Page 2 of Claimed By Shadows

And he’s the monster of my nightmares. I finger the leather collar that has stayed on my neck since that night, a lock holding it in place so that I cannot remove his claim. My body aches with his physical claiming of me, something that happens almost daily and I’ve learned to tune out of it in order to survive.

All my tears have dried up. What’s the point in them if this is to be my life from now on?

The lock on my door clinks, but I don’t move, just continue to stare at the white clouds that roll across the sky outside my window.

“You’re required for breakfast,Kukolka,” one of Sergi’s men commands from the doorway, and I shiver. I hate that nickname. It means little doll, which is exactly how Sergi treats me. Dressing me up to his liking, never once asking what I might like, but forcing things upon me like I’m not really alive at all.

With a small, pained sigh, I get up from the window seat, the black, floor-length silk negligee falling to the floor in a whisper. I hate the softness against my skin, caressing all the bruises my owner leaves there, but it’s something that is beyond my control. I wear what he tells me to or nothing. Just another choice that is no choice at all.

Keeping my gaze lowered, unwilling to see the perverted lust that I know will be in his eyes, I walk out of the room, heading along the hallway and down the stairs towards the direction of the dining room like I do for every meal.

“Kukolka,” Sergi greets, his voice the kiss of a graveyard wind. All my muscles tighten, but I keep my face impassive, my gaze still lowered as I head towards my seat on his right. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Sergi,” I answer, the emptiness in my tone the only rebellion I have. I tried not speaking, but the beatings were not pleasant.

I sit down as someone tucks my chair in with my breakfast of smashed avocado on sourdough sitting on a plate in front of me. I fucking hate avocado, but refusal to eat earns another of Sergi’s harsh punishments, and it only took a week to break me and show me it wasn’t worth it.

Picking up my silver knife and fork, I cut a small piece off, drowning out the talk Sergi is having in Russian with one of his guys. He often has what I assume are business meetings at the table. I guess the Bratva never sleeps and is kind of a twenty-four-hour gig.

“Oh,Kukolka, I almost forgot. Nikolai will be home in a week, and although he’s a busy man, I’m sure he’ll be able to spare some time so you’re not alone every day. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To have some company your own age?” His voice is cajoling, and it takes a gargantuan effort not to show the relief on my face that Nik will be here soon.

“Yes, Sergi. Thank you,” I reply, my voice only trembling slightly. Inside, I am a maelstrom of emotions, a swirling vortex of hope and despair, desperate to see one of my soulmates, yet terrified of what he’ll find when he looks at me.

“You’re welcome,Kukolka,” he says, his hand landing on mine, which is resting beside my plate, my knife gripped tightly. “Now finish your breakfast and then I’ll have one of the men take you for a walk.”

My jaw barely clenches at his words, knowing that not only do the words make me sound like a fucking dog, but whichever man he chooses will hold a leash attached to my collar and literally walk me like a canine.

His hand releases mine, and I resume eating my breakfast like a perfect pet. Going outside, even with a leash, is worth obeying. Getting fresh air, feeling the breeze on my cheeks, and hearing the birds reminds me that there is a world out there. One where my soulmates, my Shadows, are safe, which makes all of this worth it.

I survive so they can live. I obey so they can go about their lives and be part of a world outside of these walls. There is no world if they are not part of it, so this way, I may not be free, but at least they are alive.

And I will endure anything to ensure their safety.

CHAPTER TWO

“I MISS YOU” BY LØV LI

HUNTER

Iwatch as Rowan uses a large knife to cut away this Russian man’s clothes, the sedative still keeping him knocked out. I’d feel sorry for the guy, but I’m pretty sure he was one of the ones who came to the estate that night, so fuck him. He doesn’t deserve my pity.

It’s why I can’t put a stop to Rowan hunting them down one by one and extracting his vengeance on them. It’s exactly what I want to be doing, and several times over the past few weeks I’ve joined in, unable to deny the rage that takes over me when I think of her being taken.

I’ve spent countless hours trying to get a glimpse of her, but Sergi has his mansion and estate locked down tighter than Fort fucking Knox. No one has seen her, and thus far, the men we’ve taken haven’t been able to shed any light on what is happening to her inside that hellhole.

It’s the not knowing that is slowly killing us. We can guess what she may be going through, though things get even bloodier when any of us go down that road.

“Wakey-wakey,” Roman sings, and I look up to see the man’s eyelids fluttering. “Welcome to your death.”

Crossing my arms, I lean against the workbench that contains all of Rowan’s tools and stare at the huge Russian as his eyes focus on his surroundings. To give him credit, he doesn’t show fear, his upper lip curling as he looks at each of us.

“Tvoyu mat bliad,” he spits out, his nostrils flaring. We ignore him, used to being called every name under the sun on a fairly regular basis ever since we were children.

“Awww, there’s no need to be offensive,” Roman replies, his tone mock-offended and his hand on his heart even as an unhinged grin splits his lips. “We’re all here to have a bit of fun. Well, we are. You’re just gonna be in a world of pain until we end your miserable existence.”

The man snarls in Russian again, but Rowan, clearly fed up with all the talk, uses the large knife in his hand to cut a line down the man’s thigh, missing anything vital and causing him to roar in agony. Blood seeps from the long wound, dripping down the man’s leg, who jerks on his chains, the clinking sound adding to his pants and whimpers.

Rowan doesn’t even pause, because the goal here isn’t information, but rather an exorcism of the demon that resides inside Rowan; all that is required is the body of an enemy.

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