Page 5 of Savage Empire

“We can’t trust these people,” I grit out. “How could you do this, Yordan? You know what Abramo will do when he finds out!”

Everyone knows that the future capo of the Casa Nostra doesn’t accept any sort of disobedience. And his father just might be even more brutal, despite how elusive he tends to be these days.

“He punched you in the face, Rayna,” Yordan snaps, the sound of his explanation reminding me of the black eye I’ll likely wake up with. The throbbing in my face is easy to ignore with the fear and indignation brewing in my gut. “I wanted to kill him when he pushed you a year ago, and again when he slapped you last month, and every time I’m sure you hid from me. You wouldn’t let me, but he left me no choice this time.”

“I could handle him.” I swallow hard, trying to wash away the heavy guilt in my throat. I’ve tried to shield Yordan from the worst of the abuses I’ve faced, but he’s always been a perceptive boy. Shaking off the shame, I continue, “You have no idea what you’ve just done.”

My little brother stops walking abruptly, spine going rigid. “I know exactly what I’ve just done. I made a decision and I refuse to let you make me regret it. Apollo will take care of us now. I’mnot scared. Abramo may rule Chicago, but he won’t step foot in Outfit territory without permission. They have a treaty.”

His reasoning is sound, but he’s underestimating the lengths vengeful men will go to. “You don’t know that! God, Yordan, you…you killed someone tonight. You can never take that back?—”

“I don’t want to take it back. I’m not five anymore, Rayna! I’m sixteen. A man. A made man. You can’t protect me from what was always going to happen.”

Yordan’s eyes are wild and dark, burning with a fire I’d hoped to spare him from one day. The little boy I helped raise isn’t so little anymore, and that’s a bitter pill I’m not quite ready to swallow.

He’ll never live a normal life; I’ve known that since the day he was born. And still, I tried everything in my power to keep the goodness inside of him. Time was bound to catch up to us, but I can’t deny the sting of reality. In our world, in the world where men rule and women are protected or imprisoned, Yordan has taken a step that he can’t take back.

He’s become a made man. He’s taken a life, and by doing so, he’s officially altered the dynamic between us.

“We’re going with Apollo,” he says, eyes full of command and determination. “We’re going to trust him, and you’re going to be nice. He just saved our lives. You think Frederico would stop at punching you? You aren’t that naive. We know how these men work, how the abuse grows and grows until it kills you.”

We both know he can’t tell me what to do. Technically, neither of us can truly boss the other around. Our relationship has always swayed more toward mother and son than brother and sister, but I’m not his parent, nor his guardian. We’re both wards of the Casa Nostra, and the only reason Yordan has listened to my instruction until now is purely due to mutual love and respect.

Survival has officially come between us now. And though he can’t command me to do anything, he can go his own way. I can’t command him either, and he knows I’ll never leave him. If he’s truly determined to leave this island with the Moretti family, I’m bound to do the same.

My priorities need to shift. Trying to convince Yordan away from Apollo’s offer will be fruitless. I don’t have a sound plan or assurances of safety to draw him to my side, and that fact alone leads me to the maddening realization that he’s right.

Apollo isn’t just our best option, he’s our only one.

My protective instincts collided with my spiteful nature and I reacted like a caged predator. I fucking yelled at the heir to The Outfit. A man who could snap my neck without blinking and without needing a reason to.

Shit.

Fuck.

Why do I do this?

Why do I lash out at the wrong people?

Taking a deep breath, I reach for Yordan’s hand and squeeze.

“I’m sorry,milichko.” His childhood nickname rolls off my tongue in a hushed apology.My sweet.

Yordan has always been the sweetest boy. We live in a cruel world for forcing him to grow up too soon, to shed that sweetness for strength.

“I never wanted this life for us.”

“I know that, Rayna,” he returns, eyes softening along with his tone. “I know you’re scared. You’re always angry when you’re scared.”

My bottom lip quivers. He’s too clever.

“This is the best thing that could ever happen to us,” Yordan continues, sweeping a hand back through his hair. The short, wavy brown strands sway, dangling just above his eyebrows. “The Morettis are nothing like the Casa Nostra. They will takecare of us without holding it over our heads. You’ve heard about them, I know you have. They’regood.”

“You can’t blame me for being skeptical, Yordan. I won’t blindly trust anyone, especially not a mafioso.”

His head bobs in a shallow nod. “So, keep your guard up. But don’t shove them away entirely, sestrá. We need them.”

That’s the problem, isn’t it?