Page 62 of Gilded Cage (Kovalyov Bratva 1)

“The one on the right is yours.” He points to indicate. “Now, if I untie you, are you going to promise to behave?”

I nod slowly.

He comes forward and reaches behind my head to remove the gag on my mouth first. My lips feel raw and I run my tongue over them.

Artem’s eyes flick down to follow the gesture. A sudden twist of tension seizes in my stomach. I don’t say a word, nor does he.

But his hand drifts slowly to wipe away a strand of spit from my chin. His thumb is hot and gentle against my skin.

It’s a weirdly tender gesture. Possessive, like he’s cleaning off something delicate and cherished.

It sends a chill down my spine.

But it’s over as soon as it started. Artem blinks and his touch disappears from my face.

He shakes his head subtly and moves to undo the restraints around my hands. When they’re gone, I rub my wrists with relief as the blood rushes back to my fingertips.

Then, without hesitation, I slap him hard across the face.

Oh,hellyes. That felt so fucking good.

I brace myself for his fury. For a retaliatory slap, a punch, a kick…

But he doesn’t move. His hands massages his jaw for a moment before he looks at me.

“Feel better now?” he asks calmly. “Did you get that out of your system?”

That only serves to infuriate me further.

“You may think you’re strong and powerful,” I spit at him. “You may think you’re the boss. But you’re not. You’re nothing but a boy pretending to be a man.”

I see his eyes flash with anger.

I’m not gonna stick around and see what happens next.

Instead, I brush past him and run into the room he said was mine.

I fumble with the lock, my hands trembling. Luckily, it clicks almost instantly. I don’t expect that to stop him—no doubt he has a key—but it’s just instinct. If nothing else, it makes me feel better.

I back away from the door, breath caught in my throat. He’ll be bursting through any second to storm in and teach me another lesson.

Maybe he just went to get something first—more restraints, a belt, a knife.

Hell, maybe he went to get a gun to finish what he started. Why should I trust that he’s not going to kill me?

But as the seconds tick past, the door stays shut.

No motion.

No Artem.

Just silence.

Finally, after what feels like a lifetime of standing still, I accept that he’s leaving me alone in here—for now.

So I turn and take in my surroundings.

A large floor-to-ceiling window takes up most of the front-facing wall. No balcony, but there’s a cushioned window seat bathed in sunlight.

---