Page 33 of Sins He Taught Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 3)

Victoria

I finally dare to breathe.

The room that was just echoing with threats of murder is now silent. I glance at the sofa that the boy was sleeping on. I can still see the indent his warm little body left behind.

I know I shouldn’t—I’ve got enough problems of my own, to say the least—but I can’t help wondering who he is.

Is he Matvei’s child? Or is he a captive—like me?

I’m not sure which option is worse.

On one hand, if he’s the child of the man standing before me—that would make him, literally, the spawn of the freaking devil. I can’t even imagine what kind of twisted shit goes on in the mind of a guy who does the kinds of things Matvei Morozov has been rumored to do for years—things like murder, extortion, blackmail, kidnapping.

Morozov has had his finger in every dirty pie getting baked in this corner of the country for as long as I can remember. And if he’s now got a little boy to imprint all that nastiness onto… well, may God have mercy on his soul. I shudder to think about what kind of man that sleeping little angel might one day become.

But if the child isn’t Matvei’s… then who does he belong to?

That thought sends a disturbing chill down my spine. I immediately picture a mother screaming for her baby back, a helpless father beating on Matvei’s door—or, more likely, taking a brutal beating from Matvei’s hired thugs.

I don’t have any earthly idea why Matvei would want to snatch up a young boy from his family, but with the kind of stories that surround him, I can’t possibly imagine that it’s for a good cause. He isn’t exactly a Good Samaritan. The whole scene that just played out with my father is testament to that.

The room is quiet now, filled only with the sounds of Matvei’s impatiently tapping foot and my own rattled breathing. My father’s struggling shouts have long since settled into the walls.

But something is lingering in the air even after I hear a car firing up in the driveway, no doubt on its way to deposit my dad somewhere where he can do little harm to anyone. A bar would be the best bet to shut him up for a while, not that I’ll be making that suggestion.

The feeling in the air is like steel wires yanking at every inch of my exposed skin. And every single one of those wires is pulling me in the same direction: towards Matvei.

I should be disgusted by him. Anyone that makes such horrific and convincing threats should send me running, should make me sick to my stomach.

And he does do that. I felt nauseous just being around him. The nausea of fear is almost overwhelming—for myself, for my dad, for the little boy on the couch.

But I felt something else, too.

When Matvei pinned me against the wall and yanked down on the roots of my hair. When his scent—manly, powerful, overwhelming—filled my nostrils and his face filled my vision …

It wasn’t just fear. It was something far more dangerous.

Attraction.

Maybe it was the sheen of darkness in his eye that made me stop struggling and listen to what he had to say. Watching those full lips and his perfectly chiseled jawline move as he talked. The intelligence dancing in his face, the power in his high cheekbones…

All of it screamed, Run.

He’s a dangerous person, a shark in open water, but I can’t deny the way the breath left my lungs when I looked at him. He’s a beautiful psychopath.

That’s all he is,I tell myself again and again. He looks nice, but only to make up for the fact that he’s a killer. Someone who relishes in this dark, depraved world in which he’s set himself up as the king.

Every single one of his men fell over themselves to listen to his words. The way he spoke, without a modicum of insecurity, no chinks in his armor—just pure, unfiltered confidence. It was unsettling to see someone so sure of himself.

I wonder if he’s even capable of emotion. Maybe he really is a true sociopath—not capable of feeling anything at all. That’s why he’s able to say the things he says without thinking twice about how awful they are.

There isn’t much time to keep wondering, however, because soon he shifts from his position and walks towards me.

I freeze, close my eyes, try to breathe.

Until—wait, no, he’s walking past me. I feel his suit jacket brush lightly against my arm as he breezes by me and heads towards the door without looking back. The cologne he’s wearing fills my nostrils in his wake. It’s woodsy, dark, with a layer underneath it that I can’t quite put my finger on. Maybe it’s just the scent of Matvei himself.

I turn to see him standing in the doorway, waiting for me. He beckons me over with just the slightest jerk of his head.

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