Page 97 of Bratva Bride

My brows slammed down in a frown. “Why would you say that?”

“Your wedding. I overheard a group of people talking about-”

Gunfire, followed by a loud ear-piercing scream cut through the air, coming from inside the mall. I spun around, my hand flying to the gun at my waist. There was a sharp prick in the side of my neck and I hissed, my hand slapping my skin on reflex.

I swayed, my body suddenly feeling unbearably light, my mind turning hazy, foggy. Like I couldn’t get a solid picture. My knees buckled and I fell backwards, crashing into something hard. A wall of solid muscle.

“Hurry up. Take her. Her guards won’t be distracted forever.”

Rayna’s voice echoed in my head, her words repeating over and over again, and I tried to cuss her out but all I managed was a low groan.

My body was weightless, big beefy arms circling me and lifting me off my feet.

I tried to fight. To punch, kick, claw, fucking anything but it was like my limbs wouldn’t listen to me. They were like jello, floppy and completely fucking useless.

Rayna’s face blurred in front of me, her face distorted yet I could still make out the bright as fuck smile on her stupid ugly face.

She betrayed me. She actually fucking betrayed me and now she was giving me over to God knows who.

“I wish I could be there when they kill you, to watch you die, but the knowledge of it will have to be enough,” she said, looking into my eyes. She glanced over my shoulder. “Okay, I’m ready. Make it look real.”

As I was being carried away, I watched Rayna get punched square in the face by a big, hulking figure. I was so out of it that I couldn’t even enjoy it properly.

My eyes suddenly felt droopy, sleep creeping up on me like a stalker in the night. I tried to stay awake, to fight the blackness quickly overtaking my vision, but it was no use.

I fell into a deep slumber and could only hope that when I woke up, I could get myself out of this bad situation.

ChapterTwenty-Four

Illayana De Luca

Ice cold water splashed into my face, jolting me awake. I coughed uncontrollably, my body shaking violently as I tried to catch my breath and get air into my lungs. My vision was blurred, my limbs riddled with pins and needles and achingly sore. Voices spun around the room, too many to count and it was giving me a fucking headache.

I tried to get my bearings. Hazy memories soared through my mind, like flashbacks in a movie. The mall. The arcade. Rayna. That sharp prick of a needle in my neck.

That fucking bitch drugged me.

Another bucketful of water hit my face and I gasped, coughing again.

“Time to wake up, princess,” a deep voice taunted, ripping me from my memories.

I wiped the water from my face, surprised to be able to move my arms at all. They didn’t restrain me.

Stupid.

My eyes travelled around the room, taking in my surroundings. It was a small space, four solid walls, no windows and one door, where a group of heavily tattooed men stood in front of the door.

This doesn’t look good.

I slowly got to my feet, my legs shaking, but I was working hard to hide it. I was already at a disadvantage. I couldn’t afford to show weakness. I looked down at my body. Alright, clothes still in place, boots on, nothing out of place. Reassuring.

A well built man stepped forward, dressed in a pair of black slacks and a white buttoned up shirt which he left undone, revealing a tanned, toned chest. He was definitely attractive, with baby blue eyes, sharp features and a neatly trimmed beard.

His stance screamed intimidation, his spine straight, shoulders back. But he wasn’t fooling me. It was a façade. Even though he was twice my size, I saw the fragility in his eyes, the exhaustion on his face. He wasn’t cut out to lead and it was clearly taking its toll on him. Oh, he was trying to hide it, trying to use his massive body to intimate me, but it wasn’t working. When you grew up as the daughter of the head of the Bratva, you knew whatrealintimidation was. And this man did not have it.

This had to be Nero.

The men at his back were a mixture of Mexican and Italian descent, in various shapes of build from short and stumpy to tall and muscly. How the fuck a man like Nero could gain control of the Los Zetas was beyond me. And not only gain control, but keep it.

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