Page 49 of Bratva Bride

The man growled in anger. Even though he couldn’t move his legs, he still attempted to get free. His arms struggled against the bindings as he continued to pull and pull, his face contorted in pain and anger.

Dimitri just stood there and watched the man try his hardest to escape, amusement plastered all over his face. After what felt like an eternity, the man slouched forward, his body clearly drained of energy.

“Now that that’s over with,” Dimitri moved and picked up a chair from the far corner and plopped it directly in front of the man, taking a seat. He leaned back casually, resting his ankle on his knee as he studied the man. He cocked his head to the side, his blue eyes staring the man down. “Do you know who I am?” He spoke softly, but clearly.

“No hablo ingles.” I don’t speak English.

Dimitri tsked, shaking his head. “Now Miguel, I know for a fact you’re lying.”

Miguel tensed, his body going rigid at the mention of his name.

Dimitri smiled. “Oh yes. I know who you are. I know where you live, who your family is, what you like to eat for breakfast. . . Everything. I even know your goddamn blood type,” Dimitri chuckled. “But, let me tell you something about myself, Miguel. You see, I absolutely despise liars. So, let’s try this again. Do you know who I am?” Dimitri repeated his question, this time speaking slower with more venom in his voice than I heard the first time.

Miguel’s eyes darted around the room one more time, desperately looking for an escape.

“Dimitri Volkov?” Miguel asked, his voice trembling just the slightest.

“Net.” No.Dimitri shook his head. “I asked if you know who I am, not what my name is.”

Miguel looked between Aleksandr and I with confusion. Granted, I could understand why. The two questions seemed one in the same to me, but I kept my mouth shut.

Dimitri slammed his foot back to the ground and leaned forward in his chair, clearly losing patience. Miguel flinched and shook his head.

“Aleksandr,” Dimitri barked.

“The Bratva Butcher,” Aleksandr replied automatically.

My eyes widened. The Bratva Butcher? That was him? I had first heard of The Bratva Butcher years ago, but I had no idea it was Dimitri. I assumed it was some mercenary or assassin, not the actual leader of the goddamn Bratva. The Bratva Butcher was rumoured to be the most cruel, ruthless motherfucker of all time. I heard he slaughtered an entire family line. Just wiped them off the face of the earth. Women, children…no one was safe from him.

“Da.”Yes.Dimitri’s eyes gleamed with pride at Aleksandr’s words. “And do you know why they call me The Bratva Butcher, Miguel?”

Miguel shook his head again, slowly. Like he was afraid of the answer.

A genuine smile crossed Dimitri’s face as he raised his hand into the air and clicked his fingers. I’ve only met the man three times and I could tell that he loved to pull that move.

A door off to the left that I hadn’t noticed before swung open, revealing Lukyan and Nikolai. And they weren’t alone.

“No,” Miguel whispered in shock as they dragged in four people from the other room.

Connected by a thick, metal chain were three adults - two women and a man - and a child, no older than ten. The women and child were crying hysterically, gripping onto each other for dear life. Their tear-stricken faces took in their new surroundings, and one of the women let out an ear-piercing shriek at the sight of Miguel tied to the chair.

“Miguel!” she cried, trying to run toward him, but the chain connecting them all together locked her in place. They all looked quite similar in appearance. Brown eyes, brown hair and the same olive skin. If I had to guess, I’d say they were all related, possibly siblings.

“You bastard! Let them go!” Miguel roared, desperately trying to get free. His wrists were bleeding from how hard he was pulling against his bindings.

“Do you know why they call me The Bratva Butcher?” Dimitri asked again, ignoring his outburst.

“Because you butcher people, you sick fuck!”

Dimitri laughed, his big body shaking in his chair. “Da,” he nodded his head. “I do, but there’s a little more to it than that. You see, I have a bit of an anger problem. My wife used to say I was like a raging bull. Ready to attack at the slightest provocation. When people threaten my family, all I see is red. All I feel is rage. All I want is vengeance. They call me The Bratva Butcher because I’ll not only butcher you, I’ll butcher your entire goddamn fucking family. I’ll rip them all to shreds for the sins of another and I’ll have no problem with it. Because like I said, when my family is threatened, all I see. . . is red.”

Dimitri stood gracefully, buttoning up his suit jacket. He moved and stood directly in front of the child. A little girl. She shivered and tried to squirm away as Dimitri raised his hand and started slowly stroking her hair.

“Don’t touch her!” Miguel growled. “Let her go! She has nothing to do with this!” Miguel pulled harder against his restraints, desperate to escape.

Dimitri’s head snapped to Miguel; his blue eyes lit with fire. “Oh, but she does,” Dimitri hissed, continuing to stroke her hair as he spoke to Miguel. “Did you seriously think you could come after my only daughter, my own flesh and blood, and there wouldn’t be any consequences?”

Dimitri scoffed and gripped the little girl by the back of her neck, making her cry out in pain.

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