Page 9 of Viripotent

He turns serious and sits up as he crosses his arms, and his voice comes out stern.

“You can’t tell lies to the Vor. You’ll be punished.”

Vlad is a fucking dick who threatens a child using their title when he’s too young to have any understanding.

I test his knowledge making it seem like I’m agreeing with him.

“Do you know what a Pakhan is, Vitya?”

He nods, hanging on to my every word, and I try to make it sound less serious than it is.

“Well, I’m the granddaughter of the Pakhan.”

His mouth forms a small O and he fills with excitement declaring, “I’m going to be Pakhan when I’m older.”

It’s cute when I don’t assign reality to it. In his little mind, it’s the equivalent of normal children wanting to be royalty or an athlete. It’s not brutal and dangerous, just the highest spot that others revere.

The door is pushed open with too much force as Storm Vlad makes his way in, and his son hides under the sheets. He throws a bag I recognize as mine onto the bed without any care, and his voice is deadly, calling him out.

“Viktor?”

When he doesn’t move, Vlad stomps closer, the ungraceful ass, and drags him out, holding his leg.

I can’t hide my disgust. It coats my words, and my nails are digging into my palm.

“Do you need to manhandle him? He’s a child.”

I’ve seen the way people have treated children. The bruises fade, but the scars are left on their souls. It doesn’t mean shit ifthey’re born into our world or not. A child is innocent until they choose not to be. Viktor’s scowl doesn’t drop, and it’s even more intense than yesterday as Vlad focuses on me. If he grabs me, I can handle it, a little boy who barely comes past his hips can’t.

He drops him on the bed, and I move without thinking, cradling his head so he doesn’t get hurt and sitting him up. Giving him a smile, I check him to make sure he’s physically okay, and he bounces up, running away from the asshole glaring at me. There’s no warning as the bed dips, and I’m pushed back with a hand over my mouth. His piercing, icy eyes drill into me with nothing but retribution as the deadly tone latches on to me, and he leans into me.

“Do not interfere with my family.”

Biting into his palm to get him off me, he smiles, but there’s no joy, and it doesn’t soften his features. His fingers dig into my cheeks as he hardens with rage.

“Get the fuck up and get dressed. You won’t be around my men half naked.”

He doesn’t allow me to move of my accord and pulls me up with him. Once I’m upright, he lets me go and storms back out, tapping away on his phone.

I need to invest in a knife, or pepper spray, anything that will help me when he does that shit again. Grandfather said that there wouldn’t be any physical harm, but I don’t trust any of them. I know he loves me in his own old-world stern way, but the rules of the Bratva take precedence, and the Vartanovs are royalty. There’s only one Vor in their family but they carry as much fear and respect as Grandfather does when he holds the title. I have no desire to be crowned in marriage with the devilish Vlad, and I have to remind myself that the clause exists to allow me a life once we’ve fulfilled our duties.

Changing into my own clothes shouldn’t be an issue, but I linger, liking the feel of Vlad’s t-shirt. It’s not because it’s his.It’s just soft and smells nice. He probably has good detergent.I count to a hundred and allow myself to hide, surrounded in the only good parts of him before I drag myself out of the bed. My bag has been packed, and I look through the items I’ve been given, knowing my mother hasn’t been involved because the clothes are actually mine and not some twin costume to match with her.

Once I’m ready, I poke my head out of the door, expecting some guard to be watching my movements. It’s empty, and I go down in the elevator, poking my head out on each floor. They’re all set up the same. Even the furniture is exactly the same. Each floor is like its own self-contained apartment, apart from the ground floor, and the commotion can be heard through the glass doors before they open.

As soon as they open, it’s violent. The voices and the atmosphere. I don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m entitled to information and get it myself by keeping close to the wall as I step out of the elevator. The large foyer is tiled in dark granite and contrasts against the stark white walls. The large room with a bar in the corner is in view as I hide in an alcove beside the stairs. Vlad is huge and dressed in another impeccably tailored suit as he switches out vodka for whisky, and his shoulders tense at whatever his father is saying to him. He gets even bigger as a car rolls up to a stop, and Dima rushes into the house.

He sees me and slows slightly, his brows coming together before he walks with purpose to the bar and stops beside Vlad. I’m not close enough to hear them and mentally prepare myself to be admonished like a child when the tension in Vlad’s shoulders increases, and his head turns towards the front door with pure death on his features. I sink back into the wall, self-preservation telling me to run while my legs refuse to move. He walks towards me, his long legs eating up the distance, and abruptly turns, walking straight out of the door.

I’m about to run when Valentin walks through the door a moment later. He isn’t looking at me. His attention is solely fixed on a limping Vitali. There are bruises all over his face, his hair is matted to his scalp, and he grits his teeth as he’s forced to put weight on his injured leg. I don’t owe my loyalty to these people as my future in-laws, I owe it to them as they belong to the Bratva, and it wavers on the next person through the doors.

My heart drops seeing Klea being dragged by Vlad’s hulking frame. His fingers are wrapped around her bicep so tightly that the skin digs in, cushioning the digits. She’s young and delicate. In the instances she’s helped at Steorra there’s always been a smile on her face, matching her pixie features.Now, there are tears in her eyes, and she tries to calm her breathing, but her chest rises and falls too quickly.

The bastard doesn’t hide his violence, and the poor girl looks on the verge of sobbing as he addresses Vitali with disgust.

“You should have been left there to rot. If you need the help of a little girl, you’re of no use to me.”

He’s a vile, poor excuse for a human. Even the devil would hold his fucking tongue at the state Vitali is in.

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