“Bruno, don’t,” Mikhail says.
“Oh, you didn’t tell her?” My father laughs, grabs my chin with two fingers and turns my head so I’m facing Mikhail again. “Look at your husband, cara. Do you know what he does for the Bratva?”
Mikhail is staring at me, his body tense and his jaw tight, but he doesn’t say anything. I already know he’s handling the drug’s distribution, so I don’t understand why he isn’t saying anything.
“He tortures people, Bianca. They like to call it an information extraction, but, in reality, it means that he beats them, cuts them, and whatever else is needed to make them talk. Look at him well and see the real man you sold your family out for.”
I look at Mikhail, willing him to say something, to tell my father that he’s lying. He doesn’t. Instead, he puts his hand i
