Page 3 of Bratva Butcher

I was withher.

Yekatarina Volkova.

She was the woman who owned my entire heart and soul. The love of my life. My forever. I was lying in our bed with the woman who haunted not only my dreams but every waking moment of my life. Holding her. Kissing her. Smiling as she chastised me for being too hard on the children.

I wasn’t there, getting cut into, burnt and beaten like a personal punching bag. I wasn’t there, watching Dominik smile every time he put the lit cigarette against my flesh.

Thinking of her brought forth a whole different kind of pain. A harsher, more crippling kind that overrode the physical torment I was being made to endure. Because there was nothing more agonising, more soul-crushing than losing the person who was your everything. Your entire reason for being. The only person who knew exactly who you were and loved you anyway.

Thatpain blocked out everything else happening to me to the point where I barely felt what Dominik was doing anymore.

Which, of course, angered him further.

He breathed out a frustrated sigh. “You know, this isn’t any fun if you don’t play your part, baby brother.”

Hewantedmy pain. My cries. Wanted me to beg him to stop, beg for mercy, but I refused to give him any such satisfaction. Refused to give him any indication that what he was doing was hurting.

I’d rather fucking die.

Maybe it was stubbornness. Maybe it was stupidity. I didn’t know. Either way, I refused to give in.

My wrists burnt with unrelenting pressure, the cuffs digging painfully into my skin. The tips of my toes scraped across the cold cement floor as my body swayed back and forth. The air stank of piss and blood, a nauseating mixture of that strong metallic scent and ammonia.

Soft whimpers echoed around the room from the other prisoners. I wasn’t sure how many were in there. Who they were. What they were doing there. All I did know was that they’d no doubt be feeling some sense of relief because the longer Dominik spent on me, the longer they were all left in peace.

He flicked his lighter open and let the flame burn, holding it in the air between us. I didn’t look at it. Didn’t acknowledgehim. I just kept my eyes forward and head held high. He moved the open flame closer and closer, waiting for me to react, anticipation shining in his eyes.

My heart rate sped up. I controlled my breathing so it wouldn’t show. So he couldn’t see how much I was dreading what was about to happen.

There were a lot of things I could ignore, but having a hot, open flame pressed against me?

No. Not evenIcould ignore that.

Heat flared across my skin as the flame neared the sensitive area of my lower abdomen. I closed my eyes and squeezed my hands into tight fists, breathing through the pain.

In and out. In and out. One, two.

It wasscaldinghot. Unbearable. That horrid stench of burning flesh wafted up my nose. I growled low in my throat, half out of frustration, half out of anger and pain. He was keeping the flame on the same spot, allowing it to just burn and burn and burn through me, straight through the layers of skin, fat and sinew. It would be a third-degree burn, at least.

A sadistic smile curled on Dominik’s lips. “Finally. A reaction. Let’s keep that momentum going, shall we?” He moved the open flame around to my side, and I hissed, my body involuntarily twisting to try to get away from the pain.

You fucking son of a bitch.

Dominik released a giddy laugh. “Yes! Yes! Now the funreallybegins!”

I hated that fucking look on his face. Hated that I’d inadvertently given him what he’d been searching for.

That hatred fuelled my determination. My willpower to never let that bastard win. Never let him see me weak.

Yekaterina. Yekaterina.

My mind focused on her, not on what was happening to my body.

Yekaterina. Yekaterina.

Numbness drifted into my limbs.

Yekaterina. Yekaterina.

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