Page 105 of Bratva Bride

My stomach dropped. What would I find when I clicked it?

“What is it? You’ve got a real murdery look on your face right now,” Lukyan said, and I glared. He inched away from me. “Yeah, that look.”

“Take the wheel.” I climbed over the centre console, moving to the back seat.

“Aye, what the fuck!” Panic flashed across Lukyan’s face and he jumped to grab the steering wheel before we veered off the road.

“Move,” I barked, shoving Vin over so he squished up against the window.

“Ow, Turo! You fucking prick.”

“Shut up before I shut you up,” I snapped, opening the message.

“Your road safety awareness is a bloody joke,” Lukyan squawked, eyes flicking to me in the rear-view mirror before returning to the road.

I ignored him and focused on my phone. “Someone sent me a link.”

“To what?” Vin asked, climbing into the passenger seat.

Lukyan tapped on the breaks and Vin flew forward, smashing into the dashboard. Vin shrieked and groaned in pain.

“Whoops,” Lukyan chuckled.

“Will you stop fucking around? This is not a fucking game, Lukyan! Your goddamn sister is being held captive and you’re playing around like there’s nothing fucking wrong. What the fuck is the matter with you?”

Hurt flashed in his eyes and he stared at the road, jaw clenched. “People cope in different ways, Arturo. I’m choosing not to dwell on something I can’t change and instead to try and relax before I walk into a situation that has the potential to shatter my heart. I love my sister. Out of all my siblings, she’s the one I’m closest to and if we get there too late…if she’s dead…” he choked, his words dying off.

I blinked, momentarily taken aback. I definitely wasn’t expecting something so….deep, so meaningful, to come out of his mouth. It was like a whole other side to him.

My father gave me a deathly glare. “Arturo.” That one word held a magnitude of reprimand. “That was uncalled for. I understand how you’re feeling, but you can’t lash out at everyone around you.”

He was using his ‘Dad’ voice. I sighed and looked up from my phone. “Sorry, Lukyan.” I wasn’t really, but I didn’t want to continue this conversation.

I clicked on the link, and it took me to a website that was live streaming a video.

Illayana stood in the centre of the room, her hair wet like she’d been dunked in a bucketful of water and clothes covered in dirt. I stiffened at the sight of her, my blood running cold.

The grip on my phone tightened and a dark growl slipped from my lips as a man backhanded her across the face.

Nero.

He walked towards the camera and took it, pointing it towards Illayana as he spoke, his words echoing in the car.

He talked of the benefits of live streaming, of how excited he was to know that I would be watching as he defiled my wife, as his men took what wasn’t theirs to have.

My body grew tight, my anger skyrocketing as I was forced to sit there and listen to that sadistic asshole talk about how his men planned to have her, what they were going to do to her.

Lukyan cursed and beat his fists against the steering wheel. He slammed his foot down on the accelerator and we sped forward, overtaking the car we were following with his father and brothers and taking the lead.

His phone rang and he answered in Russian, his words harsh as he explained to whoever was on the other line what was going on.

I didn’t know how far away we were but I prayed we were fucking close. I had the stomach to deal with a lot of things.

I’ve gutted men from throat to pelvis. I’ve ripped organs from their bodies and then eaten a turkey sandwich while I stood in a pool of their blood, but this? Watching Illayana being hurt? Brutalised?ThatI couldn’t stomach.

The camera panned out to the men in the room, a dozen at least, and I tried to commit every one of them to memory. I would hunt them all down and inflict twice the amount of pain and suffering they caused Illayana.

I squinted at the screen.

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