Page 130 of Lies He Told Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 1)

“Osip,” I say as they grab my arms and legs to haul me out. I feel panic rising in my chest and I try to calm it. “What about Joy?”

“Too bad,” he says with a shrug.

“Osip, no! We had a deal. We had a fucking deal. Do not turn your back on me now, brother.”

“I said too fucking bad,brother,” he snarls acidly. “I’ll do what I like with her. Anything I fucking want. Do you hear me?”

I lunge for him, to stop him with my fists, since I have nothing else left. But his men have come pouring into the room. They seize me by both arms and drag me down into a maelstrom of pummeling fists and swinging kicks. It’s chaos, it’s pain. It’s too late.

My body burns with pain, but it means nothing.

I’ve failed her.

31

Joy

He comes in my room without a knock. He closes the door behind him.

“You don’t have to worry about them anymore,” Gavril tells me.

The chains around my bare arms are cold and tight. I can’t seem to peel my gaze off my husband, off his bloodstained sleeves, his hungry eyes.

“Who says it’s them I’m worried about?” I ask with a grin.

He steps forward, grabs my chain and tugs it so that I’m thrown against him. “Stop it. Don’t pretend you don’t want this.”

And so, I don’t. When his hand yanks my face to his and his lips hit mine, I let myself sink into it, all of it.

His overpowering musk fills my nostrils. All I can hear and feel is the twist of our bodies slamming together, his hands ripping all over me, pulling down my pants and panties.

Then, he stops short. I try to reach for him, feeling suddenly cold, but he steps away from my grasp.

I glare at him, all of me pulsing with want for more. “Thought you were here to free me.”

“Who said that?” He steps close again and strokes my cheek with the back of his hand. “I’m here to reclaim what’s mine.”

He undoes his pants, then yanks me by the chain back to him. Just like that, he’s inside me, my whole body flush with it.

Oh fuck, does it feel good.

His one hand is around my neck, the other on my chain, pulling me to him, shoving himself inside me, harder and deeper and faster, until I’m just about screaming with it, shaking with it, and just as I’m about to lose it—

Footsteps.

“Well, well, well,” another voice says.

My eyes open.

It’s Osip. I was …

“My brother’s slut, nodding off. Guess we’re making you too comfortable, is that it?”

He grips me by the chin, and I see it: the same assurance and danger that drew me to Gavril.

I see something else too, though—something that repulses me. Rather, a lack of something—some basic kindness, goodness, humanity. There’s a black hole where his soul should be.

I need to get out of here.

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