Page 79 of Broken Blood Ties

“Yes. I’m her older sister. Luna Buscetta. Takeme, useme. I guarantee I’m worth more than her. Please,” Luna begs.

Heat sears my face as guilt twists into me like a knife. I want to speak, to yell, to tell him no, something.

“You thinkyou’reworth more. Why is that?”

Luna negotiates. “Will you let her go? If I can deliver on this—prove to be more useful? You’ll let her go?”

There’s a roaring in my ears and I miss the continued exchange between them. This can’t happen. Why is this happening?Because of you!

“This better not be a game.” Another man speaks up from somewhere in the room, but I’m too busy releasing uncontrollable tears.

“Luna, don’t …” I can barely get the words out through my sobs. I shake, wrestling with my ties and feeling utterly helpless.

“I’m Luna Buscetta. But … I am also Luna Balakin. Nikolai Balakin is my husband. I married into the Bratva.”

There’s more commotion behind me that’s cut through by Mr. Rose’s laugh, oily and disgusting. “This is—beyond what I could’ve hoped for.”

He lifts a knife from his pocket, moving toward me.

This is it. I’m dead. He’s not going to let me go, he’s going to slit my throat and take Luna. Damn him. Damn my father.

Never. Never will I ever involve myself with the mafia again. Hell with what my father wants from me.

Luna lunges for him, despite the guards securing her.

“Relax, my little puppet. Lucky for you,youare in fact worth ten times more to us than your little sister here.”

And suddenly, the pull on my wrists and feet is gone. He’s sliced through the bindings. “Take her outside the city and drop her off. She can find her own way home.”

Someone grabs me, clawing at my dress and nicking my skin. “Stop, please,” I yell. I don’t want to leave her. This is all my fault. I can’t leave her. “I’m so sorry, Luna.”

The worst part is the way her eyes lock with mine—there’s no blame, no anger, only relief. Peace is etched into her face, like she can finally rest knowing I’m free and that makes the ache unbearable.

* * *

The rumbling of the car over the road would’ve normally lulled me to sleep, but not now. Defeated, my head rests in the back window, hands tied in front of me.

I did this.

A whimper escapes me, and the tightness in my chest rivals the sweat rolling down my nose.

She traded herself for me.

I killed her.

My hope is that Nik throws the full force of the Bratva at Mr. Rose. My father won’t. Not unless the benefit outweighs the effort.

I shift my feet out of the vomit I threw up after my screams literally choked me. My skull pulses, and I’m terrified another wave of sobs might just blow my head off.

I screwed up getting involved with Tim and this new “club.” I’m a coward. I called my sister, and somewhere deep down I knew she would come. She’s always been there for me. Nights I’d come home wasted and past my curfew she’d cover for me. I’ve treated her awful at times, and yet she took my place.

Sore, I tilt my head enough to gaze at the starry sky. The fact I can actually see them is concerning and proof I’m no longer inside the city. The rich night passes quickly and a foggy haze distorts the thick treeline.

I’m not sure how much time passes, but the car slows and I want to die. At seventeen, I never gave much thought to my life, other than I wanted out from under my parents’ thumb, to party, and model. What I wouldn’t give—scratch that—I’d give itallup for my sister.

What have I done? I’ll never be able to forgive myself.

When the car comes to a stop, I glance up, finding the driver looking at me through the mirror. I move my head back to look out the window. I don’t care where we are. I don’t care what his plans are for me.

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