Page 32 of Used By the Bratva

“Your eldest brother managed to snatch the gun from me. The little bastard didn’t know I had a knife.” I collect her tear on the tip of my thumb and lick it off. She flinches away from me. “Have you ever stabbed anyone before, Natalie? There’s a bit of resistance at first, but once the knife pierces the skin, it’s like ramming a blade straight into butter.”

As I speak, her body begins to sway. She blinks rapidly before it stops, the blank stare looking straight through me.

I grab her chin, tilt her head, and force her to look me in the eye. She doesn’t get to disassociate from this.

“Your younger brother didn’t fight so hard. But he tried to punch me. I must give the boy credit for that. He couldn’t have been older than twelve, but he tried to land a good punch.”

“No … no…” Her voice is faint, and the tears now flow like a river. Sobs shakes her body, but I don’t let her take her eyes off me.

“I shot him first. As punishment for trying to punch me after everything your family had already done to mine.”

She tries to grab my arm, holding her chin, but I quickly take my hand off her and take a step back. I don’t want to feel her touch. Not now.

“And your father. He at least had the foresight to hide you when we invaded his house. He thought that would be enough to protect you, but my men found you.”

The color disappears from her face; the swaying gets worse.

“I’ve thought long and hard about what I’m going to do with you, Natalie.”

A loud thud fills the room as her body hits the floor. Too late, I realized she was trying to hold on to me.

Chapter 14 - Natalie

The first thing I notice when I open my eyes is the raging headache throbbing in my temples. It feels like a thousand little men are hitting my head with jackhammers, and my brain pulsates until it feels like it’s going to explode.

What I’m lying on is too soft to be the desk I was leaning on, but my vision is still blurry.

I rub my eyes and wipe away the tears that have left dried, crusty marks on my cheeks. I groan and sit up. My head spins as I look around, trying to figure out where I am.

The last thing I remember is Leon telling me that he murdered my family fifteen years ago. He talked about the things he did to them and how they fought, how the knife dug into my brother’s body.

I didn’t even know I had brothers.

Leon’s grin was downright menacing when he told me what had happened all those years ago. The insane look on his face, when he told me about the knife, sent a shiver down my spine.

The whole time I stood with him, hearing the joy in his voice as he spoke, I just wanted to run away. My whole body was screaming at me to run and never look back. To get on the first plane, I could book and get the hell out of New York.

But he kept me trapped. There was nothing I could do to escape.

Leon enjoyed the pain he was inflicting on me.

Bile rises in my throat, and I look at the lilac-colored bedspread beneath me. The large four-poster bed stands in the middle of the room. The walls are white, and a few windows let in plenty of light. The floor moves beneath me as I swing my legs out of bed. I stretch out my hands and hold on to the light oak bedside table as I try to regain the feeling in my legs.

Panic floods through me as I get a better look at the bedroom.

Where am I?

The blood rushes in my ears, and my chest tightens as I stumble to the door, banging my hip against the dresser. My whimpering is the only thing I hear as I press my ear to the door to see if anyone else is there.

I can hear a soft voice on the other side of the door, but it doesn’t sound close.

Still, I have to try and get their attention.

I bang my fist on the white door as hard as possible and jiggle the handle with my other hand, hoping it will miraculously open. “Help me! Hello, help!”

My voice raises higher and higher, my heart galloping through my chest, trying to force its way out of my ribcage. I scream until my throat goes dry.

Pain shoots through my fist with every blow to the door.

---