Page 33 of Forced By the Bratva Beast

“Stop! Chris, I asked you to stop!” Slamming my shoulder into the door with the anger contained inside me, I feel the wood split. Adrenaline fires through me as I aim my foot at the lock kicking it with full force. I know what I heard. Sophia’s in trouble, and all I can see is red. The lock of the door bends, the door springing open as I find the fucker I knew I hated on top of her with his hand down Sophia’s shorts. He has her pinned in such a move that she can’t move, but see she’s trying.

The guy stands, his face full of confused rage that his little afterparty has been interrupted. I notice how hard his cock is bulging through his slacks. The bubbling rage cools to cold ice as I square up with him, seeing the terror on Sophia’s face as she scrambles out from underneath him to safety.

“What the fuck do you want?” he shouts, close to five paces away from me.

Ripping the lamp cord from the wall, I grin at him, taking said lamp and walking closer. The guy’s face is wracked with confusion as I raise my arm and swing the lamp’s base against the side of his head. There’s a loud crack, but I don’t want him knocked out just yet. I want him to suffer. Blood trickles as he touches the side of his head, dazed by the blow.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He falls back temporarily, recovering enough to get up and swing, but I block the punch, cracking a hook across his jaw. His head swings like a hinge sideways as I connect, closing the gap between us, feeling good as I work a crick out of my neck.

“Asshole!” I spit out as he stumbles back against the suite wall, right where I want him.

“Who the fuck are you!” he yells out in pain. “Get the hell out of this room!” I grin at him, shaking my head, and putting afinger to his mouth as I grip the scruff of his neck, wrapping the cord of the lamp around it, and squeezing.

“I’m your worst fucking nightmare,” I breathe on his face. “That’s who the fuck I am. You like that?” He touched her without her permission and now he has to pay for what he’s done.

He catches me slightly off guard, punching me in the gut, but his punch is as weak as water. I bypass his next weak attempts as he tries with all his might to get the cord from around his neck. I drop the lamp, needing both hands, slapping him twice across the cheeks for fun, saliva flying from his mouth.

“What the fuck—” Each time the blows I deliver are shocking enough to stop him. I stomp on his foot hard enough to destabilize him, taking the opportunity to pull my special pocketknife out of my pocket and stab it into the center of his palm, pinning it to the wall, sticking it there. The dumb guy winces and whimpers, his hand spasming as the blood runs.

“Ah, this is fine, isn’t it? So nice.” I grind out in his ear, sticking the knife deeper in, feeling it cut into the tendons, and close to the bones. He yelps in pain, his face contorted, his body wanting to slump, but he can’t because now I have him pinned in place.

“Please, take it out. Please. Please. Please,” the guy begs, and I take great delight in the fact he’s probably about to shit his pants. I keep moving the knife, watching the blood drip down his wrist. His hand is changing colors, and the best thing is I haven’t even gotten started yet. This is the movie premiere.

“Did you touch her with this hand, you grimy bitch? Or was it with this one? I need to know.”

“Take it, take it,” he asks, not able to finish his sentence, expelling thin breaths, but I’m going to kill him. It’s almost as fun as pulling Ryan’s fingernails off in the abandoned basement. This is what happens when you try to take what’s mine. Grinding the knife in one more time for kicks, I wrench it out of his hand, watching the dumb prick drop his hand as I get ready to stab him in the ribs and begin the process of ending his life.

A grip around my waist is the only thing that stops me. It’s Sophia hugging me from behind, sobbing. “Andrei, please, don’t do it,” she pleads, and, in the moment, I understand I was wrong about her. She might have a tough outer shell, but she has a soft heart. She doesn’t have it in her to watch her assailant being killed. While she’s holding me back, the guy has the chance to crawl away, holding his hand with blood dripping along the carpet as he runs out the door.

I bend down a little as she sobs, crumpling herself in a ball on the floor. “What did I tell you? You’re too naïve.” Infuriated and my veins chockful of adrenaline, I take a deep breath staring down at the edge of her camisole, which is torn. I ignore the fact I can see the outline of her nipples through it. This isn’t the time for that.

Sophia continues sobbing hysterically, her body shaking as I hover over her. “Get up,” I direct plainly. “You’re coming with me to sleep in my room tonight.” She listens, looking up at me through her tear-soaked lashes, shakily rising to her feet. She can listen to instructions. I take her hand, firmly gripping it and making her walk out of the room. With all the commotion, you would think other guests in the hotel heard it, but no one comes out. They’re all in their own rooms, oblivious to Sophia’s cries at the hands of an opportunist. If I didn’t come to rescue her, God knows what he would have done to her. Angry all over again, I clutch her hand tighter, staring at the blood spots in the carpetas we go, thinking about where I can find this bastard after this to end him.

I’ll get him later. Get her to the room. That’s all.

Sliding my hotel key card in its slot, I open the door and guide her into my room. “Thank you,” she murmurs quietly, her emerald eyes speaking volumes.

“You’re going to stay here, and you’re leaving with me back to Chicago.” She nods submissively. There’s only one large king-size bed to share.

“I’ll sleep on the couch over there,” Sophia declares lightly.

“No. You can sleep in the bed, it’s big enough. We’ve shared a couch before, so I don’t think sleeping in the bed together is going to be a stretch.” I snicker as Sophia holds my gaze for a quiet second, and I want to tell her she’s safer here than anywhere else, but sensing this, she silently climbs into the bed, peeling back the covers, her face filled with something like relief. “I’m going to take a shower.

Part of my shirt is splattered with blood, but it’s not a sight I haven’t dealt with many a time before. As the spray hits my back and I let the water cascade over my hair, I think about what would have happened. Sophia, my orphan girl, you are too naïve to the evils of this world. I turn the knob watching the river of red run down the drain, relieved I was there in time.

Refreshed partially, I dry off, only adding my boxers and heading back in to find Sophia sleeping. Sliding in beside her, I keep my distance, resisting the urge to spoon her. This isn’t the time or place for it. Shifting a hand behind my head and winding down from the event, I hear the sheets rustle beside me. She’s not asleep like I thought she was. Her head lifts onto the pillow as her emerald eyes question, seeking answers.

“How did you know?” she asks in a meek voice, creased lines rippling on her forehead.

“I’ve always had eyes on you, Sophia. From the day I met you.”

And there’s no escape from the Bratva once you’re in….

Chapter Seventeen – Sophia

This is the first time since last night I’ve felt safe. I should have felt safer lying next to my rescuer, but knowing what Andrei does for a living kept me anchored on the edge of my sanity. I wanted to cry, but the acute trauma of having Chris’s bodyweight on me is playing like a scratched record through my head. His gropey hands all over my body, and his hands scraping around inside my shorts…. I must have gotten up a thousand times throughout the night, but Andrei slept soundly most times I did. The one time his eyes did open, he peeked, and it prompted him to open his drawer, and take his pistol out of his drawer, setting it on the nightstand.

Next to it, he dragged the same knife he was about to jab Chris with, putting it on the bedroom dresser. He crossed his arms, my nerves still shot, crossing his arms and going back to sleep. I didn’t know how to reconcile all the violence and the web I’d innocently found myself caught up in. Violence. His soul is riddled with it, and as much as I wanted Chris to stop, to watch him being killed in front of my eyes would have tarnished my soul and my life for good. I already knew too much about death.

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