Page 57 of King’s Promise

Ihave a splitting headache and my first thought is, I didn’t drink anything this time. What the fuck is going on? I open my eyes and squint into what looks like a noonday sun filtering through a small dirty window. The musty smell of corn chips and moth balls hang in the stale air. Thank goodness it’s not summertime temperatures or I’d be sweating.

A chair scrapes and a familiar voice is talking on a phone. “Hit them, Cillian. I gave you the horse as a down payment. As soon as I wed Anya, it’s all mine. You won’t be sorry.” He clicks off and turns to me.

“Ah, you’re up at last.” Sergei is the last person I expected to see here. He flips his sunglasses on top of his head and takes two long strides to reach me.

My wrists and ankles are numb from sitting in one position for too long. “Water,” I eke out.

“Water? Aren’t you surprised? I’m not to be toyed with, Anya. I thought we had something going when you were younger.” He nods to another man in the room, who steps out of the shadows, an automatic machine gun is slung over his shoulder. The man grabs a tumbler off the washing machine and fills it with water from the laundry sink faucet. He lifts the cup to my parched lips. I drink until the container is empty, gulping water to wash the sedative out of my system. I slept and didn’t hallucinate, so I’m less fearful of the side effects.

“I was a kid, Sergei. What did you want from me?”

“It was college, you got to see other men and I wasn’t good enough, you moved out,” he sneers.

“I grew up. What did you expect?” He’s not the Sergei I knew. He’s changed. His eyes are cold and void of emotion. It’s as if I’m looking at a stranger.

“I want you. I’ve always wanted you. Father had no idea I loved you.”

“Father?”

“Yes, we share a father, it was the best kept secret, even your mother kept it to herself. When Igor died, I used it to my advantage to claim the Bratva with you by my side.”

It takes me a minute to understand what he’s saying. If he’s Papa’s illegitimate son, then that makes him my half-brother. Has he gone mad?

“Sergei, if you let me go back to Nikolay, I’m sure we can work this out.” I put on my most sincere face and try to spin the situation given the fact I’m helpless and the guard in the room doesn’t look Russian. Double fuck. I doubt he’ll have a care about me or what is right in this situation given the fact he was probably the one who pulled me from the vehicle. “What happened to Alex?”

“It’s my understanding he’s still alive. However, the Volkov brothers will be taken out once they step off their estate.” He paces the cement floor in black jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, a filled gun clip is on his waist.

Papa said he was a good shot, serving time in the Russian army before he joined us in London. I assume he has tactical training and there is no way for me to warn Nikolay.

“What of my mum? Katerynia? Are they okay?”

“They are home, no doubt being interrogated. It’s pointless, no one will find us. We’re in the Irishs’ black site. There’s no way they will look for us here.”

Finally, a clue. Nikolay and Pavel suspected the Irish were moving into the racetrack and I pray they put it together.

“So, you needed the help of the Irish to do this? They will own you, Sergei.”

He lets out a haughty chuckle and it sends chills up my spine. He’s gone mad.

I long to see Nikolay, not because I need him to rescue me, again, but because I love him. Deep down inside we have a connection. The stress of this situation stirred memories of us as kids. He promised me then that he would marry me and kissed my cheek. Not long after, my family moved away. Our fathers had dealings but us kids never saw each other.

“Father left the Bratva to you, so once I kill Nikolay, I’ll take over. It will all be mine. I’m the rightful heir!” he exclaims like a madman. I noticed him acting differently after Papa died but there is no way I could have predicted he’s gone totally mental in his delusions.

I wondered why Papa kept him on as a guard when he didn’t always behave professionally. A guard needs to keep his feelings in check and remain professional so as to not be compromised. Was Sergei treated more like family? Perhaps, and I wonder if he’s capable of killing.

“What of Baran, did you hurt him?”

“Baran is a better fighter than I am, but someone else did it and killed Father, which left my future open to have everything. All the Irish want is the racetrack.”

“They will never let you go, Sergei, don’t you see? You are better off giving yourself up.”

He slaps me, hard, on my cheek and the chair I’m tied to rocks. Fuck. That hurt but I bite my lip and refuse to cry out in pain.

“Learn your place, you’re only worth something until the Bratva becomes mine, then I can treat you however I want. You’ll be powerless to stop me.”

Fuck, I’m stuck in a basement with a madman, and I’m being used as bait. I pray Nikolay finds me. But what are the odds of that? Slim. I decide the raw facts are more helpful and this means I need to get myself out of here.

Sergei has a holster on his belt, but the huge guard is another sticky situation. I can’t go up against them both.

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