13. Ciro
13
CIRO
T he drive out of town is quiet.
Vanya stares out the window for most of the ride, dozing fitfully the rest. There is nothing I can do to comfort her.
Her brother is dead.
My best friend is dead.
I carried him to the garage where we loaded up a van and we left the compound behind. With Mocro forces still roaming St. Petersburg, I pushed her to make the call.
Even though we both wanted to look for him, the man who did it. The symbol that Matvey drew in his blood…
It was the same as the mark on the masked villain’s black visage. But we had no way to track him. We needed time to figure out what to do. Sleep. Food.
Vanya needs time to mourn.
Checking the map again, I rub my eyes, yawning as the sun just peaks over the horizon. My body is sore, bruised.
But what really aches is the hole in my chest.
She’s sitting right there. Might as well be across a chasm. Not that I blame her. I know how it feels to lose a brother. Even if I am having a hard time believing my twin is dead.
So I really have nothing to offer her. No experience. And I am the farthest from being the go-to guy for emotional maturity.
But apparently, I have enough self-awareness to have those thoughts these days. Alessandro would be stunned.
We’re cruising through the countryside, my mind drifting, when Vanya’s voice startles me.
“Ciro.”
Shaking myself, I glance at her. Her eyes are distant. Her face calm.
Taking a chance, I reach out, resting my hand on her thigh. Her fingers lace through mine. Well, that’s something.
Then I wait for her to continue, keeping my mouth shut for the first time in my life.
“Tell me something. A story. About your brothers.”
“Um, yeah. Sure. Anything in particular?”
“No. You never speak of them.” She shrugs.
Frowning, I nod, realizing she’s right. “I guess it’s easier not to think about it, but I miss the hell out of them.”
Reaching down, I change the station on the radio, searching until I find some old folk station. Perfect. Gotta set the mood.
“Forty-odd years ago, Alessandro Diamante was born. This was before he became the mysterious legend you and the rest of the world know of.”
The faintest hint of a smile plays on Vanya’s lips as she gazes out the window.
“He was a gangly, blond kid with a knack for any sport you can think of. At least those are the stories I heard growing up from Aunt Eva and Uncle Giancarlo. When I remember him, he was almost an adult. Already weighed down by the responsibility of raising three little brothers. Stern. Stoic. Always looking off into sunsets with a cigarette in his mouth. Regular Marlboro Man bullshit.”
“He sounds like a legend in your mind,” Van sniffs.
“He was! We lost Mom and Dad when I was six. Aless was the only parent I really remember.”
“A shame. Matvey and I did not lose our parents until later. Many happy memories with them.”
“I have a few. Christmas at the brownstone. Chasing Ero through Central Park, Mom screaming at us to stop. A few more that might just be implanted from seeing photos and hearing the stories. But you know how it is growing up in a big mob family. There are stories and then there are tales. The ones I heard the most were of Alessandro on his way up with Dom. I wanted to be like him so bad.”
“So what happened?” She side-eyes me.
“You’re very rude. I think I became like the version of him I heard about growing up.” I smile, shaking my head. I’ve never told anyone this stuff before. Never really analyzed it.
“Larger than life, no?”
“Exactly. And truth be told, he was. Guy was one hell of a leader. Never really wanted the job, though.”
“You are more like him than you think, then.”
“I can’t tell if that’s a good thing.”
“I am still deciding.”
“And I’m still trying to screw it up.”
“Take the old road up ahead on the right. It skirts the village,” she sidebars, stretching in her seat and yawning. “Who is next? Adriano?”
“Ah yes. Adri was the miracle baby. They lost a few between. The guy is a genius. And boring as fuuuuck. Organized, responsible. Wet. Rag. Which seems counterintuitive.”
“He kept the entire operation running, didn’t he?”
“Absolutely.”
“I think I can relate to this brother.”
“That makes him sound cool. Adri is not cool.”
“Paperwork is never cool. It is necessary.”
“Yeah, yeah. Logistics, supplies. No wonder he was always so damn serious and quiet. Less dour than Aless for sure.”
“Firstborn, awkward middle child. What does that make you and Fiero?”
“Accidents?”
“Not true.”
“Aw thanks…”
“Only one of you can be accident. Other one is like bonus. Like collateral damage?”
“I’m about to collateral damage this car off this bridge.”
“Don’t be crybaby. I did not say which one you are. You have not told me about Fiero.”
“We called him Ero.”
“Error?”
“Ha. Why have I never thought of that?”
“Because you are self-absorbed.”
“That was rhetorical. Anyway. Fiero is like the yin to my yang. Or maybe more like the ‘wang’ to my yin. Cause he’s kind of a dick. Girls think he’s hot cause he rarely talks in public. If they only knew! He always corrects me. He’s sour, brooding, borderline sociopathic. Scratch that. He is basically a serial killer. Never smiles. When he laughs, children cry and dogs freak out.”
“Sounds like he would fit in with Bratva.”
“Oh, he would. Clever as fuck. Agile, insanely fast, and he never. Ever. Misses. Not to mention his driving skills. Makes me look like a granny.”
“You admire him.”
“I’m terrified of him. Mostly because we are so much alike. Probably why I always leaned into being a silly bitch. Tried to balance out his demonic energies.”
“You are no angel.”
“You’ve got that handled…”
“Wow. How do you say? Cheesy?” But her smile says it all.
I take the dirt road she indicates, winding up into trees. It’s pleasant. Peaceful. I’ve never really been an outdoorsy kind of guy, but it’s picturesque. The cottage at the top of the hill is like a damn post card.
“This is yours?”
“Technically. Mama and Papa left it to us. We rarely come out here anymore.” Vanya steps out of the car, staring up at the house. I let her drift back through her memories for a while, grabbing the few things we brought with us, stacking our supplies on the porch to stay busy.
After a few moments, she joins me, carrying our bags inside.
It’s exactly what I expected.
Quaint. Cute.
“Seems like a nice place to grow up.”
“We stayed in the summers. Swam in the lake,” she murmurs, resting her hands on the sink, checking the water. The pipes rattle, sputtering to life. “It feels empty. They are all gone.”
Nothing to say to that.
I just stand at her back, letting her lean back into me.
“What happened to them? Your brothers?” she asks quietly.
I debate telling her everything. What does it matter now?
But I can’t compromise Isabella and the baby. Vanya would understand me keeping that secret. Even if it means lying by omission.
“Alessandro is dead.” He may as well be. As far as the crime world is concerned, he is.
“Dom made him bite the bullet. Literally.”
“I heard the rumors.”
“Adriano pulled the trigger. And he…disappeared after Dom went down. Probably in prison or dead. Dom burned everyone he could according to Pyotr.”
Vanya looks up, concern in her eyes.
“Ero was sent on a hit. Not sure where. All of our contracts got leaked.”
“You do not sound convinced. About any of this.” She meets my gaze, her ice blue eyes boring into me. She can read me like a fucking pop-up book. But she does not press the issue, squeezing my hand. “I had an older sister.”
“You have another sibling?”
“ Da . She lives…somewhere else.” Her soft smile tells me everything. That it’s her secret. And she’s offering me this in kind. How did I get so damned lucky?
I leave her to lie down. It’s been one hell of a night.
But I can’t sit still. And there is a task that I can save her from having to do. Heading out to the old shed, I find a shovel. Out at the tree line, a small gap at the top of a hillock overlooks a pond. So I get to work digging.
A few hours later I pause, wiping the sweat and grime from my face. It’s only the late afternoon, but the sun goes down so early this time of year, especially this far north. Still, I got the job done before dark.
Heading back toward the house, I see her watching me from the kitchen window. Without a word, Vanya follows me to the van.
Together, we carry Matvey around the house, gently laying him in the ground.
The sun dips past the tree line. Dark settles.
Dinner is just enough to fill us. Then we both clean up. When I lay down next to her, I fall asleep almost instantly.
“Wake up, dingus.” A familiar voice stirs me.
Ero is sitting in the chair by the window, staring at me with black, empty eyes.
“Oh. It’s one of those lurid dreams.” I sigh, trying to close my eyes.
“Lucid dreams, fuckwit.” Ero huffs, rolling his eyes.
“Pretentious, even from beyond the grave. What do you want, Ero?” I shouldn’t be so put out. I should be happy to see him, even this way. But I’m exhausted. Trying to fucking sleep.
“Let me sleep. Or let me wake up. There’s a hot Russian goddess lying in bed next to me right now who I’d much rather talk to.”
“Cold. Even for you, joker. Choosing her over me. Just like your new home. Just like your new family. Cold.”
“I didn’t have a choice. I’m sorry.”
“Neither did I. Now I’m stuck with you, haunting your dreams.”
“Wake up, wake up, wake up.” I try to pinch myself, to force myself up. “What do you want from me?”
“Just to tell you that you’re going to lose them too. Your new family. Just like you lost us.”
“I still have her. I still have Vanya.”
“Check again, Ciro. Your bed is empty.”
I bolt upright, gasping.
The sheets next to me are cold.
Snagging my jeans, I hop the bed, landing on my butt, flinging my legs into my pants and rushing into the living room. No sign of her.
I’m out the door in a heartbeat, noting the van is missing. Running out onto the driveway, I turn a quick circle, wondering what to do. It’s still dark, hard to see.
Rushing back toward the house, I hurry inside, grabbing my boots, a shirt. I’m halfway to the door when I look out across the backyard. Moonlight casts deep shadows, all silver and blue.
And there she is.
Standing at Matty’s grave.
My heart stops pounding as I step out the back, dragging my shirt on in the chill. As I approach, I notice how shaky she looks. Her coat, lying in the grass. Her harness, fully loaded next to it with two polished Glocks.
Out at the back corner of the shed I spot the van, the back doors open. She must have been loading it up from the stash case behind the old wooden building. Gunmetal glistens in the moonlight.
“You hear back from Pyotr?”
“No.” She sways slightly, her hands clenching at her sides.
“Then what? What are you planning?”
“To kill them. All of them.”
“Vanya…” I reach for her. Her skin is frozen. How long has she been out here?
“Do not!” She shakes my hand off, spinning on me. Her eyes glitter with tears. Behind her I spot the bottle of vodka, sitting by the grave marker, half empty.
“Do not what? Try to comfort you?”
“Try to stop me.”
“I won’t. Just let me come with you. Tomorrow. Another day. We can plan?—”
“All I ever do is plan! All I ever do is wait! Look at where that got us!” She slams her hands into my chest driving me back a few steps.
“Settle down—” I regret saying it the second it’s out of my mouth.
Vanya’s eyes widen, her lips peeling back in a snarl.
“How dare you tell me this! I will not settle down while those bastards are out there. They killed my family. My little brother!” Her shouts echo out into the night. “He was my everything!”
“I know…”
“You know? You who do not mourn your brothers. You who leaves his past behind like nothing! You care about nothing.” Her words slash into me worse than any knife.
“Do not tell me what I care about,” I warn, my voice dropping.
“I will say what I see. If you gave a shit about anything, not enough blood could be spilled in the world to make up for your loss. For our loss.”
Vanya snatches her things, stomping past me. I reach out, not intending to grab her, just to step in her path. In the dark I don’t see her fist until it’s flying right at my face. The brunt of the force deflects as I lean back, catching a glancing blow along my jaw.
“Get out of my way.”
“No. I won’t let you throw your life away.”
“Fuck my life. Fuck you. Fuck everything .”
“I will help you find Pyotr. I will help you hunt down and kill every last one of them. Just not like this. Not while you’re still?—”
“Still what?!”
“Lost! Grieving! Call it what you will.”
“I call you a coward .” She juts her chin out at me, moving to walk away again.
“Call me whatever you want, just come back inside. Sleep. Get warm. Sober up.” Back down the hill, I keep pace with her, staying between her and the van.
“I will kill you if you do not get out of my way.”
“Then kill me. Because you are the only thing left in this world that I care about. And I will protect you, even from yourself.”