Page 114 of Born in Depravity

My fingers touched the jagged indents of his skin. It shouldn’t hurt me, but somehow the feel of them felt like it burned me throughout.

Tears stung my eyes, and my muscles gave out on me. I covered my face with my hands and sobbed into them, feeling so fucking helpless, so fucking weak.

I felt him still above me.

Then big hands shackled my wrists and pulled my hands away from my face.

I looked up at him with tear-filled eyes.

He must enjoy the sight.

Didn’t he say he loved it when I cried?

Fresh tears spilled out. I didn’t know what that look in his eyes meant, but he was gentle with me when he wiped my tears.

He rubbed them against his two fingers, looking down at them with a look of confusion.

Then he turned to me, his dark eyes taking me in.

He was still bleeding from where I had wounded him.

He looked like a monster.

Only … he didn’t.

He also looked like a man.

Suddenly, Damien slid off my body. He stood by the side of the bed and watched me for a beat before he grabbed his shirt and walked out of there. He never looked back, not even once.

I could only lie there, unsure of what had just happened.

Shock kept me immobile, and I was still in the same position when the door opened once more—only this time, Mikhail came in.

For some reason, the sight of him made me cry even harder.

He didn’t say anything as he kicked off his shoes and joined me in bed.

I let out a small cry when he pulled me into his arms. I didn’t know if the sound was made in relief or in protest, but I did burrow closer to him. Just a little bit.

“Ah,kotyonok, don’t cry. Don’t cry, sweetheart. Today’s Damien’s birthday. He’s always in a bad mood on his birthday.”

I pulled back. “W-why?”

Mikhail let out a small sigh, tightening his arms around me protectively. I didn’t want to, but I reveled in the touch. I shouldn’t have let him get to me. I shouldn’t have let any of them get to me. Just looked at how that had turned out with Damien.

“That’s his story to tell,kotyonok.” He looked at me. I didn’t know how my face must look—perhaps pitiful—because with another sigh, he said, “Damien was born into this life. His mother was raped from someone in your father’s circle, way back when your father still had ties with the Russian Bratva. Did you know that?”

I shook my head. My father hated the Russians. I always thought it was a mob thing. I didn’t know he used to associate himself with them.

“Damien grew up in Russia for the first twelve years of his life, in his father’s house.” He made sure I looked at him when he said, “Then he was sold to your father and was forced to come to America and live in his house.”

My eyes widened as bile made its way up my throat.

Sold.

Like property. Likenothuman.

I closed my eyes. I always knew my father was a horrible man, but to … topurchaseanother human being—a child—was something else entirely.

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