Page 95 of Sins He Taught Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 3)

Breathless, Rogers wraps his hands around my throat, squeezing tight.

“I should fucking kill you,” he huffs, his face slashed and bleeding, like something out of a horror movie.

The edges of my vision become fuzzy, and my lungs scream for air. I thrash violently, weakly slapping at him and pulling at the fingers wrapped around my throat. It’s an automatic response, my body refusing to go this long without oxygen.

But it doesn’t do anything.

I’m dying.

I hallucinate the sound of voices outside, the sound of car doors slamming shut.

I hallucinate someone coming to save me.

Then I see the look of panic cross Rogers’s face.

And I realize: it’s not a hallucination. He lets go of my throat and I greedily suck in air, coughing violently. If it weren’t for his weight pinning me to the floor, I’d curl into a ball, tears streaming down my face.

“What the hell is that?” he asks, and for the first time, Rogers sounds afraid.

“It’s Matvei,” I say without even having to look, though truthfully I’m almost as shocked as him. “It’s Matvei. He came.”

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