Page 123 of Viripotent

“Vor gave an order, you’re not allowed to leave.”

Lying is easy and I use the hierarchy in my favor as I roll the window down fully.

“The Pakhan has requested to see me, if you want to call him and tell him you won’t allow his granddaughter to leave, be my guest.”

Fear has his eyes widening and stepping back. He gestures for the other guards to open the gate and I stop myself from flipping my middle finger up. I’m not the wife of a fucking Vor, I was semi raised on the head of the Bratva’s knee, and they all can suck shit if they think I’ll fucking bow.

I make the journey to the warehouse in half the time, and the outside is clean. I thought it would be filled with a bunch of Bratva meatheads, all eager to watch the violence. My face is blank as I walk in with purpose. I’ve never been to one of the fights. It’s never interested me to see grown-ass adults throw fits of rage for entertainment. But Vlad doesn’t get to die while I sitat home playing good housewife. He can be respectful and die in front of me, so I know whose fuck up it was.

Everyone makes a path, not knowing who I am, or looking away because they do. I can’t see any of the Vartanovs as I walk towards the barbaric cage set up in the center of the room. The closer I get the more disgusting the people are wanting a front row to a fucking kill matches. Someone grabs my arm and I try to rip it away as Katya’s voice comes out.

“With me, Mrs. Vartanova.”

It’s not a demand, but a fearful order that’s unlike her personality, and she extends her voice on my name.

She mutters under her breath as she guides me through the crowd, purposefully avoiding the front row of the cage. It’s too low for me to make out what she’s saying, and she doesn’t stop until we reach a set of doors. Slamming her hand on the wood three times, she pushes through and murder stares back at me with only one person smiling. Ana is dressed to fight and the only person who isn’t insulted at my presence.My previous anger intensifies at the thought of them initiating her, she’s young and fragile.

Vlad steps forward, still in his suit and alive with rage. Ignoring Katya, he grabs my arm, pulling me away before I can even say hello to everyone, rude prick. He stops me opening my mouth without even looking.

“Shut the fuck up.”

I’m going to get his car crushed into a fucking cube so small he can carry it on a keychain.

He continues dragging me behind him into another room, and kicks the door closed. He drops my arm as though I’m in the wrong and takes a menacing step forward.

His voice is deadly, but I don’t move back.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Steeling my spine, my anger is righteous while his is bullshit and I can only say one thing.

“You left me.”

It’s weak and stupid, but he knew it would hurt me. I’m not a monster like Vlad who has no fucking emotions and gets off on being hurt. It’s not fun for me like it is him.

He softens slightly, it’s not enough to reach his voice, and he shakes his head like I’ve missed something.

“You don’t belong here. Go home, Inessa.”

The dismissal adds to my hurt like I’m not good enough to be around a bunch of fucking criminals. Cupping my face in both hands, he plants a chaste kiss on my lips, but still barks commands.

“I don’t want you around those fucking sukas, you are better than them and I won’t be able to keep you safe while I’m fighting.”

I hold the ring finger of my right hand up and say proudly, “You’re on my skin, I thought this means I can’t be touched?”

His smile touches my cheek as he strokes my hair back, and the whisper doesn’t make sense.

“Don’t hate me.”

His lips touch my temple and I open my mouth to ask what he’s done when it’s held shut. He doesn’t just put his palm over my lips, he clamps my nose shut too, stopping me from drawing in a breath. I slap out at him but he’s holding the back of my head, applying more pressure by pulling me into his hand and his stupid fucking lips touch my crown.

“Shh, stop fighting, meelaya.”

My fist hits his ribs in an attempt to get him to let me go, but he kisses my forehead, and pinches my nose closed even tighter with his finger and thumb. His bicep hugs my cheek, but it doesn’t soften or distract me as I weakly try to push my knee up to hit him in the dick.

“You’re going to hurt yourself, don’t fight.”

The tears lining my lashes aren’t from my air being cut off it’s because he’s overpowering me. Breaking his promise again in the same fucking night.

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