Page 6 of Used By the Merciless Bratva
If it’s a legacy my parents left me, I won’t let it go to waste.
If it’s Mafia-related, I’m washing my hands of it.
I rummaged through the entire locker and ended up with only a handful of keepsakes—items that didn’t remind me of my dad’s death.
The rest will go to charity first thing tomorrow.
I noticed a man in a dark jacket and jeans walking a few feet behind me as I left the street. I dismissed my concerns about being followed when I got on the bus, and he was nowhere to be seen.
But my relief was short-lived.
I found three masked men waiting for me at my apartment door. My heart raced as I tried to turn around soundlessly and maybe just walk on. I wasn’t so lucky.
One of the men turned around and gave me a sardonic smile before turning to his colleagues and gesturing toward me.
I sprinted toward the fire escape, ignoring the trembling in my body.
I was halfway through when I felt a strong hand clasp my right ankle. My screams didn’t go on for long as another man covered my face with some thick cloth.
“We wouldn’t have had to do this if you didn’t activate the archives, baby,” one of the men stated, gripping my arm.
“What archive?” I asked, forgetting that my voice was too muffled to be audible.
“Your name has reappeared. You’re coming with us,” the other guy divulged.
I struggled to release myself from his grip, but he didn’t budge.
“Don’t try anything stupid. For your own good,” the first guy warned.
The looks the masked men gave me were enough to tell me what I needed to know.
I was, indeed, about to be kidnapped.
History might be repeating itself real soon.
But…how?
Oh, God.
I suddenly felt light, as if I were afloat.
And then…nothing.
Chapter 2 – Danil
“It seems like they exploited a weakness in our night security, Boss,” Pavel disclosed immediately after he entered my office.
“It seems or he did?” I asked, steepling my hands on my dark wood desk.
“He did,” he answered, his eyes looking away from mine.
Pavel was a smart soldier, one of the best. But his inability to look straight into others’ eyes in unpleasant situations was what I hated the most about him. There was no close second. If I had only noticed it in his conversations with me, it would have just been right. I was his fucking boss, after all.
But I saw it even when he was talking to his fellow soldiers or strangers. It made him appear as a sorry excuse for a man, and that was why I rarely sent him out with the others. I would never give anyone a reason to see my men as anything less than formidable.
“He did,” I repeated, nodding. “And why is that?”
“Boss, the second—”
