Page 154 of Immaculate Deception (Romanoff Bratva)

That fucking bitch is holding my child for a portrait. Passing him off as her own. All the while, his mother is—as far as Brigitte knows—being held hostage as a sex slave hundreds of miles away.

I know one thing right away: she’s going to die.

She ripped apart my family and made her own perverse monstrosity in its stead. That isn’t something you get to come back from. That isn’t something I forget or forgive.

Anger burns through me, hot and vivid.

But there’s also disbelief. Confusion.

What is going on here? How did Brigitte become entangled with The Butcher? The incestuous links between my brother’s enemy and my own are unbelievable.

I’m still staring up at the portrait, trying to puzzle out the web, when I feel a draft on the back of my neck.

My hackles rise, but before I can turn around, the muzzle of a gun presses against my spine.

“Don’t move or I’ll pull the trigger.”

I think about the logistics of calling for Gennady. How do I alert him that I need help without being shot?

“I wouldn’t yell if I were you,” the voice says evenly. “Lay your gun on the mantle and then turn around.”

I do what he says. When I turn around, it’s like I’m still looking at the face from the portrait.

Only this time, the Butcher is staring back.

His hair is cropped close to his head and dyed a vibrant blonde that contrasts with his dark eyebrows and facial hair. He’s tall, but thin, and his gun is aimed at my face now.

Pure lethal.

My eyes flicker over his shoulder to the open doorway. There, I see Gennady tied up in the hallway. He has a towel shoved in his mouth with duct tape over it and his hands and feet are zip-tied together. I notice blood dripping onto the hardwood beneath him.

“You two really thought you could come into my house unseen?” The Butcher snarls, tipping his head back, looking down his nose at me. “I have cameras everywhere. I knew you were here before you even unlocked the door.”

“Why didn’t you kill us then?”

The Butcher smiles. “I wanted to have a little fun with you first.”

54

Arya

Locked Beneath The Bratva Safehouse

My throat is raw from screaming.

“Dima! Let me out! Let me the fuck out of here!”

No one answers.

I charge forward with all my strength, bracing myself for the blow I know is coming. Still, when my shoulder slams against the solid door, pain lances through my body.

I cry out. I’ve been at this for at least half an hour, though it feels like longer.

For a minute after Dima left, I thought it was a joke. He apologized to me and then closed the door, and I thought it was some kind of prank or… hell, I’m not even sure. I certainly didn’t imagine he was actually locking me in his basement.

When he didn’t come back, I began to panic.

Why would he do this to me? I trusted him. I just told him I trusted himwhile we were fucking on the table. How could he come inside of me—and then lock me in the basement?

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