Page 68 of Bratva Butcher

I punched. I kicked. I screamed. I tried to rip the bars off with my bare hands. Kick them down. I did everything I could, ignoring the pain in my body with each failed attempt, but it was no use. Nothing worked.

“Dimitri,” Autumn whispered, so softly that I could barely hear her.

Releasing a defeated sigh, my aching limbs fell to my side. Illayana gave me a small smile. It broke my heart.

“Vse normal’no.” It’s okay, she said, voice strong. “I’ll be okay.”

“Aww,” Talon cooed. “How sweet. You all should try and get some rest. Trust me when I say that you will need it.”

Agony gripped me hard, refusing to let me go as I watched Talon walk out of the room, dragging my only daughter behind him.

Chapter Twenty-One

Autumn DeValos

“Are you okay?”

What a stupid fucking question to ask. Of course the man wasn’t okay. He’d just watched his only daughter being taken away by someone who would do anything to see him suffer, and the rest of his children were locked in cages right beside him.

Dimitri didn’t answer me, not that I really expected him to. He was sitting on his cot, staring at the steel door with every shred of his focus, like he was trying to will it to open. For his daughter to return, safe and unharmed.

That lost, hopeless look on his face did something to me. Made me feel something I’d never felt before—an overwhelming compulsion to help.

Argh.

What was happening to me? Since when did I give a shit about that kind of thing? Since when did I give a shit about…Dimitri?

I wasn’t a selfish person, but I also wasn’t the type to give a rat’s ass about anyone who didn’t matter to me. It just so happened there wasn’t a single soul on Earth I gave a shit about.

At least, that was what I thought.

“Butcher. You alright?” I tried again.

Still nothing. He didn’t even look in my direction.

Two of his children, Nikolai—the man I’d met briefly when he snuck in and delivered our food—and the long-haired class clown, Lukyan I think his name was, were both asleep. Aleksandr was sitting up with his back to the concrete wall at the back of his cell, his legs crossed at the ankles and arms folded over his chest. His eyes were closed, but I wasn’t sure if he was actually sleeping.

He looked exactly like his father, and I mean,exactly. Just a younger, slightly stockier version. Dimitri 2.0. He’d tried consoling his father after Illayana had been taken, but I wasn’t the only person Dimitri was ignoring.

He hadn’t said a word to anyone since it happened, and it had been at least a day since she walked out that door. I was sure of it.

Fed up, I decided to act.

I threw a pillow at his head. It jostled him out of his stupor, and he cut me an angry look. I waved.

“Forget I was here, did ya?”

He huffed like an angry dragon blowing smoke out of its nose, then he turned his head, going right back to ignoring me again.

He needed a distraction. Something to get his mind off what might be happening to his daughter. Something to get him talking.

“How old is she?”

His eyes flicked to me.Jackpot. The Butcher only had one weak spot, and it was his children.

His gaze moved back to the door. I thought he wasn’t going to answer me until he said in a deceptively small voice, “Twenty-one.”

Okay, progress.

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