Page 11 of The Devils' Darling

Grigoriy’s hand slams down on top of mine, a fresh wave of pain hitting me.

“Do not get any stupid ideas, Kitten.”

I let out a sob. That was my one chance, and it’s gone.

He turns off the faucet for me then takes hold of the ring in the collar.

“Come.”

He pulls me from the bathroom and back down the stairs to the first floor. He drags me so harshly that I trip and stumble. He doesn't try to hold me upright, but instead lets go so I fall hard on my knees. He kicks me, his shoe connecting with my ass, laughing as he does.

“That's it, little Kitten, crawl to the stairs. Make your way back to your cage.”

A murderous rage fills me. I welcome it because it's so much better than the fear. If it's the last thing I do, I will get my revenge on this man. He doesn't know who I really am. Look what I did to the professor. He might be a terrifyingly huge Bratva leader, but he's still flesh and blood. And that means he can bleed.

I reach the stairs leading down to the basement, and he pulls me up by my hair, making me yelp. A second man appears in the doorway, a vicious-looking gun glinting in his hand. It’s not the one who came down to collar and feed me in the cage. How many men are here?

“Do you need me, boss?” he asks.

“No, I think we can manage,” Grigoriy says. “Can’t we, little Kitten?”

“Get the fuck off me,” I grit out.

He laughs. “Come on, my sweet pussy, let’s go play. Maybe we can call Kirill and let him listen in.”

I struggle, but it’s no use. He pushes me down the stairs, and it takes all my focus not to fall and tumble down them. I’d probably break my head open if I did, so I try not to trip as he manhandles me roughly down to the bottom of the steps.

Instead of the collar this time, he takes hold of my wrist.

Grigoriy marches in front of me and pulls me behind him to the cage. He opens the door and throws me in, then slams it shut. I should step away, out of reach, but I don’t. He reaches through the bars and grabs me at the last moment, one big, meaty hand wrapped around my neck.

With his other hand, he produces a large padlock from his pocket and yanks me close, so my face is pressed against the bars.

I realize what he’s about to do, and terror shoots through me.

“No, no, stop!”

He loops the hook of the padlock through the ring on the collar and quickly fastens it to the cage. The bars run vertically, but there are also three horizontal bars at equal spacing to strengthen them. He fastens me to a section in the middle, so I can neither slide the lock to the top or the bottom, preventing me from either lying down or standing straight.

Grigoriy stands back and admires his work. “That’s better. No running now.”

I let out a sob and claw at the collar and the lock. Already, the muscles of my lower back burn from the awkward position I’m in, and I sink to my knees to relieve the pressure. I look up at Grigoriy with intense hatred.

“Put your arms behind your back,” he commands. “Let me see you push that chest out for me.”

I ignore him, so he grabs my tank top and pulls me toward him, twisting the material in his fist.

“Fine,” he snarls. “I'll just rip it down the front and free these nice tits.”

And he does. He tears my top as easily as if it's made from tissue. He rips right down the middle until it floats around my sides in tatters, and then he pulls the remains from my body and tosses it away. It reveals my bra and the waistband of my sweatpants.

I try to cover myself with my hands, but he reaches between the bars and pushes them away.

“You’ve got the best tits I’ve seen in a long time. How about I take a closer look? After all, you’re going to be feeding my heirs. Best make sure I think they’re good enough.”

He roughly pulls my bra down, and I cry out in dismay. I try to gather it against me, but he yanks it hard enough that the metal hooks at the back give, and he drags the straps down my arms, the material grazing my skin. His calloused hands grab my breasts, plumping them together and squeezing them upward for his perusal.

I hate the feel of his hands on me. I’m sick to my stomach and terrified, but I’m also utterly helpless, and that is the worst.

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