Page 23 of Broken Sins (Volkov Bratva 3)

Now, though, the air is cold, and Frat Stars #1 through #4 are staring at me with an unfamiliar hunger in their eyes.

“Are you a virgin?” blurts #3.

“That’s not … that’s none of your business,” I say weakly.

“How do you like to fuck?” asks #2.

#4 chimes in, “I bet she likes it facedown. Pull her hair, slap her ass ’til it’s black-and-blue.”

“Naw,” interrupts #1, “she looks more like the type that you throat-fuck until she can’t handle any more.”

I try to protest. “Leave me alone!” But without Kyle and Anastasia here to defend me, I’m exposed. Vulnerable. The tone of their voices is biting.

Are they moving closer, or am I just imagining things? It feels like they’re scooting towards me, boxing me in …

Four men. Four big, strong, sexually amped-up men, with drugs and alcohol coursing through their system at maximum levels. My only potential savior is currently having drunk, raunchy sex in the next room. The thought of these guys pinning me down is overwhelming. That and the alcohol and the hookah—it’s all too much.

I’m dizzy. The room is spinning. Everything is going wrong at once.

I start to scream, “Anasta—!” But before I can finish getting the words out, #1’s hand clamps over my mouth and then #2 and #3 are throwing me backwards onto one of the hotel beds and #4 is tugging at the zipper of my leather pants and the music is so loud that I can’t think and my head is spinning …

Then someone pounds on the door.

I’m saved. I remember suddenly—I haven’t texted Anton and Matvei back in a while. They’re coming up here to rescue me. I can’t wait to see them, those stupid, beautiful bald men with their stupid, beautiful, unblinking eyes. I might actually cry when they walk in here and whoop the asses of these would-be-rapist frat guys.

My joy lasts all of three seconds before I hear a booming voice at the door.

“Police! Open up!”

6

Milaya

Everybody is frozen.

The person at the door repeats himself louder. “Police! Open the door now!”

I’m lying on the bed. Frat Star #4 is still between my legs, his hips pressing close to mine. I can feel his body heat on my thighs. #1 has let his nasty, sweaty hand fall from my mouth, thank the fucking Lord, although I can still smell his stench lingering where he touched me.

Swimming in my vision, I see all of them looking back and forth between each other. They don’t look threatening anymore. They look like scared little kids.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” mutters one of them. “What are we going to do?”

“If we get busted with this shit …”

Everybody’s eyes sweep to the coffee table, where neat little rows of cocaine are still arranged across the lacquered wood like a freshly plowed field. There’s enough drugs there to put someone away for an ugly stint in prison. These frat boys wouldn’t last a day locked up. I wouldn’t mind seeing them end up on the receiving end of the treatment they were about to give me, though.

I don’t hear the sounds of Kyle and Anastasia having sex next door anymore. Did they hear the police and hunker down, or did they go somewhere else …

The pounding at the door strikes up again. “This is the police! I’m not going to ask again! Open the door or we’ll break it down!”

The boys are bickering between themselves. “I can’t get in trouble again, man. My parents will fucking disown me. I’d be dead …” They’ve forgotten about me, but I haven’t forgotten what they were just about to do. They were trying to rape me. Only this unexpected intervention has saved me from an abrupt and sickening end to my night.

Out of nowhere, my dad’s voice plays in my head.I can handle anything you need …

What I need is to get the fuck out of here.

And just like that, I get an idea.

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