What do you say?"

My brother steps forward and I note the subtle shift in Luciano's men. They're wary and trying to hide it. His reputation more than precedes him, and they see him almost as a sort of supernatural being. As if he could kill them without lifting a finger. As if his mind is so different from ours—and maybe it is.

"What you have done here today is unforgivable," he speaks quietly, but his voice rings clearly through the space as he inclines his head to the women around us. "We're past meetings and discussions, Luciano. I'm afraid we will have to kill you now."

Luciano, to his credit, is still smiling. "There it is. Such passion for such a useless cause. Something about your mother being raped and sold and—surprise!—popping out you and your brothers. And what's even worse, a monster of a father who did it all to her. It's a tragic story. Truly. I understand why you do it, why you hold so closely to this ridiculous and pathetic boundary. If you can't absolve the sins of your parents, the least you could do is cleanse the rest of the world of them. Really," Luciano laughs, "my heart bleeds for you and your brothers."

Shock and something colder—dread—straightens my spine. And just like that, my confidence wavers. Luciano should not know this much about us and our background. My brothers and I are the only ones who know the full extent of it.

Something is very, very wrong.

Simo's composure is unaffected. "You don't need to concern yourself with the reason for which I do things. You only do yourself a disservice."

There's a sudden creak above us, quiet but still noticeable in the silence. Heads crane upwards, realization dawns—

But it's too late.

Mantus sends everyone a gold and diamond studded smile as he shoulders his assault rifle and takes down three men in quick succession, his bullets nestling deep in their foreheads with eerie accuracy before anyone can even raise their weapons.