Page 6 of Brutal Vows

My white dress shirt clings to my soaked front, highlighting the bandages wrapped around my chest. I sneer at my reflection in the rusty mirror above the sink and shrug out of the wet fabric. Karlos drops the first-aid box from the car onto the gleaming counter. I thank him and use the soap to wash my hands before unwrapping my bandages and peeling the waterproof dressings off my skin.

The bruising between my ribs looks much better than it did even a week ago and the flesh around the multiple rows of stitching is no longer inflamed, but the burning behind my sternum and the constant queasiness in my stomach means I’m not as far along in the healing process as I need to be.

I don’t have time to rest. Every moment Ralf, the man behind Serenity’s kidnapping, remains free is another moment the Russo family is in grave danger.

Ralf isn’t his real name. It’s the pseudonym he used to get close to Serenity. The liar was right under our noses at her college and we didn’t even know. I grind my teeth together in fury at the thought and dig around in the first-aid kit until I find what I need. After a quick wash in the sink with cold water, I apply ointment and fresh bandages in silence.

We suspect he’s Russian mafia, so Rubio’s statement about broken English fits, but Ralf didn’t have a scar on his face. Even after Nico beat him to a pulp for touching Serenity a few days before her kidnapping, no one would describe him as scarred. Maybe beaten black and blue or swollen with a busted nose, but Nico didn’t use a knife.

Which means Ralf or whatever the fuck his name is brought other people from his homeland to New York. We don’t have concrete evidence which Russian mafia family he’s from, and the last thing we want is to start a war without proof, so our search continues.

My four most trusted men who aren’t currently guarding the Russo’s stand in the room with me, waiting for my command. As Nico Russo’s consigliere, my words carry the same power as his.

Nico has other engagements. In fact, I’ll do all the heavy lifting for the foreseeable future so he can devote his time and energy to his pregnant bride.

I check the time on my watch and curse under my breath.

“We’ll take out the rest of Chad’s gang and expand our search to vets, pharmacies, clinics, etcetera,” I say as I strip out of my wet clothes. “Anywhere with medical equipment or drugs.” I unzip the clothes bag hanging from the nearest meat hook and pull on a fresh pair of suit pants. “Keep it within an hour’s drive from the industrial park. He wouldn’t have survived longer.Capisci?”

“Yes, consigliere,” they respond in unison.

I hide my wince as I pull on a clean dress shirt and meet Karlos’s eyes.

“Do I need to come back and check on clean up?” I ask.

“No, sir,” Karlos says without an ounce of hesitation.

I trust these men. They were all at the warehouse the night of the attack and have served Nico Russo well over the years, soI clap Karlos on the shoulder as I pass and thank the rest with a nod before stalking out the door.

Out of sight of prying eyes, I shorten my stride and drop the pretenses, pressing my palm to my sternum and giving my shoulders a slow, careful roll as I limp through the dark maze of halls.

Before I step through the exit, I straighten my spine and drop my fists to my sides. The fury pulsing through me gives purpose to my pain. I duck into my car, check the time, and rush through afternoon traffic to the high-rise the Russo family calls home.

It’s my home, too.

Ever since my father devoted his life to protecting Dante Russo, he’s lived near them. As a child, existing in their shadows rankled, but now I understand the dangers interwoven with power and wouldn’t live any other way. Protecting Nico and his family fills me with pride.

My parents used to maintain strict boundaries with the Russo family, more to keep priorities aligned and safety protocols in place, but ever since my mamma died three years ago and Nico took over daily operations of the Russo business, Dante and his second wife, Kara, have taken my father under their wing. He’s still the same hard-ass, lethal man he’s always been, but he hardly ever eats dinner alone and the Russo’s always invite him to family events. He may opt out more than he attends, but the old geezer knows he’s accepted and appreciated. In fact, he’s happiest when Dante asks him to cover his back at parties and shit, even though Nico always insists they take a small detail everywhere they go.

I take the elevator to the floor my father lives on—which is directly under Dante’s—and relax my shoulders as I ring the bell to his apartment.

Even though I moved into his place after my last hospital stay, I officially returned to my apartment on a higher flooryesterday, so ringing the bell feels odd but is the proper way to respect his privacy.

My father opens the door less than ten seconds later, which means he was already heading out.

Three months past his seventieth birthday, my father still moves with the grace of a man far too aware of his surroundings, but the pallor under his natural tan and the slight wheeze at the end of his every exhale have grown worse in the last few weeks. When I noticed his deterioration, I dragged him to the hospital with me for some tests. The doctors said they’d have results for us at today’s visit, but the looks on their faces as they ran the tests told us everything we need to know.

A low whine pulls my attention down to the shaggy mutt at his side. Despite weighing almost as much as a grown man and having never been in danger in his entire life, my father’s dog leans against his upper thigh and shakes.

“Buck up, Scraps. We’re just going for a walk,” my father says.

I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips.

“What’d you do to poor Scraps, Pops?” I tease.

The dog’s ears perk and his tail nearly knocks my father over as he notices me. He licks my father’s hand, begging for permission to greet me.

“Oh, go on, you ungrateful mutt.” He gestures, releasing over one hundred and fifty pounds of excited canine on me as he grumbles, “Making me look like astronzowhen you know good goddamn well I’ve never lifted a hand toward you.” Despite his downturned lips, amusement shines from his eyes as he shuffles out the door.

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