Page 50
Story: Devotion
For the first time since I arrived, I have time on my hands. Time to consider bad news, to speculate on what might be going on out there. With my brothers. With the Diamante family, our assets, the extended members of the syndicate across the globe.
None of that was ever really my concern.
Now, itstillisn’t. I’m so far removed. Yet it plagues my dreams. My idle thoughts.
Who will lead? Will our empire fall apart completely?
Somewhere, I know Adriano and Gloria must be in hiding. Maybe he’s biding his time. Maybe he’s trying to find me.
Or they’re doing what Alessandro and Isabella are doing and moving on with their lives. Starting a family. Who knows?
“Pyotr,” I mutter, scowling. “He has to know more.”
Thinking back on our interactions so far, I can see it. He knows more than he’s been willing to tell me. Probably to use, to keep me on a leash. To bait me and keep me in line.
It’s exactly what I would do in the circumstances. Given everything that’s happened recently, I’m a handy little bargaining chip if he can figure out when to play me. Either to offer me up to an enemy, or use me as an attack dog.
Why they even wanted me as part of the Bratva to begin with is still beyond me, but now Iamin, for life. And that in and of itself has me at odds with myself.
If my family is really gone, then fuck it.
If they aren’t…I may have signed my own death warrant if I ever see any of them again.
At least I have Matvey. Vanya. Not that I’m ready to let somebody crack my shell, really let them into my heart, let alone my pants. Vanya, not Matvey.
Ugh. I need to pull my head out of my ass.
I’m sick of my own bullshit by the time I reach the pier, flinging stones along the surface of the canal. It’s so fucking cold here. But I don’t want to go back yet.
So I let my feet wander through different parts of town, getting to know the side streets, the signs, the landmarks. St. Petersburg is stunning. But it’s also so different from my history.
The one thing it has in common is that old-world feeling.
Iconic.
Brighter lights around me signal that I’m in a new part of town, somewhere different. At this point I’m just walking to keep from freezing.
Maybe I should just run. Not right now, although it would get my blood pumping.
But in general. Like Adri wanted me to do.
Leavethe lifebehind. But I know I would fall back into old habits. Gambling. Which would inevitably lead to taking shady jobs for cash. Smuggling. Hit man. Then I’m right back inthe lifeagain. Assuming the Bratva wouldn’t immediately track me down and kill me if I bolted.
“Stay the course, young Zero,” I whisper, hearing my uncle Giancarlo’s voice. “Or better, show these assholes who you really are. Show them what Diamantes are made of.”
Because that is what has really been warring inside me. This spark to prove myself. To win.
I hate how much I want to show Fyodor, Pyotr. All of them.
Maybe it’s time to stop being the spoiled, lazy shit I’ve always floated by on, and make a name for myself.
Or maybe I’ve been walking all night getting caught up in typical semidrunk all-nighter overthinking nonsense.
With that in mind, I turn toward home, intent on getting a few hours of sleep before going to see Pyotr or Fyodor. I need a task. I need a goal. I need answers.
I’m stomping along with my hands in my coat pockets, my collar shrugged up to my ears, when I hear something ahead. Down a side street.
Sidling up to the corner, I sneak a peek.
None of that was ever really my concern.
Now, itstillisn’t. I’m so far removed. Yet it plagues my dreams. My idle thoughts.
Who will lead? Will our empire fall apart completely?
Somewhere, I know Adriano and Gloria must be in hiding. Maybe he’s biding his time. Maybe he’s trying to find me.
Or they’re doing what Alessandro and Isabella are doing and moving on with their lives. Starting a family. Who knows?
“Pyotr,” I mutter, scowling. “He has to know more.”
Thinking back on our interactions so far, I can see it. He knows more than he’s been willing to tell me. Probably to use, to keep me on a leash. To bait me and keep me in line.
It’s exactly what I would do in the circumstances. Given everything that’s happened recently, I’m a handy little bargaining chip if he can figure out when to play me. Either to offer me up to an enemy, or use me as an attack dog.
Why they even wanted me as part of the Bratva to begin with is still beyond me, but now Iamin, for life. And that in and of itself has me at odds with myself.
If my family is really gone, then fuck it.
If they aren’t…I may have signed my own death warrant if I ever see any of them again.
At least I have Matvey. Vanya. Not that I’m ready to let somebody crack my shell, really let them into my heart, let alone my pants. Vanya, not Matvey.
Ugh. I need to pull my head out of my ass.
I’m sick of my own bullshit by the time I reach the pier, flinging stones along the surface of the canal. It’s so fucking cold here. But I don’t want to go back yet.
So I let my feet wander through different parts of town, getting to know the side streets, the signs, the landmarks. St. Petersburg is stunning. But it’s also so different from my history.
The one thing it has in common is that old-world feeling.
Iconic.
Brighter lights around me signal that I’m in a new part of town, somewhere different. At this point I’m just walking to keep from freezing.
Maybe I should just run. Not right now, although it would get my blood pumping.
But in general. Like Adri wanted me to do.
Leavethe lifebehind. But I know I would fall back into old habits. Gambling. Which would inevitably lead to taking shady jobs for cash. Smuggling. Hit man. Then I’m right back inthe lifeagain. Assuming the Bratva wouldn’t immediately track me down and kill me if I bolted.
“Stay the course, young Zero,” I whisper, hearing my uncle Giancarlo’s voice. “Or better, show these assholes who you really are. Show them what Diamantes are made of.”
Because that is what has really been warring inside me. This spark to prove myself. To win.
I hate how much I want to show Fyodor, Pyotr. All of them.
Maybe it’s time to stop being the spoiled, lazy shit I’ve always floated by on, and make a name for myself.
Or maybe I’ve been walking all night getting caught up in typical semidrunk all-nighter overthinking nonsense.
With that in mind, I turn toward home, intent on getting a few hours of sleep before going to see Pyotr or Fyodor. I need a task. I need a goal. I need answers.
I’m stomping along with my hands in my coat pockets, my collar shrugged up to my ears, when I hear something ahead. Down a side street.
Sidling up to the corner, I sneak a peek.
Table of Contents
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