Page 64 of The Russian's Forced Bride
He paused and then grinned sadistically.
“It didn’t matter because I liked the sight of his head rolling over on the floor. The bastard didn’t even care if I was dead or not. He abused me, stifled my mother to the point she killed herself, and fuck, I was so glad when he died.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat as he pointed right at me.
“I don’t care about your silly life and how fucked up it might seem. Fuck, I had to keep myself from strangling your little neck every time you whined like a baby. You honestly disgust me,” he sneered, nostrils flaming with hate.
He hated me. I wasn’t surprised, but it still stung. Why had I felt so much love from him—more than I did from Rafael? It was all too confusing. But I had to keep reminding myself that this wasn’t the little brother I had grown fond of. This was someone else. Mateo Saavedra. And I wasn’t supposed to care if Joaquin’s nephew liked me or not.
Just then, Joaquin caught Mateo’s attention by placing a hand on his shoulder. He then leaned into him and whispered something into his ear before turning on his heel to leave the room.
“I’ll see you later,Chiquitta.” Joaquin grinned eerily. “Word is, your husband is on his way for you, but I don’t exactly think he’s heading to the right place.”
My face paled at Joaquin’s words as he winked at me before exiting the room, leaving me with his nephew.
I gulped hard. If Rafael was headed to the wrong location, then I had to find a way out of here myself. I knew I had to. There was no way I could rely on external help at this point. The more time passed, the weaker I was getting, and it was only a matter of time before I passed out cold.
And I was sick of everyone making me out to be nothing other than a spoiled heiress who spent her whole life locked in a golden castle.
That wasn’t the life I lived. Nothing about being traumatized since I was six was a life worth envying.
I had to make them pay, one way or the other. I refused to die here. So while Mateo continued pacing around and talking about how he found pleasure in killing and making more money from his devil of an uncle, my brain reeled on what to do.
The only true exit was behind Mateo, and he had it blocked with his body, swinging the spiked bat in his hands like an accessory—as though trying to tell me that if I tried anything crazy, he wouldn’t hesitate to bash my head in.
But I knew he wouldn’t actually kill me. Hell, I knew that if they wanted me dead, they’d have done so from the start. Mateo seemed like an impulsive brat, but he still followed orders. And I bet whatever Joaquin whispered into his ears had to do with keeping me alive for the time being.
My tears kept flowing, but I had already mentally steadied myself. I wasn’t going to be weak and hope for Rafael to save me. And though it still hurt to look at Mateo’s face, I tried to block my emotions out and think logically.
Mateo was right. The world was truly a fucked-up place. But now I understood why the Bratva were so ruthless with their enemies.
There were only two choices they could ever make: kill or be killed.
And I figured, I was going to get my baby out alive if that was the last thing I did.
My hands reached out to the thick ropes that had me bound to the chair. My fingers could feel the knotted tie that had been made, but I couldn’t for the life of me untie it. My eyes then skimmed over to the bat swinging in Mateo’s hands.
It had spikes on it. Sharp spikes that could set me free.
I was immobile and couldn’t quite jump him, but I figured I could do something else.
I then tuned in to his rambling, exaggerating my sniffling so it caught his attention—and it did, because he had his eyes now narrowed at me for cutting him short.
Bingo.
“I…I…I need to pee,” I stuttered brokenly, urging him to come closer.
He stared darkly at me. “I don’t give a fuck if you piss your pants right here,princesa. Don’t play stupid with me.”
I gulped and nodded, shaking my head at him as I said, “Rafael is going to kill you,” in a bid to spite him. And it worked.
The veins on his head visibly tightened at my statement, pure rage overtaking his pupils as he strode over to me just like I had wanted. And then—just like Joaquin had stupidly done moments earlier—he crouched right in front of me so our heads were at the same level.
And then he dared me, “Say that again to my face.”
I didn’t have to, because I immediately rammed my head against his with all the strength I had in me, hoping it’d be enough to knock him out.
The bat he had been holding fell to the ground right beside me as he stumbled back, holding his head as he groaned in pain. Unfortunately for me, he hadn’t blacked out like I had expected, and my head throbbed intensely at the force I had used.
