Page 105 of Ruthless Reign

“You’re going to pay for giving another man your virginity. I’m warning you now—it’s not going to be pleasant.”

I claw at the cushions, every muscle straining as I fight to escape his crushing weight. I won’t willingly give him my body. Ever.

“You don’t even realize how depraved you are,” I gasp. “I don’t care what you do or if my parents agree. I won't be marrying you and neither will my sister.”

He's panting, a sheen of sweat on his brow, as he grabs a handful of my hair again and forces me to look at him. “Listen carefully to what I have to say next. You're going to forget about Roman. He’ll be dead before sunrise anyhow.”

Horror spirals through me, but I refuse to show Anatoly how much his threat hurts. Maybe he’s lying, just saying that to scare me. Roman will be careful, he promised.

“You're going to shut your fucking mouth and marry me as planned. I won't be the laughing stock of Moscow, rejected by a stupid bitch like you. While I know you're a lying, conniving slut, you're useful to me. At least, for the time being.”

I clamp my mouth shut. I don’t know how I could possibly be useful, but there’s no point in arguing. For whatever reason, I'm still valuable to him. When I stop being useful, I'm a dead woman. And while I can accept that, I can't accept that I didn't try to stay alive for the others—Roman, Sofiya, even Kira and Maxim.

“I’ll do what you want. I'll marry you and be what you want me to be, but you have to promise to let Sofiya go unharmed.”

“Unharmed? Well, that’s up to you. I make no promises. But let her go? Unfortunately, I can’t do that.”

Panic constricts my breathing; whatever is coming next won’t be good.

“I was never going to marry Sofiya, that was just an easy way to control you. Sofiya is spoken for.” He bares his teeth in an ugly smile, and my heart picks up speed. “By the end of the year, both of the Ivanov daughters will be married off. With your father's blessing, of course.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” The hatred in my voice is palpable.

“I’m talking about Sergey Zhukov. He’s taken a real shine to your sister, likes them young and pure. At least one of the Ivanov sisters knows how to keep her legs shut.”

With a twisted sneer, he pulls his hand back and slaps me across the face. My head snaps back, blood leaking from my nose.

“Your ass better be untouched is all I have to say.”

All the pent-up emotions from the past two years burst forth. I’m yelling, clawing at him, and unleashing all the fury simmering within me.

He grabs me, his hand tightening around my throat threatening to cut off my air supply.

Terror consumes me. I struggle for my next breath, the air wheezing out of me in short, desperate gasps.

“Listen, you fucking bitch.” Spittle flies from his mouth onto my face. “You're going to marry me, and Sofiya’s going to marry Sergey. We’ll be the most powerful bratva in Europe, united by blood.”

Horror curdles in my veins. This was his plan from the beginning. I was always a pawn, a means to an end. But to drag Sofiya into this… And Roman.

Oh God, Roman.

Anatoly finally releases me, and I suck air into my lungs, trying to get my head on straight.

Sergey Zhukov. What kind of a sick monster wants to marry a teenager? Then again, what kind of sickos are involved in human trafficking? No matter what, I have to find a way to free my sister, even if it means sacrificing myself.

“You're delusional if you think this plan will work. If anything happens to Roman, you'll have the whole of the Belov Syndicate on your ass. I don't care who you're connected to—you don't want to mess with them. You're punching way above your weight.”

“The Belov Syndicate won't exist in a few short hours,” he hisses in my ear. “By this time tomorrow, everyone important will be dead.”

Devastation rips through me. I can only hope he's saying this to scare me because the idea of a world without Roman, and possibly Kira and Maxim, is unbearable. I have to find a way to warn them, but I’m not sure how. The only thing certain is that I need to stay alive and vigilant for any possible opening.

He presses himself into me once again, his hands sliding up and down the sides of my body, making my skin crawl. I close my eyes and try to block out his touch, just like I did every time he put his hands on me. I'm somewhere far away when I'm jolted back to reality by his phone suddenly ringing.

“Fuck,” he grits under his breath.

Breathing hard, he pulls back from me and answers the call, his erection still pressed firmly against my ass. Whatever he hears on the other end of the line causes him to stand and wrench me up by my hair.

“Pull yourself together,” he barks. “We’re going now.” He slips the gun Roman gave me into the back of his pants. “And remember: you don’t behave, and your sister pays. It’s that simple. Understand?”

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