Page 170 of Shattered Altar (Makarova Bratva Duet)

I want to storm out of here so I don’t have to look at either one of them, but I still have more questions. “I thought you were kidnapping women and murdering them. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I did tell you,” he reminds me. “I told you again and again. You just weren’t listening.”

I roll my eyes. “Forgive me for not taking you at your word. It’s a little hard to build a trusting relationship, seeing as how you abducted me from my home.”

“And you know why,” he counters. “Plus, you’ve been treated well. Taken care of.”

“Yeah, I feel really fucking loved,” I spit. “If this is your love, Aleks, I don’t want a single goddamn drop of it. That goes for you, too,” I add, jerking my chin towards Jennifer.

Aleks sighs. “I think it’s time for you to get to your room,” he says. “You’re looking a little pale.”

I shake my head. “I’m not a child. You can’t just send me away when it’s convenient for you.”

“No, moya zhena, you are not a child anymore. But neither are you Bratva. Jennifer and I have things we need to discuss. Business things.”

I glance between them and feel my stomach turn sour.

Jennifer is the epitome of everything I’m not. She’s more experienced, more calculating. She’s stronger and more confident. She knows how to manipulate men and women alike. She’s the kind of woman who doesn’t look out of place standing next to Aleks.

Not the way I do.

And God, that enrages me.

I don’t think about what I’m doing before I do it—I just close my hand around the first thing I touch. In this case, it’s an ornate vase sitting on the circular desk next to me.

I grab it and fling it forward. I don’t know if I’m trying to hit her or him or both of them. Whatever the case, I scream and hurl the vase forward.

I just want to hear something crash.

I want to see it break.

I want to see the beautiful, broken pieces on the floor and have the satisfaction of knowing that for once in my life, I’m the one who did the damage.

Aleks throws himself in front of Jennifer and turns a shoulder. The vase shatters against his broad back and erupts everywhere.

And then he rises amongst the carnage, tall and terrifying.

“Aleks, leave her alone!” Jennifer is yelling.

But he ignores her. He scoops me up and throws me over his shoulder, carrying me out of the room.

I want to yell for him to put me down. To let me go.

But at this point, I know better than to ask for things I know I won’t get.

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