Page 84 of Heritage of Blood

Kate

An ugly metallic grating sound punches through my haze and my eyes blink open. I take a nose full of air.Gross. It stinks. The musty odor becomes overpowering, a pungent mix of dampness, mold, and decay. The air is heavy, and it’s difficult to breathe. My lungs scream for a mouthful of air, but as I try to suck in I’m met with sour-tasting fabric that makes bile rise in my throat.

It’s interesting what the body will do unconsciously. While I know I’m tied at my hands and my feet, my body still tugs on each tie, and panic bubbles to the surface. I snap my head up and look around. Concrete walls encapsulate me again, a metal door is clanking open, and—Luka. Tears pool in my eyes when I see him.

The bindings on his feet are cinched tight and he is semi-hunched over, his broad shoulders shoved awkwardly back as his hands are tied behind the chair. Blue eyes stare back at me when I finally take in his face, stern and concerned. The one man that I had come to foolishly think as invincible is sitting across from me and I have no idea who has done this to us.

My chest heaves as I wonder what they are going to do to us. Luka may have grown up training for interrogations and torture, but the worst pain I’ve experienced has been emotional, not physical. His gaze studies me as if he’s trying to convey something to me, but I don’t know what. I steel my spine as best I can in my position. I won’t make Luka worry about me.

The door finally lurches forward, and the silhouette of a man stands there. I blink and squint toward him taking a couple of steps into the room. My eyes go wide.

Antonio Buscetta.

“Well, well … who do we have here?” His voice is laced with poison, and I want to rip his voice box out. Out of the corner of my eye, Luka’s gaze snaps toward his direction and a growl emits from low in Luka’s chest. His eyes burning with rage, his mouth curling in disgust, fighting the fabric gag.

“You know, when my men said they saw you leave Senator Hope’s lovely little party without much security, I could hardly believe it. Luka Morozov taking a car without the infamous Ivan. Unheard of.”

The sarcasm isn’t hard to pick out in Antonio’s words. He shuffles forward, glaring down at Luka, and Luka meets him, raising his chin. “The great Bratva Pakhan caught with his pants down.” The chuckle that rolls off Antonio is vile, and I swallow the nausea down.

Luka muffles something through his gag, and Antonio puts up a finger in his face. “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he clicks his tongue, slowly backing away from Luka’s chair.

Antonio steps around my chair, Luka’s muffled yelling egging him on. A hard tug on my hair rips my head back so I’m forced to look at him, the gray ceiling his backdrop. I want to rip that smug smirk right off his face.

“Ah Kate, we meet again. How is your mother doing, by the way? I do miss her lovely body.”

I’m going to retch. Tears drip down my face and Antonio dips a finger to my cheek, catching a few. He brings them to his mouth and licks off his finger. “Mmm,” he groans, “I wonder if the daughter takes after the mother.” My stomach roils, repulsed at the idea of him touching me, the sickening nausea causing a shudder through me. “Yes … I think you’d enjoy that, Kate.”

He finally releases my hair, and my strained neck moves to put eyes back on Luka. Antonio moves to block my view, crouching down to stare at my face. I should spit in it.

“My men thought I should’ve killed you that night in the elevator, but letting a fine specimen as you rot in the ground—” His eyes flare with desire. Licking his lips, he trails a finger over my thigh. “I decided to watch you. We were prepared to take you anytime for the right buyer, but then I met your mom, and I knew it would be too easy to play with you.”

Flashes of the black town cars and suited men following me in the grocery store riddle my mind with realization.

He laughs, palm adjusting himself in his pants. This man is psychotic. “Mmm, and when Luka began tailing you … I knew then you’d caught his attention, enough for me to use you—”

Luka’s muffled yells break him off. He is panting, violently trying to release himself.

“Oh, come now, Luka. Do you think I’d put you in a chair you could get out of?” The smile that widens on Antonio’s face is wrong, misplaced. “I know all about the great Luka Morozov. The young heir trying to get out of his fate all his life, but only to become one of the youngest pakhans in Bratva history.” My eyes flick to Luka which interests Antonio, “Ah—didn’t know that, did you, Kate? This man here is the youngest, most dangerous pakhan. Even his cold-hearted father couldn’t compare.”

I accepted the truth about Luka a while ago. I don’t judge Luka for the life he was born into. The connection I have with Luka isn’t based on his position in the Bratva. It is him. I trust Luka, and he trusts me. Our lives were entwined thanks to Antonio that night many months ago.

A headache blooms behind the back of my head and my tongue is sticking to the roof of my mouth—I’m probably dehydrated. I don’t engage Antonio; I keep my focus on Luka, who is seething. More muffled noises come from Luka, and Antonio rolls his eyes. Marching over to him, Antonio rips the gag from his mouth.

Taking a deep gasp for air, Luka booms, “Let Kate go. This is between you and me.” The command in Luka’s voice, which typically causes me to shiver with desire, finds the fear.

“You see, Luka, our families have been rivals for generations. Each one taking lives from the other, competing for alliances, weapons, and territory—it goes on and on. My father is lazy. He is content to let the Bratva exist—some ‘honor among thieves’ logic.”

Antonio spits his words, hissing in anger. “I want the Bratva gone. I will claim your supply warehouses, your influence in the city, your businesses, and your men. And … there is only one thing I think will make you give it over.”

No.

This sickening man. Hatred consumes my fear, and oh what sweet relief that is because suddenly I’m not afraid. I’m pissed. Antonio slides back in my direction, Luka’s eyes tracking every step, every sway. I’d give anything to know what is going through Luka’s thoughts right now.

Luka doesn’t even wince. Focus hardens his face, and he leans back in his seat, unfazed.

“And what would that be, Antonio?”

“You know I can’t kill you, Luka. There would be an uproar among the Bratva. They’d burn down the city before allowing me and mine to come in and take over. I realized this after we tried months ago. But—” He pauses on my left side, I can barely make out his face in my peripheral. He cracks both sets of knuckles, before casually caressing my collarbone. My pulse continues its rapid pounding, and a tremble shakes my body. “If you announced our alliance, presenting me as the future of the Bratva, they will listen. You know this.”

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