Page 13 of Marked (Russian Sinners 1)

“There is. Your father sent a bag for you,” Dimitry finally spoke up. “Now relax, you’re safe,” he commanded.

I looked around us, shattered glass everywhere, bullet shells and bullet holes. I was almost raped. I had been beaten. How could I ever relax in this kind of environment? Safe was a relative term at this moment, considering he wouldn’t tell me who he was. But despite my brain processing the surroundings and these two strangers, for the oddest reason I felt safe. Probably because my damn mind was completely gone.

We didn’t speak anymore. I watched in a daze out the window, empty fields passing in front of my eyes. Nothing was around us for miles. Every once in a while, we’d pass a car. Even if I escaped those men when they had held me captive, I had no chance of ever getting anywhere.

I sat lifelessly in the back seat, staring out the window. Now that adrenaline was slowly leaving me, pain and fear crept in. The last two weeks flashed through my mind and a shiver ran through me. I was scared like hell although I kept trying to be brave and keep my cool.

One thing I learned from my father and grandfather was never to lose my shit in the hardest moments. You lose your shit when you are alone, away from prying eyes.

I still wore the same clothes I was kidnapped in. They were dirty and bloody, and I was barefoot, having lost my heels somewhere along the way. If I knew our nightclub outing was going to end the way it did, I would have dressed accordingly. Hindsight was a bitch.

I wasn’t sure how long we’d been driving but my eyelids became heavier with each mile behind us. I worried about having a possible concussion and knew I should stay awake. But I had been functioning on very little sleep over the last two weeks and fatigue finally caught up to me as I drifted off to sleep amidst broken glass, bullet shells, and wind blowing like a hurricane through the car.

But I felt safe. I had finally lost my mind.

Chapter Five

Dimitry

Isensed the moment Anastasia dozed off, her knees pressed against her chest and her body curved into a ball.

Her skin was the color of ivory, and purple bruises showered her long legs. There was one on her cheek from the hit she took and marks on her neck. The deep black shadows under her eyes were probably the result of no sleep since she was kidnapped. I didn’t even want to think about what those bastards had done to her. Her arms were wrapped around her as if she was trying to protect herself from the world. Her clothes were skimpy, the same she wore from the club footage.

She probably wasn’t prepared to get kidnapped. In my line of profession, we tried to always be prepared. But then, her world was vastly different from mine, wasn’t it? It might have been two separate planets.

A shiver ran down her body every so often, and I took my jacked off to lay it over her. I was sure to keep my distance, not to scare her.

Fuck, she was beautiful!

The picture her father sent gave the hint of her beauty, but in person, even in her battered state, she took my breath away.

I am sick and tired of your barbaric ways, I repeated her words in my head, scoffing to myself.

She definitely portrayed the air of a beautiful, spoiled princess demanding stuff from her help… although she probably endured some fucked up shit over the last two weeks.

“Is she alright?” Nikolai asked in Russian, his voice low.

He hated seeing women hurt. He was always protective of them, but even more so since his sister’s passing. She was a few years older than him but he always ensured her safety. And when she had a child, he took care of them both.

For all his cold ass ways, he’d kill any man if they even laid a finger on a woman. We felt the same in that aspect. It was one of the reasons we worked so hard to get away from Boris’ organized crime family. Boris was of the opinion women were only good for fucking and beating. When he entered one of his rages, he didn’t care who he killed or tortured. I never understood why women craved the connection with the head of the rússkaya máfiya knowing his reputation. They had to know that they were writing their own death certificates with certainty knowing his reputation.

Vlad had tried to anticipate those and get the women out beforehand but either Vlad had been getting worse at it or Boris’ rages started coming more frequently and without any triggers. I believed Vlad got tired of cleaning up his mess and jumped on board with us, slipping information to me without me ever asking him for it. Considering what Nikolai, Sergei, and I saw from a young age, it was amazing that we turned out anywhere near sane.

“Yes,” I answered in Russian, in a hushed tone. “She’s bruised up pretty badly. We’ll need Sergei to get us a doctor and have her checked out.”

Nikolai nodded and dialed up Sergei.

Regardless of her spoiled, demanding ways, I wanted to kill all those men who had held her for the past two weeks. Give them a slow and painful death, make them beg for mercy. Although they’d never get it. The more I thought about it the angrier I got. I had to take several deep calming breaths to get past it. When I kicked in the door and saw that fucking animal on top of her, I almost lost my shit. The smiling, carefree woman from the video footage was gone.

She looked young… much younger than her twenty-five years her file called her out to be. I had no business even looking at her. The deal was to keep her safe until Boris Jovanov was executed, then she was safe and free to go back to her carefree life, demanding her luxury and saving people. And I would get what I wanted, all my businesses legalized and law enforcement off my back.

People like her did not mesh with people like me. It didn't matter that I was rich now, my life started out in rags and there was no way people like her could ever see past that, no matter how expensive those rags had become now. I grew up in the slums, seeing torture, blood, and men killed. I killed a man when I was eight. I wasn’t any better than the men that kidnapped her and held her against her will.

I studied her sleeping face as an image of her kneeling in front of me flashed in my mind. Her luscious, long auburn hair down her back, such a contrast against her ivory skin. I’d tie her hands, and do things to her that would make her beg me for more. And I would give it to her. I could give her everything she ever wanted and needed until I was the only thing she’d ever know.

Get yourself together, Dimitry. She was kidnapped, beaten, and who knows what else.Spoiled princesses are not your type.

I should not be fantasizing about her while she slept, battered a mere two feet from me.

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