𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇

XXII

— RORI —

"And you, Little Red, are my half-sister."

It takes me around ten seconds to process Damiano's words. All the while, i diligently analyse his appearance.

His hair is not as fair as the likes of Yakov's dirty blond, yet not as dark as Zephaniah's brunet. His eyes are extremely pretty: a light green shade, akin to that of Wyatt's. His nose is large — definitely Italian — and, again, i recognise this feature from some of my brothers. As well as his olive complexion and sharp jawline which all eleven of us have in common.

The majority of his features are clearly Italian, as is his forename, which leads me to believe that his mother must also be of Italian descent.

Well, my father certainly had a type!

And, of course, to top it off, he shares with us the infamous Russian accent. Though, although his understanding of the English language is clearly broad, his pronunciation could use some work.

"I have ID, if you don't believe me," he adds.

I nod my head, though i am not sceptical in the slightest.

"ID would be good."

His expression unmoving, he gestures to the trench coat.

"Inner left pocket."

My eyes never once leave his as i retrieve his leather wallet, sliding it across the desk.

Wordlessly, he hands me a card. I take note of only the key information, such as the fact he was born on the fifth of July, 1988, meaning he is currently thirty years old: twice my age and just over two years older than Zephaniah.

But when i look at his name, which reads 'Damiano Henrykovich Łabanowski, i am filled with confusion.

For Henrykovich means that he is the son of Henryk. Only, Henryk is most definitely my uncle...

"I don't understand," i say, and place my pointer finger on the exact word. "Henryk is my uncle. That would make you my cousin, not my half-brother."

I seriously think he might have made a mistake. Albeit, his English is not bad. But mistakes happen.

Hell, even i — who has been fluent in the language for several years now —struggle at times. After all, there are three different variations of several words! Who wouldn't mess up from time to time?

But, alas, when he shakes his head in response to my query, i know there is more to it.

"We share the same mother. Not the same father."

What in the name of—

"Our mother was married to my father. Your father's older brother," he explains, as if the scenario is perfectly normal. "She had three children with my father, left him, then had ten more with your father."

What in the name of—

"I know," he says, reading the bewildered expression on my face. "It is a lot to comprehend. It is...средневековый."

"So, we're not in fact half-siblings but three-quarter siblings?" i point out, and i can't contain my grimace.

"Technically, yes, seeing as we are also first cousins," he confirms.

"This is cредневековый," i agree.

Damiano scrutinises me with those eyes of his once more. His expressions confuse me now. He is far more stoic than any of my brothers. He is much harder to read.