Page 22 of Chased & Bred by the BRATVA
Boys who thought they were wolves and now realize they’re sheep in a lion’s den.
I turn back to Nikolai. “What happens to them?”
“Whatever you want.” His voice has that rich, low quality that I’ve come to enjoy hearing.
My stomach twists, but not with disgust. With power.
He isn’t asking me to forgive them. He isn’t asking me to condone anything. He’s giving me a choice.
I know men like these. The ones who take women and turn them into soulless shadows. I wasn’t the first, and I doubt I was the last. They’d have gone back for more after I ran. I’ll bet diamonds that I was one of very few who got away.
The memory of the impact of landing awkwardly as I jumped from the car hits me so viscerally, that fresh pain jolts up from my knee and I flinch.
“It’s not what you think,” one of them says, bringing me back into the room. “You wouldn’t hurt us, you’re just a girl.”
Just a girl.
“You know we were just having fun, we were taking you home,” the other one adds, desperation making his voice too high. “It’s not like we pushed you out of the car.”
“You didn’t even know my address,” I counter, standing a little straighter, flicking lint from my sleeve before returning my gaze to him.
“We didn’t know who you are,” the first one pleads, the split in his lip breaking open and causing him to wince.
“So you would have left me alone if you knew who my boyfriend was?” I ask, incredulous.
“Of course! We know not to touch anything that belongs to the Vasiliev’s.”
I take a step closer to them, Nikolai’s eyes burning into the back of me, watching my every move.
“I didn’t belong to him until that night, after I jumped from your car. But it’s irrelevant. You are actively taking and harming women…girls… How many?”
“They’ve picked up over a hundred in the last year,” Maksim’s voice comes from behind me. The guy I’m looking at slumps in the chains. Every part of him seems to soften with realisation and resignation.
“A hundred?” I ask, trying to keep the pain from my voice. The rage inside me bubbles over and I stalk across to him and grab his face, shaking him. “Look at me!”
He lifts his eyes to mine. They are brown. One is blood shot.
He is handsome, even if a little plain. “You could have any woman you wanted, why do you do this?”
He shakes his head softly. “You don’t get it.” He grins, but it’s sinister and cruel. “It just doesn’t do it for me when they’rewilling.”
That’s when I see it. There’s nothing behind his eyes. No love or care or kindness. They won’t stop doing this because it’s how they get their kicks. Their own kind of drug. It will consume them until they do it again and again and again with no thoughtabout the damage they are doing to innocent women who just wanted a night of fun with their friends.
They don’t deserve mercy.
I turn to Nikolai and nod before turning and heading back to the corridor and up the stairs. With each step the air changes, gets somehow lighter as the weight inside my chest moves along with it.
As soon as I shut the door behind me I feel the sob tear from my throat and I run as fast as possible to Nikolai’s suite and straight to the bathroom. I barely make it to the toilet before I vomit until there’s nothing left. I crawl to the shower, reaching to switch it on while I’m still in my clothes.
After a few minutes of letting the water beat down on me, I peel off my leggings and Nikolai’s shirt and toss them onto the bathroom floor. Then I scrub until my skin is sore. My muscles ache, but I feel steady. Still. In control for the first time since the club.
I dress again, someone else's choice of leggings and one of his shirts, soft and oversized. I braid my hair. Try to sit still.
But I can’t.
The house feels too big, the quiet too heavy. I pace around. Choose books from the library then put them back when they can’t hold my interest. Every hallway echoes. I keep seeing their faces. Imagining what they have done to countless women. Knowing they’ll never hurt anyone else should bring me peace. Instead, I feel like I’m vibrating under my skin.
I slip outside.
