Page 125 of Lies He Told Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 1)

I lunge for a door, trying it, but it’s locked. Another one—locked, too.

Behind me, he’s getting closer. A door slams just feet away. More footsteps. More people are chasing me, all his minions. So many. Too many.

I’m not going to get out of here.

Keep running.

I round a corner, and the next door I try opens. I close it as quietly as I can behind me. Lock it. Inside, I race for the window. It doesn’t open.

Knock-knock-knock.

I freeze.

“Joy, that you?”

Please—please—please—don’t—just go away—I’m not in here—I kept going …

The knob turns.

Run. Hide. Do something!

I race for the closet, the only place left to go.

I’m in just as the front door swings open.

“I can smell you, you know,” he’s talking conversationally, as if this is our first date and he wants to put a good word in. “It’s good, really. Some flower or fruit. Shit, can’t think of the name but … It’d be nice if you cut this out. I should be busy out there slaughtering Bratva men—Vaknin men. This is holding me up. My Skullies need me.”

Slowly but surely, he’s making his way over to the closet. The floor creaks beneath his weight.

There’s no way I’m getting out of here.

“Really, you don’t want to see me mad. I’m told that when I’m mad, I … well. Let’s just say this is your last chance, Little Miss Joy.”

The footsteps stop at the door. My door. When he opens it, it’s all over.

He takes another step forward. The door handle turns.

I kick out with everything I have. It slams into him, knocking him backwards.

“Fuck!” he roars.

I almost make it. Honestly, I do. I can see the open hallway through the crack in the door like the light at the end of the tunnel.

But as I race out, he’s already grabbing me, and then injecting me with something.

“I told you!” he crows, as I see the other men coming in. My muscles don’t want to work anymore. I slump onto Osip, my lids drooping. The men entering the room are all bald, all with the same skull tattoos, the same leering stares.

“I’m going to have to teach you a lesson, my dear Joy,” he whispers in my ear right before everything goes black. “One you’ll never forget.”

30

Gavril

I’m barely out of the van when my phone rings. I pick up.

“Brother.”

I freeze. “Osip. What the hell—you?”

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