Page 8 of Captured By the Bratva

And it turned me on. It made her a target. I saw her as a dare. A challenge. The details blurred, rendering Becca not only a woman to hold hostage for a bigger purpose, but also as a new plaything to break and treasure.

If she could handle having her eyes opened wide to a hard fuck like that, I wanted to be the man to show her that world.

Stop.

She wasn’t a member at this secret club. Becca wasn’t here as a guest or looking for a good time.

She’s a hostage.

Or she would be soon.

“This way,” I encouraged her, gesturing for her to follow me.

“Oh!” She startled easily, blushing a wickedly sexy pink at being caught watching and admiring that scene. Off balance, likely turned on to the point that she was dripping, she staggered after me through the crowd. “Wait. I think I came in through a door over there.”

I took her hand when a pair of men came close, eating her up with their predatory stares.

Fuck off. She’s not yours.

She wasn’t mine either, not like I instantly wanted her to be.

“This way,” I repeated, thrilled when she held on tighter to my hand, nervous with those men eyeing her.

“Wait. I think?—”

Too late.

Bringing her through another door that led to a private hallway, I held her slim body against mine and grabbed the bindings out of my pocket.

“Wait. What—I—” Her scream was cut off with the rope around her head, and I grinned in the darkness as I tied her up to be transported.

4

BECCA

Ibucked and flung out my arms, wrestling as soon as the door closed behind us. This tall man guided me out of the throngs of people trying to get near that scene, but in the mix of confusion and the adrenaline rush of witnessing something so taboo, I was too flustered to think straight.

To realize this huge, strong man that staff member called Ivan was leading me further from the safety of others.

No one saw him steer me into this dark room. I was too hurried to understand where he was guiding me to resist or even react.

One moment, I was watching a man do wicked, naughty things to that woman, and now?—

“Let me go!” My roar of a protest fell on his deaf ears, muffled into an incoherent blur of noise as he tightened the fabric around my head and cut off my scream.

My heart hammered against my ribs. I couldn’t breathe fast enough through this panic overwhelming me to a dizzy state of almost passing out. All my senses felt fried as I tried to slow the blur of anxiety and terror to something I could manage and fight my way through.

His strong arms locked in a manacle around me as he lifted me. Effortlessly. Carelessly, even. Up and away, he carried me with my mouth silenced behind a gag, my hands tied together. Still, I kicked and flung my legs the best I could to break free. In this darkness, I wouldn’t know where to go, but if he lost his steely grip on me, I’d run. I would sprint away as fast as I could.

Because I’d had it.

This wasbullshit.

A lifetime of men controlling me had me rabidly enraged, furious behind the stark horror and panic of what was happening.

Anotherman.Anotherasshole trying to decide my fate and take charge of me.

I was sick of it, so damn tired of being pushed around and used, moved as someone else saw fit. Doing what someone else deemed necessary. Years of repressed anger and frustration boiled to the surface, but with the uptick of ire, I couldn’t breathe fast enough.

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