Page 139 of Scarlet Vows
I shrink back.
A man enters the room, big, ugly, mean.
He strides over and thrusts a bottle of water at me. I smack it away, refusing it.
He laughs. “Pick it up,” he says in a thick Russian accent. “Drink.”
“No.”
“It is not drugged.”
My mouth throbs with the need to drink, but I just look at him defiantly. He looks at me, too, then he leans down, taking my face in his hand and squeezing hard.
“Drink. Don’t drink. I don’t care.”
He lets go and kicks the bottle, sending it spinning across the room.
“Next time, I will open it and drink from it in front of you. Then I will spit in it and make you drink.”
I stare at him, then raise my chin, ignoring the newest ache to add to my list.
My voice rasps as I speak. “What do you want from me?”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know. But I’m a Yegorov, of the Yegorov Bratva. My brother is pakhan. I’m married to the pakhan of the Belov Bratva. My husband and brother will both do anything to get me safely back.”
The final words, the threat, dance on my tongue, but there’s something about him that tells me it’s a bad idea, so I leave it at that.
As soon as he’s gone, I’ll get that water, sip it slowly, but not while he’s here. Because being threatened doesn’t sit well.
Perhaps there’s more bratva in my veins than I thought.
The man smiles. “We’ll have no problem, then.”
He starts to turn to go, but I throw out one more question.
“Who are you?”
He doesn’t answer and keeps walking.
I stand, my questions blooming. “Where are we? When are you letting me go? Where’s my dog? Please, please let me out of this room…”
But he ignores every single word and leaves, slamming the door, and then the lock activates, the key scraping.
I stare hopelessly at the door.
“Let me out,” I say, my voice breaking. “Please. It’s for your own safety.”
But who am I kidding?
I slide down onto the sofa and hug my legs once more. In a minute, I’ll get that water. In a minute. And I’ll make it last.
I want to sob, but I refuse to let myself.
All I can do is hope Ilya finds me.
Soon.
