Page 58 of Gilded Cage (Kovalyov Bratva 1)

I sigh loudly and hoist her up over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

She screams at the undignified position and starts slamming her delicate little fists against my back.

She’s throwing obscenities and insults my way, but all of it just makes me smile.

So much for soft and timid, too. She’s a hellcat, deep down. Much feistier than I’ve given her credit for.

I give her ass a hard smack and she curses me out all over again.

“Act like a fucking brat,” I tell her calmly, “and I’ll treat you like one.”

All she does is scream in response.

16

Esme

The bastard.

The asshole.

The motherfucking murderer.

I claw at his back but I may as well be banging against a brick wall for all the good it’s doing.

Artem completely ignores me as he strides across the tarmac towards a huge, sleek vehicle.

The wind bites at my exposed legs and thighs. Whatever poison his goons stuck me with is still clouding my thoughts pretty badly.

Though, not so badly that I’m not pissed as hell.

I may not be capable of fully processing everything that’s going on around me in the last few hours. But I’m sure as hell furious that he is handling me like a ragdoll.

“Let me go, asshole!” I scream.

Artem’s answer is to open the car door and hurl me inside like useless cargo.

I hit the seat with anoof, but the landing is softer than I expect, thanks to the plush leather seats.

I open my mouth to yell some more curses at him, but before I can get my bearings, he flings a coat that hits me square in the face.

Then he slams the door on me before I find my voice again.

The coat is huge and I know immediately it’s his. It smells of him—that heady, woody scent that I used to dream about at night these last four months before falling asleep.

I never knew those sleeping dreams would turn into a waking nightmare.

I go to open the door and make a run for it—where I’d run, I have no fucking clue, but I’m sure as fuck not gonna sit here like a good little girl and let him cart me off to God knows where.

But the handle is locked.

I yank at it with two hands. It rattles but refuses to budge.

I scream.

All it does is bounce around the empty vehicle and make my ears hurt.

Fine. New plan.

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