Page 22 of Dangerous Beginnings

“What happened to the feisty girl from before?” he asks, probably wanting me to bite onto it. But I won’t give him what he wants anymore.

“Don’t give me the easy pleasure of starving yourself, you’ll do me a favor, Isabella.” His voice lingers through the room as he looks over to the untouched tray of food. He shoves a water bottle towards me. I look at it, hesitantly. He notices because he opens the cap and takes a sip of the water.

Okay, so it’s not poisoned.

My hands reach up to grab the bottle of water, but I’m having so much anxiety rise in me that my hands can’t seem to grab anything. A sigh fills the room as he grabs the bottle from me, bringing it up to my dry lips. I grab the bottle with my shaky hands as he steadies it. I cough as I work the water down my throat. I just now realize how thirsty I have been.

Our eyes lock and somehow a voice whispers in the back of my mind, telling me that this man and I are destined to get along far better than I could ever anticipate.

Chapter 14

Let us Live, Since we Must Die

Diable

I enter the meeting conference room. The men turn around and stand up as I make my way inside.

“Saditie, dzhentlmen.”Sit down, gentlemen.

I throw the paperwork I had done the previous night onto the large wooden table. I sit down at the head of the table next to Nikita. He is my right hand in this mission of revenge.

“Next Friday we set this plan in action. We go into their clubs to pretend we want to buy one of the women. When night falls, we hit him. We escort Xavier and drug him, bringing him into the warehouse. He will give us the answers we need.”

The men around me nod approving of my plan. These men owe their lives to me, they took a blood vow. And once you have taken this blood vow, you owe your life to theBratva. And theBratvais me, so therefore you own your life to me. In return, the safety of these men is guaranteed as much as possible, and a very good income for their families. There are no women in the Bratva, and there will not be. I will not marry, nor bear children. Women make things too difficult. This fire in me will not be doused until I have Alexei’s head in my hands, chopped off. As I make my way down the hallway towards the parking lot of the building, I can sense that something is off. And before I can press the elevator button a black boot appears in between the elevator doors, opening them up. I reach one hand into my holster, grabbing my gun. But this man, who I have never seen before, has other plans.

He storms at me, lifting his fist in the air, but before he canstrike me, I punch him in the stomach. I had a long fuckingday, and I don’t want to deal with this shit. He coughs as he gasps for air. But when I think he has already given up he lashes out again and strikes me in the chest. I groan. I ball my fists and punch him in his face, multiple times. He doesn’t know me or thinks he can fuck with me.Very wrong.After rearranging his face, with my knuckles covered in blood and cuts, I stop. I grab him by his collar as I lift his feet off the ground. He starts choking on his blood. I look him straight in the eye as his eyes start to go dim and just before he passes out I slightly loosen my grip on his collar. I can see he is not Russian or from my family.

“Who the fuck are you?” I hiss at him. He starts smirking. I don’t have any patience or time for this. I tighten my grip again and with the other hand, I take out a knife hidden in my pocket. I make a small cut into his neck before moving the knife towards his crotch. He yelps. “No, no sorry.”

I stare at him, pressing the knife closer. Ready to cut him open, but he breaks.

“I came to send a message. P-please.”

I stare at him while tightening my grip on his collar. “What fucking message?”

“Alexei,” he nearly chokes as I immediately tighten my grip. “H-he knows, he knows you have a girl.” I feel a heavy feeling enter my chest. I turn back to this man and get my face close to his before speaking, “Tell him, that if he sends another messenger, he sends one with balls.” Before he can speak again, I shove the knife into his crotch. I release my grip on him and drop him to the ground before making my way over to my car.

Fuck.

Once I get back into my car, I turn the heater on. Rage fills me. My hands are covered in blood and cuts. It’s already dark outside, it is just 5 PM. As I drive through the gates of my mansion, I see that I forgot to turn the lights off. I park thecar, shutting the door with a loud bang. I enter my home after unlocking the door. I immediately make my way over to the bar. I need a fucking drink, or ten. I wipe everything off the bar, all the glasses shattering on the ground. Blood drips from my hand, but I feel nothing. What the fuck am I going to do with her? And how the fuck does he know about her?

Isabella

The camera in the corner isn’t on. I learned that a small red light above it shines when it is on, right now there is no such light. Which could mean two things, he’s either gone or just busy with other things. I don’t want to know what other things that might be.

I stand up as my eyes scan the room again. I have scanned the room so many times, but I still hope to spot something different every time I look. I roam around the room. I need to think,think Isabella. When I hear my thoughts talk back to me, I can just hear his voice in my head.Isabella.He loves calling me by my name. While I don’t even know his name.

I turn towards the wall, running my fingers around any slit I can see or feel. I don’t know what I hope to find, a knife. To stab this motherfucker with. Pretty sure I’m not going to find that. I roam around the entire room, every wall, every slit, and every corner. Nothing. My last resort is the door, I run my fingers around it until I find something hard. I dig my nail behind it, trying to take the hard thing off. After minutes of tucking my nail behind the surface, it finally comes off. My eyes widen as I see a scanner. I stare at it. It needs a fingerprint, and I am pretty sure it won’t react to mine. Even though I know that it won’t do anything, I still try to place my finger on the scanner. It turns red, of course. I wish I could chop his finger off, but I am pretty sure he would notice a missing finger. Apart from the scanner, there is nothing in the room. I conclude I am fucked. Slidingdown the door with my back, I am stuck here. Loneliness soon will kick in, starving me for human attention. He knows that. But what good would that do to him? I am just a burden to him.

I think I’ve been staring at the wall for hours now, lost in my thoughts. Boredom gnaws at me, hunger twisting in my stomach. That familiar, creeping anxiety begins to settle in—the kind that leaves me feeling drained, like the world has sucked the life out of me.

Just as I start to drift back into the numbness, the door bursts open. I scramble back, falling hard onto the floor. Standing in the doorway is a man, drenched in blood. His chest heaves, hands slick with crimson.

“Zashey menia,” he growls, his voice rough, but I can’t make sense of it.

“English,” I manage, my voice shaky as I press myself against the wall.

He exhales sharply, eyeing me with frustration. “I said, stitch me up.”

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