Page 13 of Unbroken

What the fuck’s the matter with me? I can’t think like this.God.

I move through the front of Black Line Security. My men nod. Some murmur greetings, but no one makes small talk. I get it. They don’t know which version of me they’re gettingtoday. Hell,Idon’t know which version of myself I’m getting today.

My father was a useless asshole, but he loved his proverbs and spouted them with regularity. I still remember some of them.

Gore ne sprosit, kogda pridet.

Grief will not ask when it arrives.

And isn’t that a bitch.

I swipe my badge at the entrance to the privacy room, the one with the maps, screens, and encrypted comms. This isn’t any old security firm but a fortress and a front. And every man here knows on which side of that line he stands.

Rafail is already waiting for me.

He doesn’t look up when I enter but just points at the screen. The motherfucker can hold a grudge.

“They’ve moved.”

Of course they fucking have.

I take in the red dots blinking on the map. “Any casualties?”

“None today, but it’s only a matter of time, Vadka. And this was near a fuckingschool.”

“Jesus.”

My jaw tightens.

“And the thumb drive?”

“Still encrypted. Even Matvei hasn’t gotten shit.”

I don’t answer. Instead, I walk toward the screens, take the mouse, and pull up the files. I move fast. The Irish aren’t stupid. They hit when we’re weakest.

“You can’t slip. Not now, Vadka,” Rafail says softly.

I still. I hate that tone. It’s worse than when he curses me out.

“I know.”

“Your phone was off. You missed the alert last night. You didn’t check until hours later, and only because Ruthie told you, didn’t she?”

I don’t answer. He’s right.

“You used to be the first on-site. Now I have to send men to cover for you.”

I turn to face him. “I’m sorry. Luka’s had a few rough nights.”

He raises a brow, cold and collected. “And you think the Irish give a shit about Luka’s sleep schedule? You think they’ll wait until you’ve had your morning coffee?” He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Brother, I’ve been exactly where you are.”

I know he has. I remember it vividly. It was the first night my father ever hit me, and I hit him back.

“I was eighteen when my parents died and left me with everything. I became a fucking father andpakhanovernight. I couldn’t fall apart.” He shakes his head. “The same day of their funeral, I buried my parents, then went straight to the butcher shop to slit the throat of a traitor who thought tomake good on our temporary setback. Fucking asshole owed us and thought he’d run, thought grief made me soft.”

I nod. I didn’t know that. I wasn’t in the Bratva, not yet.

“You want to feel something, Vadka? Do itafterthe war.Afteryou know your son’s safe.Afteryou know you can wake up in the morning and depend on the sun to keep on rising.”

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